(Bonus A/N)
1. If you are just starting to read this fanfic, please note that I plan to reread the entire fanfic and fix as many things as I can find from chapters 1 to the end of the ark that has begun in chapter 43 and ended in chapter 48. You will know if a chapter is up to date via the chapter number and its name being in the fic itself.

2. If you are going to ask me questions in the reviews as a guest, I will ignore them. If it is an anonymous review asking questions, I will ignore them. Sorry but I will not reply to something I cannot directly respond to. If you actually have questions just pm me or for Gwyn's sake, put your review down in a way so that I can reply to you.

CHAPTER 1: AT WORLD'S END

There once was an age of cycles, an age of fire and disparity, an age of gods. It was a seemingly never ending time of pain and suffering. However, all fated things have an end, no matter how long it may be. Many expected or predicted that such an end would have been loud and violent, and many tried to uncover what would come next, but they were all wrong.

Soon, the age of Fire would end; Taking its last breath while the world laid desolate, covered in ash, ruins, and mountains as a dying sun stood over it from dusted clouds.
(-)

A lone Pygmy lord dragged himself across the ashen wasteland; the dying sun watching him from afar as he left a trail of his own blood. His limbs were frail and weak, and only in his left hand could he find strength. His head, barely holding on by a thread of flesh, dangled from his neck. His once elegant robes that adorned him were now covered in filth, blood, and ash. His once beautiful silver crown was now a useless thing that rested upon his white mane.

Either through sheer will power or by an unknown force, the pygmy lord still lived and crawled to his last hope of salvation. He crawled to what was left of Fillionore's resting place. The Pygmy croaked out a weak feeble voice, "Ohh, Filianore, help me, please... The Red Hood is come to eat us. To eat our dark souls..."

He kept crawling for what felt like an eternity. With every agonizing push, he slowly got closer to his destination. With every gasp and wheeze of air from his lungs, the more he felt his life leave him.

But then, right before he reached Filianore, whatever strength within the dying lord began to rush out of him. The pygmy was so close, but he could not go any further. He tried to reach out before his body failed him, but he did not even have the strength to do so as he called out one last pathetic call for help, "Filianore, help me, please..."

The pygmy finally succumbed to his wounds and went limp, air leaving him. Then, what remained of his tiny soul drifted out of him and into a nearby observer, the Ashen One.

The Ashen One did nothing as they witnessed this; for nothing could have been done to change the Pygmy's fate. They looked towards the trail of blood that came from the Pygmy, which led to a set of ruins nearby, and followed it. They needed to see what had taken place to cause this.

The trail came to an end at what appeared to be once a glorious throne room of a counsel. Though many of the thrones were nothing but rubble, a few remained somewhat intact. Corpses of other pygmy lords were strung about the ruins; each possessing similar injuries. Then, the Ashen one could hear something like deep breathing, and something sinking its teeth and eating.

The Ashen one looked towards the sound and saw another pygmy lord atop a small ashen hill. As the Ashen one approached, the pygmy died, but that mattered not. As the Ashen one reached the top of the hill, they saw someone that they thought they would never see again.

(-)

Gael had slain the last pigmy lord, the bones in his old, bloated body groaning as he bent down to consume their dark soul. At long last he had claimed the last fragment. Now, finally, the dark soul of man would be complete. For the first in countless eons, he would provide his lady with what she needed. Soon there would be a never-ending world unaffected by the cycles.

An ocean of voices roared in his head, each one a soul he consumed, each one a life he took,"̾S̾̾O̾ ̾C̾̾L̾̾O̾̾S̾̾E̾ ̾T̾̾O̾ ̾B̾̾E̾̾I̾̾N̾̾G̾ ̾W̾̾H̾̾O̾̾L̾̾E̾ A̾̾G̾A̾̾I̾̾N̾!"

The voices were his only guide now, his only companion for the many cycles of his lone crusade. Though many of his memories were fading and foggy, one memory was clear; the memory of why he was doing this, for his lady and the world she would make. He wished he had returned to her long ago, but the pygmies... their useless bodies had no blood to paint.

What else was he to do? He needed every scrap for his lady, every fragment so that he may bleed. That was all that mattered, the world could die for all he cared. Both he and the voices agreed. He had to do this...No, he needed to do this.

Gael began to eat through the pigmy's flesh, tearing his way through their neck and into their dark soul with his bare teeth. He eventually reached it and could feel it enter him as he consumed it. The voices were pleased as well as they both felt closer to being whole.

And yet Gael still felt...felt...Unfulfilled!? But, why!? Was there still a piece left? He was sure he rid this world of those greedy fools who kept their dark souls to themselves! He then could sense a familiar presence nearby, the voices confirming what he was thinking, "A̾̾N̾̾O̾̾T̾̾H̾̾E̾̾R̾ ̾F̾̾R̾A̾̾G̾̾M̾̾E̾̾N̾̾T̾ ̾D̾̾R̾A̾̾W̾̾S̾ ̾N̾̾E̾A̾̾R̾! ̾T̾̾H̾̾I̾̾S̾ ̾M̾̾U̾̾S̾̾T̾ ̾B̾̾E̾ ̾T̾̾H̾̾E̾ ̾L̾A̾̾S̾̾T̾ ̾O̾̾N̾̾E̾"

Gael turned his head sharply to the left, seeing a knight that seemed so...familiar to him. Could it be? Could someone he might have known still be around? Yes… he recognized them. The Ashen One. He could hear the voices screaming at him now, agitated at his slight hesitation to consume the knight, "̾W̾̾H̾̾Y̾ ̾M̾̾U̾̾S̾̾T̾ ̾Y̾̾O̾̾U̾ ̾W̾A̾̾I̾̾T̾!? ̾T̾A̾̾K̾̾E̾ ̾I̾̾T̾ ̾N̾̾O̾̾W̾! ̾K̾̾I̾̾L̾̾L̾ ̾T̾̾H̾̾E̾̾M̾!"

Gael rose from his hunched position and faced the knight, "What, still here?" Gael reached out with his hand, "Hand it over. that thing, your dark soul." Commanded Gael to the knight, wishing no harm to his compatriot but he received no answer, only cold dead silence. They had to listen to reason, Gael didn't wish to kill them. Gael pleaded with them, "For my lady's painting."

Silence and an empty glare were all Gael got from the knight, his hand lowered and clenched into a fist. They wouldn't listen, they were foolish, they did not care for his lady, they did not care for a world beyond the flame's influence! They were not his ally! They were selfish! If they wouldn't give what he needed for his lady, "̾J̾̾U̾̾S̾̾T̾ ̾E̾̾N̾̾D̾ ̾T̾̾H̾̾E̾̾M̾ ̾N̾̾O̾̾W̾! ̾K̾̾I̾̾L̾̾L̾ ̾T̾̾H̾̾E̾̾M̾!" He would then take it from them by force.

Gael slammed his fist down and charged at the knight with a roar; throwing the pygmy corpse he had consumed in the process. Like a wild beast, Gael came towards the knight on all fours. Before the knight could swing his blade upon Gael, Gael jumped high above the knight and struck downward, a small bit of humanity seeping out of his blade as he did so. The knight took the blow head-on and ignored whatever pain there was and traded a blow of his own with Gael. Gael felt the blade pierce through his armor and into his flesh, but he hardly noticed it. After all, he was undead, and such sensations were nullified greatly.

Gael leapt back and once again jumped into the air and swung downward upon the knight, but this time the Knight dodged the attack and struck Gael a few times with his blade. Once again Gael lept back but this time waited for the knight to come to him. When the knight believed that there was an opening, Gael stood straight up and swung a flurry of attacks from his blade, landing nearly every blow and almost killing the knight.

Before Gael could make the finishing blow, the knight recovered and dodged the last swing of Gael's blade. The Knight then retreated and drank from his Estus flask, their injuries healed almost instantly from it.

This battle of attrition continued, Gael landing a few blows but never able to finish the Ashen One off before they drank the Estus flask, and the knight continuing landing blow after blow, slowly but surely wearing Gael down.

Gael raised his broken blade, but the knight acted faster than Gael, striking his face with their blade and stunning him. Gael reeled back before his legs gave way, forcing him to fall down his knees and hunched over onto the ground. He looked down on his old blade, the only thing that has been with him since the first cycle.

Strange how he did so much with a simple executioner sword. His thoughts were interrupted as he saw...blood drip from his forehead onto the blade.

Gael made a silent gasp as he saw this, "Ahh, is this the blood?" The world went silent as he said this. The sun disappeared, snuffed out forever as it left behind a dark void, "The blood of the dark soul?"

Humanity seeped out of Gael as he rose, implanting his blade into the ashen ground and leaning upon it to stand up. He looked upon his blade as his memories flooded back to him clearer than ever. Not only did he remember his quest and why he was doing it, but now he could remember that he would not be the one to give his lady the blood.

Gael had taken this quest with the knowledge he would fall. He had taken this quest with the hope of their being one to slay knight would be the one, for he had the soul of a champion and could give it to her unaffected by the dark.

If the knight was of ash, then he had no doubt that they would slay him and send the pigment to his lady. Gael wanted to laugh, for countless ages he wandered and fought for wars he knew nothing about, but now he has outlived his old masters and won his first and only war of his choosing. Now he no longer had any purpose, no reason to exist anymore. So, he let himself go almost fully hollow and allowed the mass of humanity to take over.

The Voices removed Gael's blade from the desert and had him stand straight up. They held his blade with both of his hands, humanity still seeping out of him. Gael walked towards the knight slowly with more purpose, pulling out his repeating crossbow and letting loose a volley at the knight, but the Knight dodged to the side, avoiding the arrows. While still being a distance away, Gael casted the white corona miracle. Five discs of golden light shot forth from his hand and toward the knight. The Knight rolled forward and dodged the discs, but was caught off guard when they came back and injured them.

Not wanting to let the Knight heal, Gael flew into the air, using his cape like a pair of wings, and lunged at the knight. The knight managed to dodge the initial attack but not the cape as it reached out like a hand and clawed at him. The knight still manages to survive and retreat to heal. The Voices wouldn't let them. But Gael briefly regained sanity to fight for control.

Gael froze in place, hunching over as he gargled and grunted in an attempt to hold back the Dark to help his ally. But the Dark wouldn't be denied and flew out and charged directly at their target, but the Knight dodged and swung at Gael; striking Gael with enough force to cause him to fall to his knees.

The Knight used this to his advantage, riposting Gael. Gael could actually slightly feel the pain as the blade went into his gut. The Knight removed his blade and got ready to unleash his own flurry of blows, but Gael let out his own combination of attacks first.

The battle raged on with both becoming more and more worn out.

Near the end, the Knight's Estus was out, and Gael was on the edge of dying. In one final clash to decide the victor, the two charged at each other. Gael flew above the knight, skulls of humanity coming out of his cape and attacking the knight. The Knight dodged the skulls, but where the skulls landed, lightning struck. The Voices then swung Gael's blade horizontally, hoping to finish the Knight at last, But the Knight dodged the attack as well and gave the killing blow.

Gael fell down on his knees once more, his sanity returning to him for a brief moment. He reached out with the last of his strength, "My...lady..." Gael tried to say, but no such words came out as he collapsed onto the ground.

As Gael could feel death's cold embrace, and everything went dark for him, he had only one wish...

And that was to see his lady one...last...time...

(-)

Within the desert region of Lahara, a small caravan was making a shortcut through the desert to The Order city of Lescatie.

Gren the caravan master rode in the lead, a heap of sweat dripping down his forehead. He was beginning to regret his decision to go this way. Forget the extra pay they would get for arriving early from the guild, he was dying here. He was even more agitated when the lady who gave him the map said that it would be a short trip with nothing to worry about. Yeah, like that was true.

"Boss, uhh the people have been wondering... uhh when are we gonna get to some form of shelter?" Spoke one of his guards as they rode up next to him.

Gren replied to the guard, clear agitation in his voice, "We are about halfway there, so keep your mouth shut."

"But sir, we are running low on water. And to be honest sir, this armor is getting uncomfortably hot."

Gren gritted his teeth, that was their fault. He never told them they had to keep it on. Besides, he didn't like it as much as they did. Now he had to think of something or else his people would bail on him the moment they got the chance. That was a big no since he would be losing profit from that. So, he thought of a quick lie to tell the guard, "We should be getting to a source of water and shade soon, probably in a few good miles."

"Are you certain boss?"

"Yes, I am, now shut it!"

A few more hours passed, Gren felt exhausted, and he was not the only one as when he looked back, a good few of the people looked absolutely miserable. Gren prayed to all the gods he could think of for a situation out of this, preferably involving someplace of rest. His prayers seemed to be answered, for when he looked forward again, he could see in the short distance some strange ruins with a lake near it.

But it was too good to be true. Gren was snapped out of his excitement from the sound of sharp gasps of pain. He turned back to his caravan to see in horror, a wave of girtablilu attacking his people from out of nowhere, injecting them with their venom and taking them away. That was not all though, the few who had not yet been claimed by the girtablilu were flanked by ghouls who rose out of the sand and them dragged their prey down, the ghouls eagerly sucking on them like animals.

"No...not like this, I won't go out like this!" Screamed Gren as he began to ride away as fast as he possibly could on his horse, but he was not fast enough as a ghoul managed to catch up in time and jumped onto the horse.

Gren yelled in desperation, "GET OFF!" But the ghoul would not let go, clawing at him in an attempt to remove his clothes to have her way with him. Eventually, Gren managed to push her off his horse, but not before the ghoul dragged him with her.

They both crashed down onto the sand, the horse not stopping as it continued to ride away. The ghoul jumped onto Gren before he could get up, pinning him down. Gren wouldn't let this be the end of him! With all his might he pushed the ghoul off him. The ghoul fell back but quickly got up. Despite how fast the ghoul got up, Gren was still able to get his blade out.

She didn't even pay any attention to the blade Gren wielded, mindlessly charging at him. Gren's blade went straight through her gut as he thrusted his blade forward, blood splashing onto his expensive clothing.

The ghoul would not stop though, still clawing at Gren to claim him as hers. He managed to push her down, removing his bloody blade from her gut. This time he was the one pinning her and wouldn't let her turn the tables this time.

"JUST DIE ALREADY!" Screamed Gren as he repeatedly stabbed the ghoul again and again in a mindless rage. Eventually, there was nothing left but a pile of flesh and a very blunt blade. He would have soon continued to try and run, at least try to get to the ruins, but something caught his eye.

A small white flame came out of the ghoul's corpse. It hovered above the body for a moment or two before going into the ground.

"What in the name of the chief god was that!?" Gren's question was soon answered as the ground started shaking and the sand where the small flame had gone began to rise.

From the sand, he rose. A rotted creature that looked like a man but was far taller than him. A creature whose long cape had skulls seemingly formed within it, and a rusty set of armor with bandages and bits of flesh between its gaps. A creature whose face could not be seen, save for a long white beard coming out of a red hood.

The Red Hood had returned.