1:Rekindled Resolve


The Sun.

Unyielding was its light upon the world. Creatures of light awakening from their slumber the moment it crests the horizon, shadows of the dark recoiling from its watchful gaze. It shines even through the clouds that attempt to obscure it. Even better, his connection to Gwyn allowed him to gaze at it without its brilliant light blinding him.

It really was a beautiful thing to gaze at. It was so grossly incandescent. Solaire grinned as the Sun reminded him of his goal for coming here to Lordran. To find his very own Sun. The Sunlight Warriors have a saying;

'When a man becomes sure in his goals, in his meaning, in his existence, that is true enlightenment. That is when one finds their own Sun.'

His grin widened ever so slightly, he had come all the way from his homeland of Astora, leaving everything he had ever known behind in order to find his own Sun. Because Lordran was the very birth place of his Lord Gwyn, surely he would find some goal, some meaning in these ruins. Yes, he would find his own Sun, and his place in this world would finally be realized. No longer would he wander listlessly, forever without direction.

Solaire felt his grin shrink at the thought, his face falling slightly. Wandering listlessly was what he had been doing ever since he became undead. And what a cruel fate being undead was. When he said he had left his homeland… he hadn't exactly done it willingly.

Astora was a fairly small country, but because of its pleasant climate, beautiful beaches and relative safety compared to other countries such as The Great Swamp – Solaire often wondered how great it must have been to be considered an entire country– many nobles congregated there. The entire country was considered a paradise in fact, property there being immensely expensive.

But Solaire was not a noble.

The village he grew up in was a quaint little thing, having a population of mere few hundred people. Wooden walls, thatch roofs and curtains for doors. Only the town hall was made of stone, the building being a short, squat thing. There was a small river that snaked its way out to sea, a winding, spindly current of water that was constantly filled with youngsters splashing about. His grin wobbled and broke by this point, an intense longing for his home filling him. A weight settled in his stomach as he was reminded of a place he could never go back to.

Some thought that the undead were souls that had sinned greatly in life, cursed with undeath. Others believed that the undead were malicious spirits of the darkness, wearing the skin of dead loved ones to deceive. But among all the differing theories and beliefs that scholars and clerics alike argued about, there was one thought that all of them shared.

That the undead were cursed, foul creatures.

His family and friends had looked at him with pity and fear, his mother, Stora had openly started crying when she spotted the cursed Dark Sign upon him. He remembered the scene vividly.

"M-mother? Don't you recognize me? You're little Sun? "

She had screamed at him and cursed the creature wearing his skin…

Solaire would have cried at this memory, but his eyes had long since emptied of tears on the long journey to Lordran.

The local Way of White chapel had started hunting him as soon as word of him got out. It was a small village, nearly everyone knew each other. Word spread quickly, not an even an hour after he had been pulled from the arms of death had clerics wielding morningstars and cudgels bore down upon him with fanatic fervor. Determination brought only brought by intense belief shining in their eyes, paired with great greed.

Those who captured the undead were rewarded with hefty bags of gold, or even promotions in rank. Capturing undead to cart off to an Asylum was not an easy task, undead being freakishly strong compared to an average man. He had managed to throw a man who got too close clean through the wall of a house, with one arm!

He still mentally apologized for the damage.

The Sunlight Warrior contingent, where his brothers in arms lay, men he had prayed with, trained with, fought with. They hadn't even attempted to stop the fanatics. And what made Solaire's stomach twist that much more was that he would have done the same in their position.

It was only after becoming undead himself that Solaire realized how tragic their existence was. Every loved one instantly turning against you, the Way of White hunting your kind relentlessly, forced to hide your nature.

He had sworn to treat every undead that had not hollowed with kindness afterward. Because that is how Solaire wished they had treated him. The Sunlight Warriors were sworn to defend everything that was good, paragons of kindness and virtue…even after death he would live by this.

Trudging footsteps and the rattling of chainmail interrupted his pondering.

He turned around, a hand falling to the hilt of his sword, the other one preparing to hurl a mighty bolt of Sunlight. His tensed form relaxed ever so slightly after he saw the source of the sound, it was not the hollowed soldier he was expecting.

A tall figure beneath mismatched armor that was clearly stolen, dirty and damaged. A youthful but exhausted and dirty face, hidden beneath a slightly too large helmet. He wore quite a few pouches on him, likely filled with throwing knives and fire bombs. But strangely, while his armor was slapdash, damaged and clearly on its last legs, his arms were masterfully crafted.

A sword with a blade nearly pure white in color, the edge so sharp Solaire could tell with just his eyes. A shield that shared the same features, some kind of house symbol on the front of it.

How peculiar… oh dear me, where were his manners! He hadn't even greeted the youth yet!

"You don't look hollow, far from it! Ahaha!"

The boy's eyes lit up as he realized that he was in fact not a hollow, a relieved smile breaking out across his tired face. Solaire's mouth curved up at the corners.

Maybe this journey wouldn't be so lonely after all?


There were so many people.

That was my first thought after I finally got up from my kneeling position in the middle of a park.

There was a group of teenagers milling about, laughing at a likely inappropriate joke. A couple walking down the street with their arms linked, looking into each other's eyes lovingly. A group of people walking down the street in black suits with red ties, another person with orange hair in a fedora talking loudly at the front. Some douche in an expensive looking car revved his car's engine, an infuriating grin on his face as he raced off, skid marks trailing behind him.

I shook my head, a small smile flitting across my face. It was so lively, I had been so used to the empty ruins of Lordran that I'd completely forgotten about the hustle and bustle of cities. I was in Remnant for maybe 20 seconds at most and already I've seen more normal people here than in my entire journey through Lordran. I obviously knew that Vale had more people, but even so, actually seeing such made me feel… content.

Because Lordran had been completely silent. It was not quiet, it was silent. In my opinion there is a very big difference between the two. Quiet is when there is simply very low sound, the idle rustle of a tree, a very gentle breeze that you can just barely hear. Quiet was often relaxing.

But silence, silence is the complete and utter absence of sound. Silence is when you can hear the blood rushing through you, when your heartbeat is the loudest sound you can hear. It's when-

I couldn't fucking see, anything further than three feet away was submerged in a darkness so thick it seemed almost gaseous. It was so quiet that each step I took seemed to echo in this horrible place. I hated this place, but there was nowhere else to go. I had finished doing what I had to do everywhere else, this was the only place left.

I took a deep, shaky breath, taking another step, my tower shield held in front of me in a white knuckled grip.

I took another step, carefully, cautiously.

And another.

And another.

I didn't dare walk too quickly, otherwise I wouldn't see it.

After I took god knows how many terrified steps, I heard it. Repetitive, shaky panting that sounded almost pained. It was not dissimilar to how someone would pant after they had finished crying. I felt an almost mind numbing fear fill me at the sound, cold sweat running down my form as my entire body locked up in fear.

I forced myself to take another step.

And another.

And another.

I saw it.

A huge skeleton on all fours with horrifyingly sharp teeth set in a terrible grin, the empty eyes of its skull making it impossible to tell if it could see me or not. My mind screamed, begged at me to run away, to get to safety, back to the bonfire. I almost listened to it.

But I had to fight, I willed Fire to come forth, a Flame coming to life on my palm-

Suddenly, it lunged at me, my tower shield doing fuck all to stop it.

I felt teeth and claws.

I was torn apart.

I took a deep breath, and let it out as slowly as I could while I slowly counted to five. I loathed silence, and to be back in a place where there wouldn't be silence was… it was nice. I sincerely hoped I would never experience silence on that scale ever again. The darkness was horrible sure, but the silence would be something I would unfortunately never forget.

I pushed away those thoughts with something else.

I'm back!

I mentally repeated for what must have been the tenth time. I could rest! I wouldn't have to fight my way through almost everything! I could eat fucking pizza! My grin widened even further, my hatred for silence completely forgotten at the thought of a XXL meat lover's pizza.

I'm fucking back!

But then I realized something.

Even though Lordran was horrible place, filled with all manner of horrors, deathtraps and selfish traitors… it was also a place where I had met the most wonderful people, glittering diamonds in the rough.

A jesting knight who taught him to throw lightning.

"My fellow warrior of Sunlight!"

An onion who didn't know how to just accept help, and his sweet daughter.

"We knights of Catarina, thank you."

A swamp dweller who gave him Fire.

"When I gave you that Flame… I gave you a part of myself. Please, take good care of it."

Three bickering sisters who had helped him master Fire.

"H-how could we ever thank you?"

A big bearded blacksmith forging weapons and armor worthy of legends.

"Neither of us want to see you go hollow."

A giant and his two friends, giving him gifts.

"Farewell proud human, may every honor be bestowed upon thee."

A lost princess who showed him unique magic.

"You and Artorias, I owe my life to each of you."

An exiled princess who taught him the art of miracles.

"I am most pleased to find you in good health."

I again felt tears come to my eyes, even as I tried my hardest to stifle them. I wasn't some sniffling child anymore… I-I had thought that I'd already accepted that I'd never see them when I decided to link the Flame, but I guess I just didn't think I'd live to regret it. I took a shuddering breath, trying to calm myself.

After several minutes, I had gathered myself enough to think about where to go from here. My brow furrowed, finding out what day it was today would probably be the right move. I worked up the courage to walk up to someone and ask them what the date was.

Their reply was puzzling. It was the end of summer, and Initiation was tomorrow. If my memory served me right, I appeared in Lordran on the day of Initiation. I had gone back a singular day in time? Okay not singular day it was more like a few hours, but still it was peculiar.

I thought on what this meant. Whoever or whatever that took me back to Remnant, did it so that I wouldn't miss Initiation for Beacon. It was almost as if the universe or whatever higher power up above was trying to get him to be a Huntsman.

But did he want to be a Huntsman? I had lived a life of constant struggle, and now I finally had a chance to take it easy for a moment. Did I really want to throw that away? Launch myself into a life of constant battles against the creatures of darkness?

I remembered the darkness, I remembered wonderful individuals, and I remembered the liveliness of Remnant, so different from Lordran.

A wide grin took over my face, a fierce determination I hadn't felt in a long time filling me.

Yes I did. Even if I hadn't seen the horrors of the Abyss, what would I do if I chose not to be a Huntsman? Get a job? Of course not, I had no talent for anything that didn't involve violence. The only jobs I could apply for were probably fast food places that needed a dishwasher. I shuddered at the thought.

I would be a Huntsman. I…I am strong, there was no denying, I had killed the very Gods. Gods that were shells of their former shells, sure, but Gods nonetheless. I felt my grin become sharper, a little bit more aggressive.

I wasn't some stupid kid in over his head anymore, who stole a sword and thought it would be good enough to get into the best Huntsman Academy in the entire country. I shook my head at the fool I once was.

There was no way I would have ever gotten accepted.

I was a proud warrior of Sunlight, The Chosen Undead, I had linked the Fire when so many before me had failed.

I would be a Huntsman.

And I would do it right.


Author's Note: This chapter turned out great in my opinion. I'm a sucker for world building so I thought I would try and illuminate a bit about the world of Dark Souls. The different countries are always mentioned but given no further explanation.

Thought's?