I've had this idea in my head for a while but I finally brought myself to write it. I know it's not the most original concept regarding Oscar's character, but what can I say? I like this very unlucky knight a lot haha. This will be a two-shot fic btw. I'll try to write the continuation soon.

Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoy the chapter!

"Wait. There's something else I want to tell you."

Oscar tried to reach one of his arms towards the other Undead in a desperate attempt to catch their attention.

Despite his efforts, his arm remained anchored to his side. The weight of his sword and shield, usually so natural and easy to handle, had become too heavy for him to move, let alone lift.

His movements passed unseen and his voice remained unheard. All Oscar could do was to lie still on the pile of rubble under him and watch how the Undead abandoned the cell.

They didn't give Oscar even something of a second glance over their shoulder.

A second later, they were gone, onward to their own personal adventure, one where Oscar no longer had a role to play.

A sad smile appeared on Oscar's lips from behind his helmet.

Was it childish of him to take offense at the coldness the other Undead had shown to him?

Why should they care about him?

Why should Oscar mean anything to them?

Oscar had freed them from their eternal confinement, but there had been no comraderie or sympathy behind the act. Oscar had simply done so out of duty to himself and to the prophecy he and his family believed to be true.

Not once had Oscar stopped to consider the emotions or interests of the other Undead.

Not once had he felt guilty for burdening them with such a dreadful fate.

A fate that, no matter how horrible and cruel, Oscar had always hoped would be his in the end.

He had freed as many Undead as possible as some sort of failsafe in case he failed his mission and his journey was cut short. It had been a tactic, a cunning and sensible strategy born from the mind of an elite knight of Astora, and yet, Oscar had never fathomed that such possibility would ever become his reality.

I am the chosen Undead. Me, and no one else. This was my fate... at least, that's what I have always believed, but now, look at me. Hollowing just a few days after I embarked on my journey as an Undead. Defeated after my first encounter with a powerful enemy. Crushed before my quest could truly begin. Dying and hollowing alone in this pit's very bottom. Wasted, lost, without a purpose.

He laughed under his breath. A sharp pain emerged from the center of his chest.

Fateless.

The Hollowing process had started. He could feel it spreading from his heart to the rest of his body like a blight.

Oscar clenched his jaw, trying to contain an upcoming scream, but he soon discovered the effort was unnecessary.

He didn't have the strength necessary to scream, no matter how much his body demanded it. His pain and feelings, whether he wanted or not, would have to remain trapped within himself.

Why? What did I ever do to deserve this fate?

Eventually, the pain ceased, or perhaps it remained, and his body had simply become numb to it.

Oscar could only wonder.

After a small moment of pause that brought him little rest, his scattered thoughts wandered back to the other Undead he had saved.

A dark feeling sprouted from his rotting heart.

Ungrateful bastard.

Oscar's teeth chattered. The hatred he felt towards the other Undead was as sudden as it was warm and comforting, almost like the flame of a bonfire.

Then, he heard it.

The distant echoes of clashing metal and crumbling stone mixed with the grotesque roars of a demon, the same beast that had reduced Oscar to his pathetic current state.

He laughed again. The aftertaste of his jealousy was not bitter, but sweet and tasty.

That demon will kill you. You will die and go hollow, you useless fool. You are not the Chosen One; freeing you was a waste of my time. You are a failure... and knowing your journey will be as short as mine fills my soul with nothing but joy. I'm glad you failed, I'm glad that creature will destroy you; and if he doesn't, then I will.

The battle carried on.

Before he knew it, Oscar found himself cheering for the demon. If that monstrosity succeeded in killing the other Undead, then he would forgive the creature for what it had done to him.

He may even feel eternal gratitude towards it.

Yes... if the demon fails to kill you, then I'll do it myself. Once I go Hollow, I'll hunt you down, I promise! Damned thief of my fate, you could never be the Chosen One. The Chosen One is me... ME! And if I can't be it, then no one else can! Let this world rot in everlasting darkness! I don't care! I—

His thoughts met a sudden end when the scream of the Undead resonated in his ears in the form of an agonizing cry.

It cleansed Oscar's heart and thoughts from the whirlwind of bleak emotions that had plagued him.

The hatred, the jealousy, the resentment... all of them disappeared and were replaced by a paralyzing sense of lucidity.

The evil smirk painted on his mouth shattered. Oscar cracked his lips open in disbelief.

"No." Oscar looked up to the hole in the roof where fading rays of light infiltrated the room and showered his entire body. "No, this cannot be. You can't be dead."

He waited in despair for the voice of the other Undead to reach him again, but everything was silent. Even the monster had gone quiet as well.

Had they killed each other in battle?

Oscar refused the possibility, but the unbreakable silence soon proved his hopes wrong.

"Please." Oscar sharpened his hearing, but he caught only the rythmic sound of droplets of water falling from the roof and the soft blow of the wind racing through the asylum's corridors. Of the other Undead there was no sign. "Don't do this to me."

He waited.

No sound ever came to him.

"This isn't true." Oscar muttered. Grief formed a painful lump in his throat and tears escaped from his eyes. "You said you would carry on my quest in my name. I gave you my last Estus Flask as sign of my faith in you. You promised me you would get out of this infernal place and fulfill the prophecy. Dying and Hollowing here is my fate, not yours, you hear me? This is not your fate!"

A coughing fit punished Oscar. A stream of blood surging from the corner of his mouth mixed with the tears dropping from his chin.

"I..."

For a moment, his Hollowing stopped. It was perhaps nothing more than a delusion, but to Oscar, it felt real.

Amidst his grief for the untimely demise of the other Undead, guilt found its place in his heart and forced Oscar to remember how unjust and cruel he had been; of how he had no right to cry the person he had envied to the point where he had wished for their death.

That wasn't me, it was the Hollowing. I never would have betrayed them if it wasn't for this curse spreading over my body. I would have never opposed them because of some petty feeling like envy. That's not the kind of man I —

He couldn't finish.

It wasn't that he had no energy or sanity left in his mind to do so.

The reason for his self-censuring was simpler.

It didn't matter if he tried to deny it, Oscar knew the truth.

He was lying.

That's not true. It was not the Hollowing which put those thoughts in my head.

His sword and shield escaped his hands.

It simply set them free. My true self...the jealous, resentful, traitorous man I am deep down. The man I become when my conviction is put to the test. The man that could have succumbed to darkness and opposed you in a blind fit of envy had we both made it out of this place, my friend.

Oscar rested his head against his bed of cold stone.

The Hollowing reassumed its work on his body. Oscar didn't fight against it.

He closed his eyes once more, knowing that the next time he would open them, he would be merely an empty shell corrupted by despair and driven by madness.

I see it now. A man like me could never have been the Chosen One, but perhaps, a person like you could have. You listened to my request, you accepted the burden of my fate, you gave me hope when I had none.

What had Oscar said to the Undead back then?

If he remembered correctly, he had thanked them for allowing him to die with hope in his heart.

"Nothing but a lie." Oscar said, using the last of the air remaining inside his lungs.

I failed. Gwyn's fire will not be linked again. My quest was nothing but a fool's errand. Nothing I did ever mattered; it was all in vain.

The cold embrace of the Hollowing dug its nails on his back and pierced his skin. It was only a matter of minutes before Oscar lost himself to it.

Were failure and oblivion my fate all along? Were they your fate too, my friend?

Madness started to erase every trace of his old self to give place to the new being Oscar was destined to become.

Oscar made one futile attempt to keep his ideas coherent, but they slipped through his fingers like sand.

The only thing that he could hang on to was the memory of the other Undead's back as they had exited the cell.

Though the image had formerly caused him pain, now it brought him bittersweet comfort.

Oh, that's right. There was something else I wanted to tell you, but you left before I could do so. Something tells me you had a tendency to leave others talking to themselves.

Oscar's lips moved. Meeting his cursed fate with a smile felt like a victory, no matter how insignificant or small.

My name. Oscar of Astora. I wanted you to remember me as something more than a mere Elite Knight, but our fates would not have it so. That's fine, I'm not worthy of being remembered at all, but you were, Chosen Undead. I wish...I knew... your name...

Oscar heard a fainting sound.

He ignored it.

It couldn't be real.

And even if it was, it meant nothing to him.

He was Hollow, and so was the other Undead.

That was their reality.

Everything else were simply the insane delusions of a lost soul.

A soul that had once gone by the name of Oscar.

I wish...you hadn't met...

A soul that had once aspired to greatness.

...the same fate as me.

A soul that now was hollow.