Chapter 1: Undead Asylum
It was done. At my feet lay the quickly dissipating figure of Lord Gwyn, my mission was finally complete...well...almost complete.
I gazed longingly at the dancing embers of the bonfire resting in the centre of this grand cavern, the final resting ground for the Lord Of Cinder. It was...unnerving. All it would take was to simply rest one final time and allow my soul to be torn asunder, to act as fuel for the first flame, such was my purpose.
I knelt before the fire and raised a weary arm (as if to swear fealty to the flame) when a sudden burst of blinding light swathed over me (as though a cleric was casting a miracle). My conscious mind faded into nothingness but I staved off the inevitable long enough to have my final thoughts.
Thoughts consumed by anxiety and anger. Had I travelled so far, endured so much only to leave this world never knowing if I had completed my task or succumbed to my hollowing? Curse the fate of the Undead, curse the God's in their fleeing, curse the monsters who saw fit to stop me and curse this damned world!
If only I could be rid of it...
/
Upon waking fell to the floor from my kneeling position and spun to face my surroundings. In stark contrast to the Kiln, I was now in a forest akin to the Darkroot Garden. It was disorienting to say the least but even more so was the fact that my sword and shield were missing from my person, the only thing left were the clothes (or rather armour) on my back.
And then it struck me like a dagger in the spine.
I had failed, I had failed in my mission and now I was being brought back to relieve it all.
I beat the ground with my fist and wailed in despair for what else could I do?
/
For an hour I rested beneath the splintered moonlight. I contemplated the hopelessness of my task, however all was not lost as I still possessed my pyromancy glove and (upon closer inspection) my catalyst remained firmly strapped to my back. Though I loathed their usage (for it seemed dishonourable to wield anything other than steel) I realised the visage of a warrior defeating hordes of enemies single-handedly was limited to stories long forgotten and figures long dead. My low attunement for magic left me with only enough room for the Great Chaos Fireball and Soul Arrow (one a veritable volley of molten stone and the other a simple projectile). Taking minor solace in having some defence against attackers I rose to my feet only to realise a presence filled with menace.
I was not certain if it even had fur for whatever part of its body not covered in exposed bone was consumed by the unrelenting darkness serving as the foul daemon's body. It's complete and utterly uninhibited darkness was almost beautiful. It stood in the shadows of the leafy canopy and so it took considerable effort to parse the the area where the beast stopped and the night began. The shattered moonlight provided enough light to ascertain that the creature was a bipedal canid of sorts (a mockery of man) but hunched over as though it could not decide between using is forelegs or not. The arms split at awkward angles while the legs bent permanently at the knee but they both shared the same broken spikes of bone jutting out at awkward and impractical angles (a row of similar spikes running down its spine). In short: it was a putrid amalgamate of malice and primal hunger in the form of a bear-sized bipedal wolf.
It began to circle in a manner similar to a human duellist, that alone was terrifying, it was as if its instincts were built for slaughter. It reared its mighty head and unleashed a bone-chilling howl of epic proportions which was subsequently followed by similar garment-soiling calls.
Through my pilgrimage I had learnt many things, not least of which was to never be outnumbered and with that advice in hand I would start by removing one from their number. As soon as I moved forward it erupted in a burst of speed and power, it leapt several cubits into the air to land in front of me (on two legs no less) and clamp its jaw around my right arm. The pain of having your flesh pierced and your bones broken is no less painful the first time than it was the 500th time except back then I would have flinched but now it was simply another opportunity to attack. And attack I did, simply conjuring a flame within the licentious creature was enough to garner a retreat in response but my remaining arm held firmly onto the bleached mask while digging deeply with the fingers into the vibrant red eye sockets. This elicited the intended response from the beast (namely the continued hold on my arm) and having bought myself the precious few seconds I needed my spell was complete. Upon its completion the wolf swelled comically before bursting in a cloud of blackened flesh and flames.
The explosion threw me back into the base of a tree while the flames ignited the surroundings in a crescent of fire. The light it provided was enough to make out that no less than 7 other identical creatures were encroaching upon my position while I had only 3 more Fireballs and an arm I was not yet prepared to sacrifice. I righted myself with my staff and prepared a Soul Arrow. Judging by their reaction they were either unfamiliar with magic or simply lacking in intelligence for they watched beningly as I cast a floating orb of luminous azure at the nearest of their company. My aim struck true and battered the fiend in its side but the result was underwhelming, a small dent in its ribs from which rich red blood wept. The attack brought the full wrath of the pack upon me as they charged while calling for blood (mine presumably).
It was painfully clear that I was outmatched and so my options were to die here or run and make a sport of my death...unless...unless there was way to escape with my life. Gripping my staff so tightly I feared it might snap beneath my grip, I steadied my breathing and focused. This was my only chance and if I wasted it...I shuddered to think of how they would pick my armour from their teeth.
From my previous encounter it was clear that their eyes were much like our own, meaning, they were weak and lead directly to the brain. Having finished my casting I watched as the as the streak of blue bent and fluttered like a bird in flight before striking...directly beneath the eye. The wound was too shallow and only caused it to scream in pain (further stirring the group's frenzy). I had wasted my chance and at this distance I had no chance of escaping (not that I had any to begin with).
Accepting my fate, I waited patiently to be torn apart by tooth and nail. The first of their number to reach within striking distance was the damaged wolf and (judging by the jittering of its jaw) it seemed impatient to end me. That impatience would be its downfall. Its arm swung widely which I parried easily with my staff before burrowing the shaft through the damaged socket. The creature convulsed voilently and threw me away in its spasms before evaporating into black mist and losing all solidity. Unwilling to allow the confused monsters any time to react, I cast two more spells in succesion that reduced their number to and made them cautious of the power I held. Their caution was momentary however as two of the braver (or rather, more foolish) moved simultaneously in hope of success (or perhaps they simply succumbed to want). I readied myself for their onslaught.
10 seconds and they would be upon me. It takes 3 seconds to cast Great Chaos Fireball and 1 to cast Soul Arrow, Great Chaos Fireball can hit mutliple targets so it would be best to wait until they were-
"Bang!" 5 deafening thunderclaps (so close together they almost seemed to be one) broke the tension in the air and left 5 bodies behind to explode in smoke. Had the Gods come to my aid? If so, which ones? My questions were quickly rendered unimportant by the distant howls of similiar creatures. Taking to my heels, I rushed for the thinner patch of trees while a strange sense of guilt at being unable to thank my saviour overtook my heart. However I could not stop and search while risking a second ambush from these fiendsih creatures.
/
A steady hour of running had taken no toll on my undead body (as the bursts of speed were replenished in seconds) but the increasing unease at having made (seemingly) no progresss was cause for a short rest. Using this time to check my remaining equipment, I emptied the satchel and pouches along my waist with gentle urgency. A detail that stupified me upon noticing was that I had a knife strapped to my belt since the first day I had found this armour yet I had never unsheathed or even considered using it. How strange. But I had no time to think on this as the quiet whispers of potential predators carried on the winds hurried my search. In my largest pouch a collection of black firebombs and throwing knives brought a rare grin to surface beneath my helmet. Within the two smaller pouches a collection of moss (of both the budding and red variety), a precious few sprites of humanity, my trusty estus flask filled to the brim with sweetest nectar, several glowing prism stones and (something I was both proud and ashamed of possessing) the Dragon Torso Stone.
But amongst them was one item in particular I was searching for, a Divine Blessing. Removing the lid off the golden vial, I tipped the contents down my throat and into my (seemingly bottomless) stomach. Seconds later I felt the fragmented bones in my arm reset and the flesh knit itself together with not a trace of the previous battle's wounds left.
Having completed my search and healed my wounds I resumed my search for civilisation.
Night turned to day and as the sun rose over the horizon I had made my way to the very fringes of the forest only to discover a truth that caused anguish and frustration to rise from the depths of my gut and out through my throat in fits of profanity. I had been either heading in the wrong direction, spawned in some valley or both. I knew this from the 30 cubit tall cliff side barring my entry to the plains above, it was as though fate had spat in my face and let it be known that its transgression shall not go unpunished. As plans born of desperation rather than ingenuity brewed in my mind I reached with one hand for a throwing knife and another to the blade at my belt before taking both and digging them into the crevices in the cliff face. It marked the beginning of a long and gruelling climb which would only end if I cleared this obstacle or fell. As an undead I did not sweat and muscles did not tire, however I still felt pain and the longer I climbed the longer the fall would be, so I hoped beyond hope that the Gods did not strike me down in my hubris.
/
As I grasped the edge of the cliff the Father of Life dominated the centre of the sky, with its wondrous body bathing all in its loving light. I hauled my weight onto the soft grass above and allowed my heart be cleansed by its warmth. A previous few extra minutes of peace alerted me to the ignobility of my actions. Its startling realisation coaxing me out of my trance and onto the paved stone of the path ahead, it was clear that the path had been worn by years of traffic and (following that logic) should lead to civilisation.
/
After several uneventful hours of walking I happened upon its entrance and was left entranced by the beauty on display at this hour for most would remain firmly in bed (though it could be to stay vigilant during their most vulnerable hours). Tall buildings of grey stone dominated every corner and their numerous windows illuminated by unflinching flames. I was uncertain as to where I should rest my eyes as they always found the bare skin of a maiden. It was making my cold skin warm. Keeping my eyes locked on the pavement prevented me from viewing my surroundings but a quick glance towards the sky revealed a spire of bleached stone in the centre of the city, it was obviously the residence of the local lord (or maybe even the king), and so I now had a new destination. The closer I came to the estate the more confused and awestruck I became. I had seen magnificently crafted limestone castles so enormous in size that they beggared belief (and as a man poor in faith I was quick to buy it), this (however) was a entirely separate type of beauty. Everything was so sharp and sleek it looked like a schematic from another time, the very walls seemed comprised wholly of glass and sharp edges. The cobbled pathway and neatly trimmed stretch of grassland were telling of either magic or fervent attention. It looked a painted world of perfection but for the minute chips on the porcelain facade, it proved the area was well roamed but not yet abandoned to the elements.
It felt strange to view buildings and pathways not yet brought to ruin, and slightly concerning. How strong and resilient must the inhabitants be to retain their city...and would they take kindly to strangers?
/
"Now what brings you here Mr..."
"Oscar, just Oscar, I have no family name. What brings me here is that I wish to join your institution"
"Well you certainly don't waste time, however you have missed the application period and as of right now we are only accepting transfer students. But that should by no means stop you from applying next year"
The events that brought me here seemed to flash by in an instant. I had entered the premises an hour prior only to find that it was protected by no guardsmen and housed at least a hundred score young men and women. It was a trivial matter to ask to see the lord of this place known as 'The Headmaster' (though the questioning looks of what I can only assume were disgust I could most certainly do without). The only one who saw fit to stop my advance being the mature woman now standing to his side (her dress, while form-fitting, at least left no skin bare). She kindly directed me towards towards his office when I insisted upon meeting him, which now leads to my current predicament...
"Though I am not beyond begging, I have no residence or knowledge of this land. I am however, an accomplished warrior. I have lived only by my steel and honour with no other services I could profit from, could you not take pity upon me and allow me a task befitting a knight?"
"I have no record of you from anywhere, and I pride myself on knowing of every powerful individual on the face of remnant. Though the Grimm are a great threat, I cannot just let any person into Beacon without a single record to speak of"
"Grimm? If you speak of those wolf daemons that live in the forest below the cliff then yes I slew three of their number, though I did use pyromancy and magic to aid-"
"magic? Surely you mean your semblance-"
"No I mean magic, the magic that sorcerers are so fond of. Though I do understand if you believe it to be unsavoury and will curb its usage" At this point he viewed me with visible confusion and his maidservant looked at him questioningly.
"Could you…demonstrate this…magic for us" I nodded in affirmation and removed the staff from my back. I aimed towards the closed doors and (with the signature chime of a successful spell) the streak of blue light dashed through the air and clashed against the door with an explosive crash. What remained was a large dent that should be unachievable for a wood to make (obviously having been reinforced with some ore). I turned to my company to see both exchanging confused looks (a definite change from his default façade of politeness).
"It seems I was mistaken Mr Oscar. I'll organise your papers by the end of the day and Glynda will show you to the dorms, we'll discuss the finer details tomorrow" Before miss Goodwitch could respond I gave a deep bow and thanked him profusely. After my show of appreciation I was told that my details would need to be forged which I refused vehemently, when questioned I responded,
"It is simply a matter of honour; the actions of a single knight could tarnish the reputation of all others and that is something I cannot allow. Is there no just way I could enter, perhaps a show of skill?" He pondered my words momentarily before reaching down to a strange box on his desk and speaking.
"Could Jaune Arc come to the headmaster's office immediately" His voice echoed from all corners of the room and (though I believed it merely my imagination) also seemed to resound outside of the room. I resisted the urge to search for the noise as the headmaster smiled gently at me while his accomplice seemed even more confounded than I. It was disconcerting to say the least, who could this Jaune Arc be? Hopefully it was mostly human.
Ozpin interrupted my thoughts with a quick nod towards the door,
"It'd be best if you left for the arena now, miss Goodwitch, if you'd be so kind" She called me to her side, and as we left the room Ozpin called:
"One more thing Oscar. Welcome to Beacon" With that I was moved quickly through the numerous hallways and eventually to a mess hall bustling with students eating various strange and familiar meals, but I paid little attention as I had no need for material sustenance. I was shown where my classes would be held, the prospect of uncovering the buried secrets of history tantalising to my starved curiosity (the scant amounts I gleaned in Lordran leaving much to the imagination and even more to speculation).
/
"Are you sure you're ready for combat?" Her voice betraying genuine concern, she gestured to the savagely torn and rent gauntlet of my right arm which I hastily hid behind my back. We had arrived at a small room to the side of the raised platform acting as my future battleground where I would be equipped for my future battle.
"It's nothing to be concerned with however if I could trouble you any further would you procure a greatsword and kite shield for me?" She raised her eyebrow in (what I assume was) suspicion. Her expression remained conflicted as a moment of silence passed before she let out an inaudible sigh and questioned further.
"How large would you like this greatsword to be?"
"The pommel should reach my neck" She nodded and raised her strange wand (surprisingly similar to a riding crop in appearance) to cast magic unlike any I had seen before. She tore a chunk of alabaster metal from the wall and formed it into the sharp edges and firm guard of a blade. The process was mesmerising in how metal would melt despite being cool to suit her orders. The blade floated towards me before resting at my feet (the hilt being interlaced with rings in place of leather).
"I'm afraid this is the best I can do at such short notice but it should be enough for a single fight" It was magnificent in its own right but the small notches and uneven edges betrayed its perceived perfection. Before she could further flatten the wall I stopped her.
"With this blade I have no further need for a shield" It was mostly true, I rarely used my shield for anything other than to parry blows or make use of any blessings it held. Her expression questioned me momentarily before a slight shake of her head removed the doubt from her mind.
I was led to the edge of the arena where a blonde young man awaited opposite. He seemed oddly thin but his armour may have denied him size. His breastplate (a dull white) left his joints and midsection exposed while the only other protection came in the form of gauntlets and similar slabs of metal bound to the arms with leather. The rest of his body was entirely unprotected. He looked anxious but determined at the same time, obviously having faced death before yet not broken by it (courage is not the absence of fear but the ability to overcome it and all). Miss Goodwitch waited on the far centre, I assume she would be acting as the intermediary for our bout.
The familiar thoughts of battle invaded my mind. Plans, fears, motivations, fatigue, but with a single breath they too were expelled leaving my mind waiting for one thing, the signal to begin.
"Begin!"
I rushed towards him with all the vitriol I could afford to give. He seemed a typical knight, it was something I could respect and (more importantly) something I understood. It was hard to judge when he would strike, a testing downward blow revealed he was quick on his feet but not nearly strong enough to withstand the full extent of my next attack.
He blocked my slice with all the grace of a novice, blocking the blow by leaning into it (almost as if he didn't mind being struck), it pushed him several paces back but my next strike caught him unawares. I thrust directly for his chest but the strike did not yield the torrent of blood I expected, instead I could feel an unnatural hardness beyond what his armour would provide. My arm was thrown back like I had tried to strike a wall, and though my blow staggered him he seemed no worse for wear.
He was a dangerous opponent, but I had slain steel monsters before and this would be no different...
It seemed my window for attack was over as he moved quickly to intercept my sluggish blow, his blade gliding dangerously across my helm before I could completely dodge. His attacks seemed more suited for a spear with the flurry of thrusting blows and while they were reckless they were not blindly swung. What he lacked in range he made up for in speed while not one of my hits landed…but that was never their intent. It seemed he hadn't realised I had lead him to the edge of the arena under the guise of defence, another strike from his sword parried quickly but with more force than usual left him open for a strike. His eyes widened at the vulnerability but shifted to confusion as I moved through his guard and behind him. Not sparing a moment I cut ineffectually towards his midsection which he dodged hastily.
He was off balance and in range…exactly as planned.
Raising my blade once more I held it flat before using the momentum of my spin to collide with his side, it struck with a resounding thud followed by a cry of pain from the subsequent crash to the floor. I moved quickly towards him and kicked his body onto its front before slamming my heel into his gut a few times to ensure he would not resist.
It was the perfect opportunity to end the fight, unfortunate that I had to end the life of one so young but it could not be helped for the world no longer holds the amicability for benign duels. Bringing the sword above my head I aimed the tip towards his throat. His widened eyes and heavy breathing reeked of fear while the rapid pounding of my undead heart possessed my soul with the demonic spirit of bloodlust; its deafening symphony building throughout the fight to a crescendo which drowned the shouting and pleading of my inner conscious so that only it remained. With his soul I would grow stronger and as I grew stronger I would kill again, a vicious cycle of death and rebirth so primal it was frighteningly attractive. It was a cycle I would happily renew with the downward thrust of my sword.
I leaned my weight onto the pommel but my arm jolted to the right so it glided harmlessly across the floor (bringing me to the same painful position as my opponent).
"ENOUGH!" Her voice was shrill with anger and the resulting echoes dominated the following silence. I stood quickly and dusted myself off before walking towards her. Her penetrating gaze was achieving its goal in damming me for my bloodlust; I could not help but hang my head in shame.
"You tried to kill another student and judging by your posture I believe I don't need to tell you why that is inexcusable. If it were up to me I'd have you expelled immediately, unfortunately it is not" She sighed deeply while holding her head and remained silent for a while before speaking again,
"However!" Her voice loud and commanding once again "If you ever break regulation again I will personally remove you from the school grounds. Do I make myself clear?" Her tone held finality, she thought me a child to just agree blindly and accept her words. I would gladly prove her wrong.
"Regulation? The world is not a playground for children to frolic and banter within! It is cruel, it is deadly and most important of all, it is unforgiving. Even the smallest blunder can bring death's scythe to your throat and as a knight, nay! As a warrior! I have faced and fallen to that cursed blade hundreds of times! I believe I have as much if not more experience in battle than you ever will, for every single one I have faced was to the death. There is no room for sport in life and if your institution wishes to survive it would do well to remember that…lest it too fall to ruin…" With my helm dipped to my chest I almost ran for the exit. In my haste I did not realise an armoured and armed girl standing in the doorway which caused me crash into her shoulder. I muttered an incoherent apology and attempted to move along however a rough hand seized my right shoulder before my second step was taken.
Before I could react, I felt something solid strike against my chest with all the force of a Capra Demon. The blow forced me to the ground but as an undead my vision remained clear enough to see the flaming crimson hair and piercing emerald eyes of my assailant.
During my time In Lordran I had never faced an opponent such as this; all of them had been either mad or inhuman, this was different. That pure, unbridled hatred I had forced unto others for barring my way or for past sins was now directed at me. It brought forth a fear I had not felt before, a fear wrought of guilt, a fear that I too would have judgement passed upon me. A split second was all it took for that to change. The fear turned to anger, desperate and unfocused; it coursed through me all the while rejecting any crime I had committed. It was new and entirely alien feeling, the likes of which I had never felt before.
I did not like it….
A/N: Ok first off I'd like to say that I hate all of you. The story wasn't even finished yet but nearly 150 of you read it. This was more of a story to test out the website and get used to all of the controls (like the fact that you can't ctrl+v everything into it without it looking like the source code). I'm sorry for the fast pace of the story, I constantly worry that I'm going to slowly and end up overshooting the pace instead.
But enough about my problems, lets talk about where this is headed.
I do plan to continue the story (this was supposed to be a one-shot until it gained way more attention than I intended) but don't expect anything close to an update schedule.
I'd like to thank all of those who read it and I'll see those of you who've decided to stay in the next chapter (a week or so from now)