A little something I came up with after playing Fromsoft's latest brainchild. Be warned, updates will be slow coming and it most likely won't be as long as my other fics. Also, those who have yet to see/play Bloodborne, be warned, spoilers ahead.

That being said, I own neither the rights to Fate/Zero or anything produced by Fromsoftware.

Chapter 1: Waking Nightmare.

Uryuu Ryuunosuke was a seriously disturbed human being, to the point it was even questionable if he qualified as a human being to begin with.

From the moment he was born there was something off about the young man, something not quite right in that seemingly empty head of red hair. It manifested itself in strange ways, like how he one day took it upon himself to count the gravel in the park as a child, only getting discouraged after reaching ten-thousand, and even then his mother had to drag him away.

However, other than the odd moment, which his parents would quickly hush up, there was little about him that implied he was anything other than a slightly odd boy with unusual tastes.

For example, unlike most boys his age, Ryuunosuke absolutely detested Movies, more accurately he detested any from the Horror, Thriller, Splatter or War genres. When asked to explain himself, a rarity in and of itself, he admitted that while he could understand the necessity for them, he failed to see the appeal in trying to minimise one's fear of death. Death, according to Ryuunosuke, was something that couldn't be experienced while alive, and thus impossible to understand.

In other words, it was something one cannot experience on any sort of entertainment medium.

As a result, Ryuunosuke had become highly desensitized to 'Death' as a subject, and could sit through hours of gruesome practical effects, bloody make-up & corn-syrup stained bodies, without batting an eye. While this might have been deemed impressive by anyone else, an unfortunate side-effect of this desensitization was that, in order to answer his earnest curiosity behind the 'Nature' of 'Death', he'd become a homicidal maniac.

Now it should be noted that, with all that said, Ryuunosuke was not, clinically speaking, insane. He didn't name his favorite knife, and indeed considered the concept highly silly. He didn't favour any one way of killing his victims, instead choosing to experiment with different methods from time to time.

No, despite any claims to the contrary, Ryuunosuke retained full possession of all his mental faculties. Indeed, many of his female victims had admitted they'd been attracted by his dignified, enigmatic posture. The problem was that the aforementioned Mental Faculties were inherently simpler than normal to the point he truly believed he was doing the world a solid.

His first victim had been his own sister. It was nothing so juvenile as jealousy or hatred that had driven him to extinguish her life, such things would require he feel something, anything for her at all. She had simply been there and he had wanted to know how she'd look when she died compared to when she lived, burning the image into his mind once the deed was done. Such was the case of all his other victims, typically women & children; he'd never once felt anything for or against them in particular, they'd simply been in the right place at the right time.

However, as with most 'Artists', after a period of success & emotional highs, and at least thirty corpses, Ryuunosuke began to experience a serious loss in motivation. No matter what he attempted, he just couldn't get the same level of satisfaction, the same 'fresh' feeling, not even when he dragged his victims' deaths out for at least half a day.

Thus it was with a morose heart that Ryuunosuke returned home after five years, or more accurately, perhaps it would be better to say he returned to the place of his rebirth, for rather than greeting his parents at the front door like a normal person, he'd waited for them to fall asleep before breaking into the crumbling, abandoned storehouse in the backyard where he'd stashed his sister's corpse.

It did his heart some good to find her waiting for him after five long years, though sadly it hadn't done anything to reignite his creativity. Just as he was considering leaving, however, his eyes landed on a rotten old book atop the mountain of junk he'd buried her in.

Now while Ryuunosuke had occasionally tapped into old Chinese tomes during his time as a University Student, he wasn't what you'd call an expert. Still, even he could tell at a glance that the book, more of a collection of notes rather, was pretty damn old, evidenced in part by its worm-eaten pages and the postscript that dated it back to the 9th year of the Keio area, some hundred years prior, during the Bakumatsu.

Intrigued, as he never thought his family would possess something so rare, he'd decided to flip through it and was instantly blown away by the preposterous nonsense contained within, detailing western dark magic, ranging from human sacrifices to the summoning of otherworldly demons.

Naturally, Ryuunosuke didn't put much truck behind such things, indeed, he was prepared to brush the whole thing off as a joke one of his ancestors had come up with to show off his balls, for if memory served, possessing such western literature would bring naught but shame. Still, while he doubted its authenticity, he couldn't deny he admired the cojones of his ancestor for keeping such a text, so much so that he felt a bout of inspiration coming on.

Following the instructions detailed in the book as faithfully as possible, Ryuunosuke set about attempting to summon a demon, using his victim's blood to draw out the Magic Circle, only to fail three times due to mistakes that lead him to wasting the blood before the ritual could be completed.

Realizing that his reason for failure lay in his lack of resources, he decided to forgo his usual methods of targeting people on the street and instead broke into the home of a family of four, casually butchering the three oldest members, leaving only the youngest son alive, the little tyke looking on in horror as his parents' murderer put the finishing touches to his ritual.

"Fill, fill, fill er' up…fill…" Ryuunosuke hummed, ignoring the noise of the television in the corner as he used his bloody toe to finish drawing the summoning circle. Impractical, maybe, but then he'd never been the type to plan ahead, and while he'd lucked out by finding a bucket to hold the blood, a paintbrush had been another story "Repeat four times…or was it five?" he muttered, glancing at the tome "And then I have to destroy it every time it's filled…"

While it wasn't in Ryunosuke's nature to pay so much attention to detail, at least to something that had little to do with death, his latest past-time required a decidedly more serious atmosphere than he was used to. Still, it did fit the mood, and for all he knew that was just as important as ensuring the sigils were drawn the right way.

Not that he could have possible failed mind you. Not after practicing so many times, something made possible only by the generous donation of the house's elder residents blood.

'Maybe four was too many…' he mused, eyeing the reserves that were stored in the bucket uncertainly. Ryuunosuke was typically very particular about disposing of his victims' bodies, which was one of the reasons he typically only killed one at a time. Killing a family of four in their own home was certain to make things very difficult in Fuyuki for the foreseeable future. 'Oh well…' he mused, shrugging dismissively as he counted off the repetitions on his finger with a smile "Okay that's five times." He noted, turning his attention to the television, where a report on one of his earlier failed attempts was being broadcast "Do you think I went a little too far?" he wondered aloud, leaning on the couch and smiling at the family patriarch, whose head promptly fell to the floor with a sickening thud, right before the eyes of his horrified son.

"Hey kiddo," Ryuunosuke called out, switching off the television, casting the already darkened living room into complete darkness "Tell me, do you believe in terrible demons?"

The boy gaped at him as if her were insane, which as had been firmly established was sadly not the case. Still, it was rather stupid of Ryuunosuke to expect the kid to answer through the gag he'd placed on him. Then again, he'd always had a soft spot for kids, it was okay for them to get so scared they pissed themselves, as opposed to adults, which frankly even he found pathetic.

"I only ask because all the Newspapers & Magazines are calling me a 'Terrible Demon'," he elaborated, approaching his trembling captive at a sedate pace, it wasn't as if he was going anywhere "but supposing Demons like that truly existed in the world, wouldn't that be rude to them? You really gotta be clear about this kinda stuff."

With that said, he crouched down in front of the kid, a cheerful grin adorning his face as he looked into those terrified ochre eyes "Hey there! My name's Uryuu Ryuunosuke and I'm a Demon!" he greeted, only to sigh at the look in the boy's eyes "Yeah, I'm not sure if that's the right way to go about it either…" he admitted, his good mood faltering somewhat, until he held up the manuscript for the kid to see "Old huh? Yeah, I found this old book in our old storehouse. Seems some of my Ancestors were doing research into summoning demons, which made me wanna find out if they actually exist."

If the boy wasn't gagged and completely scared out of his mind it was likely he could have confirmed the existence of demons for his captor. After all, there was one right in front of him.

"But you know," Ryuunosuke continued as he got to his feet "If a Demon really does appear, it'd be pretty stupid of me to just chat with it for a while before sending it back to whatever pit of hell it came from without giving it something…right?" he sat down on a nearby chair, leaning on the back as he held a hand up to his face, as if asking a favour "So with that said, if a demon does show up…ya think you could let it kill ya, kiddo?"

The boy reacted as anyone in such a situation would to such a question, by redoubling his futile struggles to escape, tears, screams and the stench of urine filling the air as Ryuunosuke threw his head back and laughed, the sound a twisted mockery of a child's.

"Man, I wonder what it feels like to be killed by a demon?" he marveled, rocking back and forward on his chair "Not a lot of people can claim to have seen that!"

The boy did not listen, in truth, he cared little what the monster in human skin had to say, all that mattered was that he needed to escape, to put as much distance between him and the monster that killed his family, his eyes shutting tight as he tried to block out the insane laughter, urging himself to wake up from this terrible dream, only to grimace as something burned the back of his hand, his eyes snapping open as a whirlwind formed in the center of the bloody circle the monster had drawn on the floor in his family's blood, which had begun to glow ominously while, somewhere in the distance, the boy heard the sound of a bell chiming.

Play: Hunter's Dream...

Mist gently twirled through the air, giving it a cloudy quality that only grew thicker the closer it got to the ground, rendering it indistinct unless one looked straight down. However, the odds of anyone such an interest in the firmament was unlikely, given the ominous sight of the small, hilltop church, overlooking a sizeable graveyard, countless headstones lining the outer walls, the field itself filled with haunting white flowers that seemed to reach out for the moon overhead.

Some, more like as not those troubled souls with more regrets than hoys, may see it as a comforting place, offering them a brief respite from whatever transient, passing dreams had led them there from the waking world. Still others might consider such a place eerie, haunting even, and would hurriedly search for the nearest exit for fear of being punished for their trespassing.

And indeed, trespassing they would be, were the residents of this space the sort to turn away guests after so long without so much as a whisper on the wind, the morose silence of the mist and the pale moonlight only adding to the lonesome air.

Abruptly, the silence was shattered, not with a roar, but with a soft, almost hesitant jingle, as soft as an infant's breath, yet as clear as a bugle's call. Though no wind blew in this timeless place, the beckoning chime of a bell parted the fog like a knife, alerting the denizens of the hill to its call.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, small figures emerged from mist, their malformed heads and skeletal frames belying the intensity of their reverence, their excitement palpable as they began chattering amongst themselves in their own tongue until one of the side doors to the Chapel swung open, causing them to fall into reverent silence.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, a figure clad in a plain hood and dress emerge, carrying in her arms a cloth bundle, too large to be a baby, a pair of silver eyes gazing heavenwards, the moonlight shining off a porcelain face and hair as bright as silver framed by a simple plain bonnet.

"The Bell Beckons…" she noted, her tone soft, torn between surprise and confusion, both pleased and troubled by this latest occurrence, for on the one hand, while it was good that there remained people who knew enough to seek their aide, the fact remained that in order to seek that aide, there would have to be a great need. A need, it should be noted, that should have been done away with some time ago "Could a new hunt have begun?"

As if in response to her words, the bundle in her arm stirred, four long tentacles reaching up to stroke her face, the porcelain figure glancing down, her features softening somehow as she held a segmented hand to her cheek.

"Indeed…ours is not to question why…" the plain figure agreed, turning her head to the side as the fountain to her right bubbled, several malformed figures emerging from beneath the moonlit waters, one of them holding out a fragile bell, faded with age, yet seeming to glow in response to the distant chimes of its brother "There is work to be done…Good Hunter."

Taking the bell from the fountain dweller, she held it over the bundle, surrendering the relic to the tendrils that rose from the bundle as she set it on a nearby table, stepping back calmly as the bundle gave the bell a simple shake, the soft sound resonating through the air before both vanished in a flash.

Play: Fate/Zero Main Theme...

Ryuunosuke blinked, the would-be summoner staring at the bloody, freshly-drawn Magic Circle in amazement as it began to glow. While he had to admit he'd been hoping for some sort of reaction after all the trouble he'd gone through, after all, it'd kind of suck that he killed all those people for nothing, right? Still, he honestly hadn't anticipated anything like this, and while watching the mini tornado trash the room was kinda cool, he couldn't help but feel let down that actually Summoning a Demon from hell looked no more impressive than the special effects budget for a cheesy horror movie.

Still, the very fact that it WASN'T a movie, that the sight before him was actually happening, gave the teen hope, his eyes widening in anticipation, his heart dancing in his chest as he prepared to greet the unknown for the first time since he'd grown bored with the concept of mere 'murder', ignoring the gasps of his offering, the poor boy's eyes watering as he felt something within his body heat up unbearably, a strange energy coursing through his small frame, filling his veins with fire even as his muscles tightened like iron chords.

Predictably, there was another flash of light, followed by a crack of thunder, the impact shaking the house while Ryuunosuke felt his hair stand on end from the sudden discharge, not unlike the time he'd get stung by the static from a thick carpet, the murderer looking on with gleeful anticipation as the wind died down, the soft chiming of a bell filling the air as a figure appeared in the enveloping haze, a tall, imposing figure that, for the briefest of moments, seemed to have no definite shape, only for the smoke to clear, taking with it most of Ryuunosuke's expectations.

'Is this it?' he wondered, staring at the figure before him, his disappointment palpable at the utter lack of originality 'I mean, he doesn't even have goat's feet or horns!'

True enough, the figure before him was entirely human shaped, although to be fair, there was no guarantee it was actually human considering he couldn't make out any defining features thanks to the thick leather duster coat, boots and gloves that adorned it's frame, though the fact the gloves ended in fingers implied at the very least it had human-like hands.

'Unless the gloves are just there to distract you and it actually had tentacles or claws hidden inside' he deduced, shivering in anticipation as he looked the figure over, noting with interest that it's face was hidden behind a thick leather collar and hat that kinda reminded him of that one werewolf movie he watched back in college.

The figure stirred, like a stature coming to life, raising its gloved hands to its face, clenching and unclenching the fingers, as if seeing them for the first time, causing the leather in the gloves to creak ominously in the darkened room before lowering them, a shiver of apprehension racing down Ryuunosuke's spine as he somehow knew the thing was looking at him.

"Uh, hi there." He greeted, scratching the back of his head awkwardly as the feeling of being stared at intensified at the sound of his voice "Nice to meet you, name's Uryuu Ryuunosuke. I'm a freelancer and my hobbies include Murder in general, preferably kids and young women though anyone will do really since I started going back to the basics again."

If the tall figure gave any indication it heard the murderer, it certainly didn't show it, though Ryuunosuke swore he felt a chill at the use of the word murderer, one that had only grown worse at the mention of his preferred targets.

"Uh, look, sorry to just come right out and say this, but are you actually a demon?" he asked, holding up the Grimoire he swiped from his family's storehouse "See, I found this book on summoning Devils and figured I'd ask for some pointers," he gestured to the room "Took me a while but I eventually pulled it off, even managed to save you a snack!"

He gestured to the kid, whose panicked cries intensified as the tall figure turned to look at him, tears streaming from his cheeks as he tried to crawl away despite the bindings effectively holding him down, the tall figure regarding the struggling youth silently for a moment before walking slowly towards the boy.

No, not walked, prowled, the soft footfalls of those thick leather boots sending shivers of anticipation up Ryuunosuke's spine, the murder looking on intently as the leather-clad figure advanced on his target, silent yet unstoppable, the murder noting that it seemed to be carrying a strange wooden pole across it's back.

Meanwhile the boy, as if realizing that any further resistance was useless, that his death was inevitable, simply closed his eyes and waited for the end to come. And come it did, but not in the manner Ryuunosuke was expecting, the aspiring murderer's anticipation reaching a fever pitch as the 'Demon' knelt beside the boy only to blink in confusion, a sentiment no doubt shared by the boy as it began undoing the bonds holding the kid down.

"Uh…Demon-san…?" Ryuunosuke called out hesitantly only to be ignored as the tall figure helped the boy sit up, one gloved hand resting on his shoulder as it apparently checked him over for wounds, only to ruffle his hair encouragingly "Aren't you going to eat him?"

Again the figure ignored him, instead choosing to scoop the trembling child into its arms, rising to its impressive height with the child clinging to its neck for dear life as it slowly turned on its heel and made for the door to the hallway.

"Um…excuse me…" Ryuunosuke called out, honestly more let-down than annoyed by the turn of events if he was honest with himself. After all, the being before him was a Demon from hell, who was to say they'd act the same way described in the various religious texts he'd been exposed to? For all he knew the Demon could be fond of children and simply wanted to play. On the other hand, that fondness could be decidedly more malicious and the intended play area probably involved a bedroom.

Not that Ryuunosuke cared mind you. Everyone had their own hobbies, and besides, it wouldn't make sense to hold a Demon up to the same levels of standards of humanity, especially since Ryuunosuke himself wasn't the perfect example of the term.

That being said, if the Demon wasn't going to kill the kid, then the least he could do is let Ryuunosuke finish him off. Not that he cared if the kid lived and exposed his identity to the world, while it would be a bummer to be dragged off by some old guy on a bicycle, it wasn't as if they'd make a kid testify and he'd been careful not to leave his fingerprints on anything.

No, it was for completely altruistic reasons that Ryuunosuke wanted the kid dead. After all, he had just murdered the kids entire family, so it wouldn't be fair, to both them and the kid, if he just let the little tyke go, the mental trauma alone could fuck him up.

That, and he really hated leaving a job unfinished. One of the reasons he hadn't given up after the first few failures at summoning, other than his honest curiosity, was that when it came to his hobby he liked to see things through to the end.

Besides, if this thing truly was a Demon, then it had to obey his orders as per the terms dictated by their contract, as listed in the book. While Ryuunosuke wasn't the kind of dick who'd use force to get people to do what he wanted, at the very least he could get the thing to listen to him.

"Hey, hold up…" he called out, not sternly admittedly, but then he figured it was better to be safe than sorry, one hand reaching out to grab the leather-clad Demon's shoulder. The next instant he was sent flying across the room, his eyes widening in shock as he gaped at the bundle of heavy ropes, no, the mass of massive tentacles that were burrowing into his guts, having seemingly erupted like a pack of snakes from the Demon's extended forearm as it turned to face him.

A part of him dimly noted the the kid trembling in the Demon's other arm, face buried in the shirt beneath the leather duster in terror. Personally, Ryuunosuke thought the whole thing was rather cool, in that detached manner one does as everything slows down around them and their life begins to flash before their eyes, the aspiring murderer's hand coming up to touch the growing crimson stain on his shirt where the largest tentacle had pierced right through his guts, a smile adorning his lips as he marveled at the pure, captivating red, that glistening, vivid, fundamental color that had driven him to end so many lives in search of, finally resting in his hands.

"I see…" he murmured, blood dripping from his lips as the tentacles vanished back to the ether from whence they came, allowing his broken body to collapse in a bloody heap, the murderer running his fingers almost lovingly through the bloody mess that at one point had been his own intestines "It's like the old saying goes: The darkest place is under the candlestick…"

Play: Bloodborne Main Theme...

Silence, broken only by the panicked sobs of the child, filled the room as his would be summoner passed away, his strange, almost wistful smile a subtle mockery to his killer, as if by killing him, they had finally given him what he'd always wanted.

But such thoughts were for another time. Right now, there was a child to comfort, a child whose pleas for safety, whose desire to escape this waking nightmare, had somehow managed to reach across the cosmos, across time and space itself, and penetrate the veil of The Dream to bring him here.

Of course it wasn't as if the child had done so alone. Even if he'd possessed Gehrman's old bell, it would not have been enough to penetrate the dream, not after the Moon Presence had fallen, not since mastery of the dream had changed hands in order to bring an end to the Plague of Beasts.

No, in order for the pleas of the child to have reached him, to have drawn his attention within the sanctity of The Dream, he would have needed an object of considerable arcane might, and it just so happened that such a device existed in this world, a chalice, a cup of the heavens that promised a single wish to the one to lay claim to it…or so it would like the participants to believe.

One did not ascend to the position of 'Great One' without gaining some insight into the true nature of the world, but even without his eyes on the inside, he was certain he'd have been doubtful of an Omnipotent Wish Granting Device even if it weren't being overseen by people with morals more questionable than the Choir, never mind the fact it had clearly been tainted by a blight not unlike the Plague of Beasts.

No, he would have nothing to do with this Cursed Chalice, not after witnessing the Hell that the unwitting Scholars of Byrgenwerth had unleashed when they uncovered the one later used to enter into communion with Ebrietas. Besides, what need had he of a wish? Even if he hadn't ascended above his mortal frame, did he not retain control of The Dream? What could a false chalice fashioned my man to reclaim their lost glories possibly offer one who had ascended past the stars and the boundaries of time itself?

Then again, it wasn't as if the true purpose of the ritual actually involved granting a wish, it was simply the means by which the Heroes could be summoned, not so much the beckoning chime of a bell as dangling a carrot from a stick and leading the horse to slaughter. All to reclaim something that had been lost due to the inherent stupidity of man.

It would seem that, regardless of time or space, Occult Scholars, or Magi as they seemed to refer to themselves here, and the agents of the Church continued to make mysterious bedfellows, though to give the Church credit, they only got involved to keep things from getting too out of hand.

And if you believed that for even a second, he had an entire city to sell you.

A sigh drew his attention to the figure held in his free arm, his features softening as he glanced down at the fiery red hair of the boy who had called to him, his face buried deep in his shirt, now stained wet with tears, his features slack, having apparently lost consciousness from the shock, the tangy scent of blood in the air tainted by the smell of urine emanating from his trousers.

It was only understandable really, from what he had surmised the corpse in the corner had apparently, for no reason other than curiosity, murdered the boys entire family right in front of him for the sole purpose of ensuring he had enough blood to summon a 'demon'.

'In the end, it always comes back to Blood.' He muttered, eyeing the circle on the floor with distaste.

Now, the man who killed his family had been slain by the 'Demon' he'd summoned not moments before & offered his tender flesh as a morsel.

In the end, it truly did always come back to Blood, and so he could hardly blame the boy for being terrified for his life. Indeed, he'd have questioned his sanity if he wasn't. But while it was true he'd killed more than his fair share of people in his time, some of them former comrades, others in clear self-defense, there was no reason for him to turn his fangs on one so young.

That being said, he could not leave the boy here. For one thing, by the laws of this farce of a ritual, he was a designated 'Master' despite his age, meaning he wouldn't be safe even if he was entrusted to the proper authorities.

For another, his negligence was already responsible for the deaths of two children, and he would be damned before he failed this boy as he had Gascoigne's daughters.

There was but one place he could take the boy where he was absolutely certain he would be safe. One impregnable fortress, cut off, yet still connected to the Dreaming World, where he could ensure his safety from the likes of Assassin and the machinations of the other Masters. One place where he can be absolutely certain the boy will be well cared for.

And so he knelt, surrounded once again by the scent of death and blood that had once tainted his dreams, his master clutched tight to his chest as he drew upon the hanging sigil in his mind, the world around him seeming to lose focus before vanishing into dust and fog, the bloodstained walls replaced by cool night air and gentle mists as he found himself once more in The Dream.

"Welcome Home, Good Hunter." The Doll called out, ever present, ever welcoming, her porcelain features, immovable as they were, somehow managing to convey the impression of a welcoming smile as she stood at the foot of the steps of the workshop, though it soon gave way to intrigue at the sight of the child "What is this?" she wondered, titling her head curiously to the side "Have you brought us a new Hunter?"

He did not answer, not verbally anyway, there was no need for such needless actions between them after he'd ascended The Hunt and laid claim to The Dream from the Moon Presence. The only reason she still persisted was because she knew the sound of her voice soothed him, as it had no doubt soothed Gehrman, back when the old man had been forced to host The Dream.

As it would no doubt sooth the mind of the child, having lost & witnessed so much within a single night due to the machinations of fools and the desires of a monster.

"Very well." She acknowledged, accepting the small figure from him, her deceptively delicate hands clutching him to her bosom almost instinctively, his head resting on her shoulder as she turned to climb the steps "I shall prepare a spot for him."

Offering a brief nod in response, he promptly turned on his heel, the world seeming to blur around him once more, the fog darkening gradually before giving way to a starry night, his eyes narrowing as he once again manifested within the Dreaming World, gazing out across the city below from atop the tallest structure.

At any other time, he would have marveled at the sight before him. An ocean of lights, as if the stars had been brought down from the heavens, extending as far as the human eye could see, broken only by several towering pillars of steel and glass that reached almost arrogantly for the sky.

As it were, however, he had no interest in the wonders of this world, not when he knew the truth that lay beneath the skin like a poisonous cancer sore. While he was loathe to compare himself to the Healing Church's fanatics, he could at least appreciate their dedication to preventing the spread of a plague, even if said 'preventative measures' involved killing off potential victims along with the infected.

There were six other Servants in this War. Each a legend made flesh, a Hero who had, in their own way, ascended their humanity to become something more. And backing these Legendary Heroes were their Masters, Magi who sought to lay claim to the heavenly cup, no doubt ignorant of the taint that had corrupted its very core for the past six decades, waiting for the chance to be unleashed on the world.

He would not allow that to happen. He would not allow a repeat of Yharnam, not permit another city to be devoured by forces beyond their mortal comprehension due to the actions of a delusional few who dared to presume to uncover the secrets of the universe. He would hunt down his fellow Servants, and bring an end to their hopeless dreams before they were broken by the truth, just as Gehrman had once intended for him.

A subtle shift in the air drew his attention to the docks, his eyes narrowing as he sensed the presence of a formidable foe, beckoning him not for aide, but for challenge.

Tonight, the residents of the Eastern City of Fuyuki would sleep easy, locked away safely behind closed doors and bolted windows. Tonight, those who would seek the Tainted Chalice o'er the corpses of the innocent & honourable would find themselves the target of a most deadly foe.

"Tonight…Servant Caster Joins The Hunt."

And that's as far as I'll go for now.

whether this one picks up or not, I leave to you guys.