A/N: Sneaky:Yeah so it turns out max can't write alone. That and I kinda got framed for plagiarization and kicked out of college. And other shit so yeah that was fun. Anyway, chapter.

Max: This is most definitely the last time we attempt to write a segmented chapter like this without consulting constantly. It ended horribly.

Chapter 5 Part 2: That part where Havel starts a club and they do things...let's call it..The Adventure Club, by happenstance that is also a weapon.

His eyes cracked open, or at least one did...the other felt...empty, as pain wracked his body. His armor was now stuffy, hot, the familiar and hated scent of sweat and blood mixing wafting from it. The stench of death hung in the air, as heavy and suffocating as every time before. Removing himself from the pool of gore was priority, but only one arm responded to his plan.. He looked towards his shoulder, seeing only the torn strips of skin and muscle where his arm used to be. 'Strange,' he thought to himself, too shocked to really feel fear or panic. 'My arm isn't supposed to be all the way over there.'

DREAM SEQUENCE! LINE BREAK!

Havel jerked awake, reaching for his right arm on reflex. He breathed a sigh of relief as skin met skin, flexing the fingers on his right hand, reassuring himself that it had only been a dream this time. He looked to his left, seeing his armor neatly piled beside him. The last thing he remembered was leading the Four Knights with Shard to Firelink and then seeing the ground rising to meet him as his vision began to black out. His arm gave a twinge, a quick spasm, then settled down, a reminder of the miracle he had used against Manus.

"You're awake, Havel," Gwyndolin said as he approached Havel, grabbing the man's attention. "You've been out for quite a few hours now."

"Yeah, well, throwing a Sunlight Spear can do that to a human," Havel snorted, shaking his head as he sat himself up. "Glad to have my sight back, at least." His arm gave another spasm, this time in the form of his hand involuntarily clenching.

Gwyndolin frowned, having seen the movement and Havel's brief annoyance at the muscles in his arm. "It was too powerful, wasn't it?" he asked, concern in his tone.

Havel shook his head. "No, no. If it was too powerful, I wouldn't be talking to you right now. It was just more powerful than anything I've had to use before now." Havel massaged the arm with his left hand, wincing slightly.

"Why isn't it healed? The Knights told me of what transpired when you and the young pyromancer left. Surely such an injury could be easily taken care of through use of your healing miracles." Gwyndolin seemed legitimately confused as to why Havel hadn't simply healed himself.

Havel gave another snort, this one more amused than the previous. "Because that's like cleaning water with more water. I can't just heal away rampant...whatever energy makes up miracles. If I had managed to injure myself, break something, even dismemberment, I could heal that. But healing damage caused by my own miracle isn't so easy," Havel explained. He slowly stood up, taking care to keep his right arm tucked close to his body. "As it stands, I still have control over my arm. There will just be moments where I'll lose control of it until the energy has completely dissipated."

"Morning, sir!" Artorias greeted jovially, walking up to Havel on the right.

Havel's right arm suddenly swung out, nailing Artorias in the gut, causing the tall knight to bend over, air vacating his lungs for the moment. "Yeah, kinda like that," Havel casually noted. "Sorry. Spasms."

Artorias simply nodded, taking air in with shallow breaths. "Perfectly...understandable," was the reply, breaths taken in between every other syllable. Artorias slowly walked away, moving to lean against a nearby wall.

"Sir Artorias, are you going to be okay?" Gwyndolin questioned, subtly edging away from Havel's right side.

Havel shrugged, answering for the wolf knight, "He's taken far worse in our training sessions. Hell, he still has both lungs this time, he'll be fine." Havel quickly changed the subject. "So, speaking of the young pyromancer who was with me, have you seen her?"

Gwyndolin shook his head, his outfit rustling slightly in the light breeze starting to kick up. "She left with that sorcerer. Logan, I believe his name was. Griggs was the last person she talked to before following after Logan. Unfortunately, I am unaware of the location they left for." A noise to the side had Havel turning his head to see a female in bronze knight armor, standing with her hand calmly placed on the butt of a short sword on her hip. "Ah, Havel. This is my knightess. I do not believe you two have met yet," Gwyndolin said, directing a simple gesture in the direction of the knightess.

"It is an honor, Bishop Havel," the knightess said, kneeling on a knee and bowing her head.

"Likewise," Havel said, inclining his head as he rolled his eyes at the formal behavior. Since when did people bow to bishops? "Thank you for taking care of Gwyndolin. I trust he wasn't too much of a brat in my absence?"

"Far from it, sir," the woman said, standing up. "My time serving milord has been fulfilling, to say the least."

"Might I know your name, then, knightess?"

"It is…" she trailed off.

"Is…?" Havel prompted.

"It is Luna, sir," she mumbled.

"I'm...I'm sorry, what?" Havel leaned in a bit closer.

"Luna. Sir," she ground out.

"Your name is Luna...and you work for the man who represents the moon…"

"Yes...sir. I have heard it many times before you," she replied.

"...It was Gwyndolin's idea, wasn't it?"

With a long suffering sigh, "Yes sir…"

"He never was very creative growing up," Havel mused, rubbing at his chin.

"Yes… sir…"

"I'm...standing right here, uncle," Gwyndolin chimed in, frowning at his uncle and knightess. "Anyways...I was hoping that you might be willing to come with me to Anor Londo. There is something I wish to retrieve from father's tomb. And you expressed a desire to see it yourself."

Havel nodded. "Alright. Let me just grab one of the knights to come with us. Ciaran would be good on this." Gwyndolin gave a nod of agreement. Havel walked over to the three of the Four Knights he had brought back with him, smiling at having more familiar faces at the shrine. "So," he started, catching their attention. "What do you think of Lordran's current state?"

"In all honesty, I rather dislike it," Ciaran spoke, frowning. Her mask lay by her, staring into the sky. "There is no true sense of time. Since we arrived here, the day turned to night and back in but a small span of time. It is disconcerting, to say the least."

"And 'twould be best if the state of the buildings and that of Anor Londo itself were left for another conversation," Gough chimed in. "The wall seems to have held well, but the same cannot be said for that of the surrounding town."

Havel nodded, in full agreement with his comrades. "And what say you, Artorias? Assuming you have caught your second wind, that is," Havel chuckled, patting the standing knight on the back.

Artorias joined Havel's little chuckle with one of his own. "I am in full agreement. I am saddened by the state of our land. But there is little that can be done by simply talking about it, sir," Artorias said, standing straight and proud. "I am eager to assist in any way possible, General Havel!" Havel glared at Artorias, who simply stared straight ahead. After a few beats, the two began to smile and laugh, their hands clasping in a vigorous shake.

"Then I shall make full use of your eagerness, soldier. You can rest assured of that." Havel released the hand, looking down to Ciaran. "Unfortunately for our wolf here, he is still injured and requires rest, until such a time as I deem him fit for duty. In the meantime, I need the help of a hornet for a quick jaunt into Anor Londo."

"And what good will an assassin do in that situation?" Ciaran asked, grabbing her mask as she stood up, sliding it on.

"You will be assisting in keeping Gwyndolin safe as we attempt to retrieve something important. It would be nice if he would actually tell me what it is, but this should be a fairly simple smash and grab if it comes down to that," Havel explained, turning around to walk back to Gwyndolin, Ciaran now in tow. "And Artorias, I'm serious. You need to rest for now. I only did a patchwork job on that arm. It's gonna need at least a day or two. Then we work on your muscles for a bit. Gough, if you have to sit on him to make him rest, then do so," Havel said over his shoulder as he walked away.

"Ha, good one, Havel," Artorias said with a short bark of laughter. It was when there was no reply that Artorias began to sweat a bit. "That...that was a joke, right? Gough, he was joking, right?"

"I don't believe he was," Gough answered.

ZIP ZAP BANG: Line BREAK!

The short elevator ride up was silent, the elevator itself a bit crowded with four beings inside. As they stepped off the elevator into the parish, Havel finally spoke up, raising an important point. "Gwyndolin, out of curiosity, how are we going to get back into the city? The entrance past Sen's Funhouse is blocked up," he said, looking at the god.

"To mortals, yes, it is blocked off," Gwyndolin explained, walking slightly ahead of his uncle, Ciaran darting ahead to secure a path, while Luna kept her hand on her sword, walking behind and to the right of Gwyndolin. "However, that way can be opened by a god. It was meant to be a last defense of sorts, when the Undead and Hollowed became a problem. Among other things."

"Let me guess. Revolt. Revolution. Coup d'etat, however else you wish to refer to it as." Gwyndolin's silence was answer enough for Havel, who sighed as a result. "Yeah. Go figure. Everything went to hell a few dozen times over. And I bet it has something to do with the First Flame, right?"

"Only partially, uncle. Humans are, by nature, horrible creatures. As you yourself witnessed in the years after the war in which you and my father fought to free humans. They are never truly satisfied with anything. Word of the First Flame fading and the Witch's experiment failing spread like, excuse me, wildfire. The news merely coincided with the mere fact that they desired a change in rulers." By this point, they were standing at the narrow bridge leading to the fortress. Ciaran waved from the other end, signaling all-clear. Havel taking point just in case, with Luna covering the rear.

"There were also rumors coming from New Londo of a new problem, the Darkwraiths. The Four Kings, whom my father had entrusted with but a minor shard of his soul, had been planning a revolution for some time. The First Flame dying gave them all they needed to rally more to their cause. And of course, there were the problems with our neighbors of Oolacile, who had cut off all contact. Artorias was sent to investigate both problems. Gough and Ciaran left of their own free will when he did not return for some months." Gwyndolin noted the fallen axes, commenting, "Your handiwork, uncle?"

Havel nodded. "No way in hell was I going to risk getting hit by one of those things. I'd like to keep my conversion to Undeath from happening for as long as possible," Havel answered. "Ciaran. Valkyrie and I cleared most of the things in here when we first came through. But check ahead, take care of anything that may have made its way here since. You are free to use whatever means necessary if they are resistant to reasoning and logic."

"Sir," Ciaran nodded, melting into the shadows in a corner. Thinking about it now, Havel realized that this place wasn't all that well lit, meaning there were plenty of shadows for Ciaran to move between.

"Continue, Gwyndolin," Havel said as he led the way across the bridges.

"Yes, of course," was the prince's reply, clearing his throat. "With all that was happening, on top of my sister's marriage to Flann, and my father leaving for the Kiln soon after, it fell to me to protect Anor Londo. Unfortunately, I was unsure of what to do and as such, created the illusions, which you broke, in an effort to calm the people. I left Ornstein and Smough with the task of protecting the illusion of my dear sister, while ensuring the golems would keep a silent vigil against invaders. The entrance was also blocked up, as you saw, and all humans, aside from my own knightess and any who swore fealty to me...were expelled from the fortress and the adjoining chapel." Gwyndolin sighed, his eyes falling to the ground for a beat. "Stuck behind the gate of fog, I did not realize just how many decades...nay, mayhaps even centuries passed. To me, it was but a short time. A handful of years, at best."

"Actually, that bit bothers me," Havel interrupted. "I understand your sense of time being a bit messed up. But what about Luna? Surely you would have noticed so much time passing."

"Time is not quite the same for those who are bound to the flames, Bishop Havel," Luna replied. "Just as time has distorted for all of Lordran, perhaps even the world, time has always been distorted for me since swearing fealty to milord. While years may pass for a normal human, but a span of weeks or months would pass for me. The mere fact that I am even able to be away from that accursed bonfire is thanks to milord allowing me to serve directly by his side once again."

"Ah. You have had a hard job, then. My apologies and condolences."

"And so, it was in that way that I kept a vigil over Anor Londo," Gwyndolin continued, ending his explanation with, "until you burst through the gate and decided to butt heads with me."

"Ha, good times," Havel laughed, resulting in another sigh from Gwyndolin, though this one somehow sounded a bit happier than his previous one. By now, they had reached the top, the trek through the fortress noticeably easier without axes, boulders, bombs, and hostiles slowing progress down. Ciaran was waiting on the platform, inspecting a rapier. "I guess you ran into a bit of trouble, then."

"It was only a minor nuisance, I assure you, sir," was Ciaran's answer as she gave the rapier a slight flourish, before attaching it to her hip. She was going to keep the sword for the time being.

"Job well done, Ciaran. Gwyndolin, if you would?" Havel gestured to the wall at the end of the platform. Gwyndolin walked ahead, the blocks seeming to melt away as he neared. Havel, Luna, and Ciaran fell into step behind him, torches lighting the path, while behind them the blocks reappeared. After a few minutes of silence and the dim lighting, they came out to see Anor Londo spread out before them, the setting sun making the scene a beautiful sight to see. "Right. So, we just have to head to the tomb, yes?"

"Yes. What I seek is there. And you made mention that you wished to see it for yourself," Gwyndolin affirmed, walking down the long stairs. The golems did not move, allowing for quick travel to the next elevator. After making their way down to the tomb, Gwyndolin led the way, stopping as they reached a chair, a scroll laying on top of it. Gwyndolin picked it up, holding it gently. "This is what I wished to retrieve. A miracle made by my older brother, faint as he is in my memories."

"Older brother?" Havel asked, frowning. He felt something trying to push through a fog in his mind, but it fell back soon after. Havel's frown persisted as he realized that his memory was failing him suddenly. "Gwyndolin, what is...I feel as though I am missing something in my memory."

"There was a son before my sister and myself. The firstborn son of Gwyn. He forsook his powers as a god, choosing instead to walk among the mortals. He left a miracle of his own behind, along with his power. I know not of where he went. His very existence was seemingly erased from history itself." Gwyndolin slowly unfurled the scroll, staring at it. "The only being that may remember him is father himself, but father left for the Kiln...centuries ago?"

Havel looked at the scroll over Gwyndolin's shoulder. "Quite a miracle," Havel marveled, reading through the chants and notes along the side. He reached for the scroll, Gwyndolin relinquishing it, staring at his uncle. Havel removed his helmet to get a better look at the scroll, putting it on the chair. He rubbed at his chin, muttering to himself as he studied the scroll more closely. "I did something like this...but far, far weaker…"

Ciaran sighed, taking a seat on the small set of stairs that led up to the chair. "I fear we may be here a bit longer than intended, Lord Gwyndolin," she said, resting her chin on a hand. "He may well decide to tear that miracle to pieces now. And that will take some time."

"How long do you suppose it will take?" Gwyndolin inquired.

"Well, if we give it about half an hour, we may be able to convince him to hold off on studying it further until we get back to Firelink Shrine, milord. We shall have to entertain ourselves until then." Ciaran pulled the rapier from her hip, studying its blade once again.

Gwyndolin looked to his knightess, who merely stared back, her head slightly inclined to the side. Gwyndolin sighed, taking a seat beside the assassin. "Perhaps I should have waited until we were on our way back, then," he noted, regretting not having the foresight to have seen this coming.

WITH A CRACK OF THUNDER A WILD LINE BREAK APPEARS

Hours later, the group of four was back at Firelink Shrine, after Gwyndolin and Ciaran had finally managed to convince Havel that it would be better to study the miracle in depth at the shrine, in relative comfort. He was currently sitting down by Anastacia's cage, the scroll unfurled in front of him, a quill and ink well to his right and papers, all three items provided by Domhnall, surrounding him. Anastacia watched with some interest from behind her bars, while Rickert and Griggs attempted to follow along with what Havel was doing, poorly.

After all, how often did a sorcerer, or anyone really, get to witness a miracle being deciphered?

"So, this phrase...wow...I wish I remembered more about this firstborn," Havel muttered, the quill meeting paper as he jotted down the phrase in question, underlining two of the six words. He made a small note under each of the underlined words, looking at the phrase with a critical eye. "This level of power is something else. Even the more experienced of us miracle crafters would have trouble following this line of thought."

"Um...Havel...sorry to interrupt your train of thought, but, uh, what's the significance in that phrase?" Rickert asked, Havel snapping momentarily out of his study.

"Oh. Rickert. Didn't notice you there. What did you say?"

Rickert pointed at the phrase. "What's so significant about this...gibberish? And the two words you underlined?"

"Ah. Interested in miracles, are you?" Havel's lip quirked a bit as he looked back down at the phrase, hunching a bit and making another noted under the phrase as a whole. "Well, this phrase is actually a pretty common booster of sorts for miracles. However, it's normally just the four words that aren't underlined."

"So, why the extra two, then? Wouldn't that...uh...disrupt the phrase or...something?"

"If you don't use it correctly, yes, it would mess up the intended power boost. But, the two words added actually help triple the boost." Havel put the quill back in the ink, picking up another piece of paper with only one word on it, holding it up to show the two sorcerers. "This one, here, is the starting word. It's the most important word, at the moment. And, of notable significance, it's actually a mash of three other words. It's what begins the chant, the calling and molding of power into sunlight." He grabbed another paper, this one holding three phrases, the last of which was the first phrase Rickert had inquired about. "This first phrase on this paper then channels that sunlight directly into lightning, while the second is a sort of command to calm the energy. The last one is the power booster."

"Okay, so...the miracle takes sunlight... and makes it into lightning for some reason?" Griggs asked, chiming in finally. "...What's that reason?"

"To coat a weapon," Havel replied, grabbing another piece of paper, showing them two more phrases. "These two phrases here are used to tell the lightning what the user wishes for and then finally allows the user to coat a weapon with the energy. Well, anything, actually. But I'm fairly certain that it's meant for combat, if the title 'Sunlight Blade' means anything."

"Okay. And how does this all work?"

"Dunno," Havel said with a shrug, putting the paper down. "Just know it does."

Rickert and Griggs looked at him, incredulous looks on their faces. "But...how do you know it'll work? Surely you must have…" gestured wildly at the pile of paper in front of him, "some idea of how it does all this!" Rickert exclaimed.

Havel shrugged. "I don't know how it works. Just that it does. I know what the individual words mean. I know how to string them together. I know how to use miracles without the chants even, since I've felt how the power moves. But I don't know how it works. And that's not even getting into the fact that this miracle should be far longer than this. But the creator took words and mixed them together, stringing these new words into new phrases. The only phrase here that I could recognize at first glance was that power booster." Havel looked back at the original miracle scroll. "Honestly, I'd never even considered taking words and smashing them together in the hopes of getting an even shorter trigger. That opens a whole new set of possibilities for miracle crafting."

The two shared a look, complete with minor twitches and head shakes, before turning back to Havel and declaring in synchronicity, "You are insane."

Havel raised an eyebrow at the two. "Coming from two sorcerers, I'll choose to take that as a compliment," he said, smirking. "Think what you will. But actual knowledge of the miracles themselves could just end up weakening their strength. Maybe. I dunno. I've never really given much thought to it."

The two sorcerers shared a commiserating look then Griggs stated, "We now both suddenly understand the...disdain the Archmages had for Miracle-workers. Havel, you are a shining example of fucking terrifying. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to try and reinforce this cliffside with some sorceries in case you feel the need to...experiment." He gave a thoughtful look, "Maybe I should move to the Parish. You know what, yes. Goodbye."

Rickert looked between the retreating Griggs and Havel, then gave chase after the leaving Griggs, "Wait! Don't leave me with him!"

Havel looked to Anastacia, who merely looked back at him. After a moment of silence, he shrugs his shoulders and looks back down at his current work. "Meh, if it works, it works, right?" he asked no one in particular, scratching out more notes.

I GOT NOTHING, IT'S A LINE BREAK NOT A COMEDY CLUB

Havel stretched his right arm, feeling the muscle underneath the skin. He clenched and unclenched the fist a few times, nodding in satisfaction. "That's feeling a lot better today," he said to himself. The rest of the shrine was asleep, bringing a sense of normalcy to the otherwise confusing stream that comprised Lordran's own sense of time. He walked over to where Artorias was laying down, nudging the knight with his foot. "Hey, Artorias. Up and at 'em. You're going to be coming with me today."

Artorias woke with a snort, sitting up with a yawn. "Morning, Havel," Artorias mumbled, rubbing at his eyes. "A mission for me?"

"Not really, no. I just wanted some company," Havel answered honestly. "I have a couple places to run to and having someone to talk to will help the time pass a bit more quickly."

Artorias nodded, coming further out of the fog of half-consciousness. "Just need a few minutes, then."

"Take what time you need to get ready." Havel walked off, moving to put on his armor as he waited for Artorias to finish with what few preparations he needed to make. Soon, Artorias and Havel were on the elevators up to the parish, Havel doing some more light stretching of his shoulders and neck. "So, today's itinerary; we're going to pick up and drop off some equipment, explore the remains of Oolacile's gardens, and then go check up on the brats."

"Sounds fun," the Wolf answered. His great sword was strapped to his back for the time being, while his own great shield was strapped to his left arm, feeling whole after having it returned by Havel. "Um...who are the brats?"

"You'll probably recognize them when you see them," was Havel's vague reply as the elevator reached the top of the shaft. They stepped out to see Griggs and Rickert lying on the pews, looking somewhat bored with themselves. "Well, hey there, boys. How have you been in the last...uh...two weeks? Something like that?"

"Oh, Havel!" Griggs said, sitting up. "How'd that...miracle stuff go?"

"It went well enough, I suppose. I actually managed to make a new version of Sunlight Blade! It can now coat weapons in the form of a bolt of lightning!" Havel was smiling under his helmet, still giddy at making successful use of the mixing of old words into new.

"Really?Wait..." Rickert asked, sitting up, his elbows resting on his knees as he slouched forward. "...Havel, how does that work indoors?"

"Uh...I don't know...I haven't tried it indoors yet." Havel pulled a short sword from his Dark Sign, his talisman already in hand. All four men watched, looking at the sword as they waited for something to happen. Suddenly, a bolt of lightning struck the blade of the sword, coating it in orange energy, the blade now crackling with energy. "Huh…" All four slowly craned their necks to look up to see a gray cloud now dissipating.

…What

"...What?" Griggs questioned.

"Nope. Fuck it. I'm done." Rickert got up and walked back to the elevators, ranting "I'm going back to my nice little cell and waiting for the world to make more sense."

"Havel…that… that isn't how clouds work," started Griggs.

"Well, tell that to the cloud!" Havel retorted, gesturing at the now gone cloud.

"Havel, I'm not going to explain to- I'm- THAT IS NOT HOW CLOUDS WORK!" Griggs pointed wildly at Havel. "You know what? I was accepting of Logan's insanity, because he is a great man. I endured Valkyrie's and for that matter every pyromancer's insanity, because they are not people you want agitated. You! You- Gah! The Archmages were not kidding, you miracle workers are in your own little universes!" He stormed off towards the elevators, "I'm going to join Rickert. Please, for the benefit of everyone's sanity and this little slice of Lordan: STOP."

As the two sorcerers descended down, Havel looked from the sword to the elevators and then to Artorias. "I feel like I'm now obligated to make a miracle that breaks as many laws of nature at once as I can...what are your thoughts, Artorias?" he asked, dispelling the miracle and dropping the shortsword back into his Dark Sign.

"I...sir, you...what?" Artorias finally spoke, still very much confused by the events that had just taken place.

"Alright, we'll just get back to that later. Come on, let's go." Havel walked straight on through the chapel, moving towards the tower beside it.

The pair soon reached Andre, who greeted Havel with a jovial, "Good to see you came back! Your pair is done, Havel." Andre pulled out a matching set of Dragon Bone Fists, setting them down on the anvil, smiling. "A beaut, these two are. Some of my finest work. Try them on!"

Havel grabbed one, putting it over his glove, surprised it fit so well over the bulky piece of armor. He felt a bar in the end of the weapon, grabbing it. The weight felt good on his fist, moving it up and down, twisting his wrist left and right. He grabbed the other one, going through some basic jabs and uppercuts, liking the feel of the weapons more and more. He nodded, storing them into his Dark Sign. "Good work, Andre," Havel commented, pulling out a thin glove and one of a handful of spare talismans from his Dark Sign, setting them down on the anvil. "Now, I've got a new project for you. How hard would it be for you to incorporate some talismans into different pieces of clothing and armor?"

Andre closed his eyes, his right hand stroking his beard in thought as he leaned back. "Mmm...shouldn't be all that hard. It all depends on the material, really. Sewing it into clothing wouldn't be hard at all. Trying to incorporate it into armor would be a bit more difficult, but I think I could get it done."

"Mind trying it with this glove? I need it to be thin enough to wear under my armor and to be somewhat breathable."

Andre opened his eyes, leaning forward over his knees to look at the thin materials. He nodded after a few seconds, grinning. "Sure thing. I haven't had a request like this before. No complaining if the materials end up useless, though."

"No complaining," Havel agreed. He stuck his hand out, Andre's much larger handing grabbing it and the two shook. "I look forward to seeing the results. How long do you think it would take you to do this first one?"

"Only an hour, maybe two. A rough prototype just to see what can be done with it. I'll have to find my sewing kit, though." Havel laughed, the laugh cutting short as Andre began to rummage through his chest, in search of the sewing kit. "Go on and find something else to do, unless you'd like to watch."

Havel opened his mouth, then closed it, shrugging. He led Artorias down the stairs, skirting around the, now cooled, remains of the rubble and titanite demon in the middle of the room. As they stepped out the door at the other end, Havel breathed in the air, noting that the sky appeared to be in the middle of night here. "Well, the right doesn't look like much going on, so left we shall go, Artorias," Havel said, moving toward the directions of the small little lights along a path overgrown with vines and foliage. The two came to an abrupt stop, by some unspoken agreement as they stared at their new foe. "Artorias...that bush is walking around, right?"

Artorias slowly nodded. "Yeah...yeah, it's walking...Havel?"

"Hm?"

"What the hell happened to Lordran?"

"Shit went down, Artorias. Bad shit." The two continued to watch the walking bush, sticks and leaves and bark making up its body, intertwining vines seeming to make up its arms and legs. With some interest, they watched it slowly feel its way around, apparently blind. "It's going to fall off that cliff…"

"Aaand it's falling." Without a sound, the creature disappeared from sight, falling down. There was the sound of something landing with a crunch and Havel felt a rush of souls flow into his Darksign. "We have to kill a couple hours in this...garden?"

"Give or take, yeah."

Artorias sighed, gesturing Havel forward. "Let's get going, then."

Unsurprisingly, Havel's new found pyromancy was extremely effective against the 'walking bushes', giving him some much needed practice with the art of fire. Artorias watched with some awe as the general wielded the same power as the Witch. After a few minutes time, they reached a set of stone doors, both tall and imposing, slightly cracked open. To the left of the door was an archway, a bonfire sitting just beyond it, on a cliff's edge. Havel pushed on the doors, revealing a forest of large, thick trees beyond. The final resting place of Oolacile, now reduced to a garden of walking bushes. As Havel walked down the stairs, Artorias behind him, they heard the sound of armor clanking, coming from their left. Looking over, they saw a transparent knight wielding a claymore, apparently a ghostly protector of the gardens. Or just some random schmuck wearing a Ring of Fog. Either or works here. Do they really just sit there all day waiting for, what? One, two, people?...like a month?

Artorias was the one to take this knight head-on, using his shield to parry the initial swing, his right arm, sword in hand, bearing down on the knight. The knight didn't last past the first hit. After all, Artorias had been a hero during the Dragon War for a reason. The rest of the walk to a narrow stone bridge was uneventful, the self-proclaimed protectors of the forest deciding to shy away from the two strangers. As they walked into the building just before the bridge, they were stopped by a gray cat purring at them. "Thou art new to these woods, strangers. What bringest thee? Hast thou come for the grave of Sir Artorias?" she asked, staring at those who would wear armor of ones she once knew.

Havel clapped Artorias' shoulder, "I lost a great soldier. I'm sorry for your loss, I'll pray for you."

Artorias looked at his mentor, glaring through the cloth. "I'm not dead, you know…"

"Thou hast not heard the fairy tale? Of how Sir Artorias struck a deal with the Abyss and was given passage of dark in exchange?" As the two shook their heads, the cat managed to shrug, yawning. "'Tis of no consequence, then. So long as thou do not harm the denizens of this garden, then thou shalt be given freedom to go where thou please." The cat laid her head on her paws, her eyes slowly closing, clearly dismissing the two.

Havel and Artorias shared a look, shrugging in silence and quietly moved out onto the stone bridge. "So, that was Alvina, right?" Havel asked as they walked towards the remains of the coliseum just over the hills, idly watching the very small mushrooms running about.

"I believe so, yes. She must be ancient by this point, though," Artorias replied, nodding. "I did not wish to believe it at first, but having now seen what remains of Oolacile, it is hard to deny that we are indeed far into the future. Very far." They reached another narrow bridge, this one leading right to the large open door of the coliseum. In front of it was a fog door, the fog roiling around in its invisible prison. "How far are we willing to explore this garden?"

"Through that gate, at the very least. Who knows? Might even be your grave." Artorias shuddered a bit at the thought, causing Havel to add in one last jab, "Though, we should gather some flowers first, it would be awfully disrespectful to not leave an offering."

In response, Artorias performed an ancient communication signal, better known as flipping the bird, and continued forward. It had been hard enough coming to terms with how far flung they were into the future. Now, he might have to deal with seeing his own grave. Perhaps even his own body, if grave robbers had gotten to it and simply decided it was easier to not bury his corpse once more. Artorias followed Havel through the fog, looking around the crumbled arena. In the center stood a large stone, rusted weapons lying around it. At the front of all of them was what appeared to be his sword, still in nearly pristine condition. He checked the sword on his back just to reassure himself if was still on his body. "This is...strange…"

Havel snorted, shaking his head. "Yeah. Imagine what it's like killing yourself."

"What?"

"You heard me the first time," Havel sighed, walking towards the apparent monument. He stopped to inspect some of the swords, clubs, and spears at the outer edge of the weapon graveyard, while Artorias walked past him.

As Artorias reached his hand towards the copy of his sword, a growl and flash of light alerted the two to the presence of others. A wolf bounded in front of Artorias, snarling at the knight, while Ornstein walked around from behind the monument, his spear crackling with pent up energy. "You would do wise to leave, strangers," Ornstein said, keeping his guard up. "My friend isn't a big fan of grave robbers."

"Sparky?" Havel asked, his head moving to look past Artorias.

"Wha- Havel?" Ornstein lowered his spear, surprised to see his old comrade once more. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Sif!" Artorias crowed in cheer, confusing the wolf just long enough for the knight to get in and begin lavishing care upon the canine. Before realization had even hit, Sif was rolling around, playing with the knight, quickly catching a whiff of Artorias, recognizing the man. "Oh, I've missed you, girl! You've gotten so big!" Indeed, the wolf was now up to Havel's waist, having stood guard for who knew how long over her master's grave. Sif began to assault Artorias with her tongue, excited that her believed to be dead master was before her once more.

"Ah, a boy and his wolf," Havel sighed, smiling. "Wait, Sif's a girl?"

Ornstein planted the butt of his spear into the ground, walking over to the knight and wolf. He took off his helmet, revealing short cut blonde hair, a scar from his forehead to his jaw, passing over his left eye. "Artorias, is that...is that really you?" he asked, his eyes wide. Artorias looked up, his mouth widening further behind the cloth of his helmet.

"Ornstein! You're here as well!" Artorias quickly stood up, grabbing the lion into a hug, laughing.

"Oh, okay, is it ignore Havel day? Because, I didn't get the memo. I'll just be over here. By the grave. Of Artorias..." Havel walked over to the grave looking down at Sif, "Sup?" He then bent down and started inspecting something he had noticed shining in the moonlight at its base. Curious, he picked up a thin greenish gold ring, a very small green stone embedded into it. He pocketed the ring into his Darksign for the time being, resolving to figure out what it was at a later time. He turned back, watching Sif bounce around Artorias, who was still laughing, his spirit now exceptionally high, while Ornstein was smiling, having earlier reluctantly resolved himself to living in a world where those he once knew were dead or forgotten. "Well, guess this is a good way to kill time," he mumbled, shrugging.

Some time later, after Artorias and Ornstein had finished catching up, the now quartet made their way back through the garden, Sif carrying the copy of Artorias' sword that apparently now belonged to her in her jaw. As they made their way back into Andre's home, Havel waved his three companions ahead as he stopped to talk shop with the blacksmith. "So, some good news," Andre started, holding up a single glove, the material thin and light. "I was able to make the material itself into a glove. It's a start."

Havel took off his right glove, taking the thin white glove from Andre and putting it on. "I don't even feel it on my hand," he noted, curling and uncurling his fingers. He slid his armored glove back on, looking at it from behind the safety of his helmet.

"Rather thin material you left me to work with, so no surprise on that front," the blacksmith explained.

"Wait...how did you know my hand's measurements?"

Andre gave a sly grin and shrugged,"Lucky guess."

"Uh-huh. Okay." Havel stepped away, pulling a dagger from his Darksign. A bolt of lightning struck the dagger, coating the weapon. Havel smiled under his helmet, nodding to himself. "Oh, I like this. Why did I never think of this before?"

"Now, I did take the time to enhance it just a wee bit with some titanite shards I had lying around, so it should last quite a while, in and out of combat." Andre watched Havel swiping the dagger back and forth. "Relatively simple process, well for me that is," he laughed before huffing in annoyance, "but I'm going to need some more time to try and do the same with actual armor. Good news is I can guarantee it'll last longer, at the very least."

"Take as long as you need, Andre. And as many souls as you need, too." Havel pulled out a rather large soul, handing it over to Andre, who frowned as he inspected the soul

Shaking his head, "That's far too much there, Havel, I couldn't accept that."

"Think of it as an investment. I'll leave the material for the talismans as well. Gods know I have plenty to spare, both souls and cloth." Havel dropped the soul onto the anvil, pulling a large wad of cloth from his Darksign to deposit beside the soul. "If you have any way of sending messages out or you ever feel like getting some fresh air to give me news, we've set up a community of sorts at the Firelink Shrine. Are you familiar with it?"

He nodded, now inspecting the cloth, "Aye, 'twas one of the first sights I set my eyes upon when I came to this land."

"Alright, then. Oh. Don't be shy about making more of the talismans into gloves by themselves. Having a nice supply of those will more than make up for any armor issues." Havel walked up the stairs, hearing Andre grunt an affirmative.

At the top, he met back with Ornstein, Artorias, and Sif and they began the short trip back to Firelink Shrine. "Alright, let's go Artorias, still have one more place to visit before we call it a day. Have fun catching up with the others, Sparky." Havel didn't even slow down, simply giving Ornstein a light push in the general direction of Ciaran and Gough. Artorias, who had slowed down momentarily expecting a quick rest, had to quickly jog to catch up with Havel, Sif trotting along beside him.

"So, we're going to meet the, uh, brats, was it?" Artorias asked as they waited for another elevator to arrive, this one below the shrine. "And this requires us to go down this time."

"Yep." Havel stepped onto the elevator, hitting the large button in the center. "Just want to check up on them and a pyromancer with them. And I guess Lautrec." He shrugged, "Honestly, I'm kind of hoping he managed to fall in something deadly by this point. Maybe some lava."

"You do not think very highly of this Lautrec fellow, then." Artorias saw Havel's helmet swivel just oh so slightly to stare at the wolf knight.

"He killed a firekeeper, Artorias. I know not his reason, but the poor girl had suffered plenty before then. If he believed it to be an act of mercy, then it was a foolish belief. The only good to have come out of that incident was her tongue and legs being healed."

Artorias sighed and rubbed the back of his head,"Yet many would have done the same, believing death to be a better fate than her current one."

Havel gave a snort. He had butted heads with various people on such matters before and would continue to do so long into the future, should there still be a future. By this point, they had already gotten past the Valley of Drakes and were approaching the cliff of the swamp. Things were looking much better, after the cleansing fire Quelana and Valkyrie had accidentally unleashed. Everything that had originally tried to kill Havel and Valkyrie was now gone and wouldn't be coming back anytime soon, while the water itself appeared to still be clean.

"So, how do we get down?" Artorias asked, his foot near the ledge as he leaned over to look. "There appear to be some handholds here."

"Yep," Havel replied, moving to begin the climb down.

"You...aren't surprised by this."

"Nope."

Artorias started climbing down, thinking for a moment. "...You made these, didn't you…?"

He sniffed and pointedly looking away from Artorias, "...Maybe..."

At the bottom of the cliff, the two looked at the crystal clear water, sands, and crumbling columns. It was a marked improvement over the rancid waters of before. Havel led the way, the armored men wading through the water to the domain of Quelaag. Artorias took note of the webbing, but made no comment as Havel continued on, ignoring it. Eventually, Havel led Artorias through a small passage, which opened into a circular room. Artorias stopped in shock when he recognized Quelaan against the wall. Lautrec sat off to the side, his arms crossed. The steady rise and fall of his shoulders and the droop of his helmet suggested he was asleep. Havel put a finger to his helmet, signaling Artorias to stay quiet. He led him back out of the room, turning to the right to go out onto a ledge overlooking lava in all directions. In the far distance, there were small brown specks moving around. Further down an outcropping from the ledge was a larger expanse of rock, on which stood Laurentius, Quelaag, and Quelana. Who appeared to be having a fireball measuring contest.

"Come on, then," Havel grunted, walking down towards them. "Hey, guys!"

The three pyromancers had obviously not heard them coming as Laurentius was startled out of the creation of a mildly large fireball, the two witches humoring him in the contest, which promptly exploded in his face, and well, the rest of his body. Being on fire, Laurentius proceeded to have the proper reaction to such, which was to panic and flail about. Quelana's quick attempted to smother him with the only object available, herself, put out some of the fire but just ended with them both being on somewhat fire.

Quelaag pinched her nose and turned to Havel, "Hello Havel, is there something I can help you with? My sister is..." she drifted off as she looked at the two morons rolling around trying to put the stubborn fires out, "...indisposed at the moment."

"Nah, not much. Just came to check on you kids. Make sure Lautrec was doing his job. Laurentius made it here okay." He waved his hand back and forth, "That kind of stuff."

"Ah. Well, the knight you sent has managed to assist in easing Quelaan's pain. It is sadly not by much, but...it is better than nothing, I suppose. Even if he is...unsettling." She then turned to face Artorias, looking him up and down. "Is that Sir Artorias with you?"

"Uuuhh…" came Artorias's intelligent reply. Havel's elbow in the ribs garnered a quick yelp. "Yes, it's...it's Artorias...me...you…" Artorias blinked, trying to find words. "You grew up?"

She remained unamused, "Yes, I have 'grown up', if you count the spider half. Otherwise, no, I haven't."

"You've, uh...you've got a new...spider?"

"She pukes lava!" Laurentius exclaimed excitedly, "We aren't exactly sure where all the lava comes from or why it doesn't harden instead of disappear, but yeah. Lava puking." He finished with a solemn nod.

Quelaag looked down at him, raised him in the air, hanging onto the leg like it was a ledge, she shook him off. "Aren't you supposed to be on fire?"

He shrugged, "I got better."

An indignant cry of, "That's my shtick," was ignored.

Quelaag sighed, shaking her head as Quelana joined the group. "Well, I believe that is enough for now," Quelana said, brushing a bit of soot off of her arm. "Shall we get back to Quelaan?"

Shortly thereafter, they were gathered back in the circular room, the space noticeably smaller with so many occupants now. Lautrec woke from his slumber, getting up and walking out of the passage, a passing nod at Havel on his way out. "Has he done anything aside from what he was ordered to?" Havel asked as the new occupants made themselves comfortable.

"He's done naught but heal and grunt. I'm rather worried he may be stunted a bit," Quelana answered, her hood pulled down for the time being. "I don't believe he's answered with anything more than four syllables. And that was just him telling us you sent him. Everything else has been a one or two syllabic answer."

Laurentius shrugged, "He is kind of a dick. But he doesn't say much, so he is easy to ignore..." He scratched his chin, "Though Eingyi and I do have to remind him from time to time that his armor won't stop lava...or clouds of toxic waste." He furrowed his brow, "Now that I think about it, not much stops lava or clouds of toxic waste."

"So long as that's all he's done, I suppose I won't toss him into that lava, then," Havel sighed, internally relieved the knight had tried nothing but what he was ordered to do. They all sat in silence for a bit, appreciating the quiet. The quiet was all too soon interrupted by the sound of stone grinding on stone. Havel looked at the second passage in the room, which lead to a dead end of solid stone. He walked over to it, the others looking at him in curiosity. Artorias followed behind him, sword being slowly drawn to the ready. The other occupants had apparently not heard the grinding sound. Havel listened, hearing the sound of footsteps on the other side of the wall.

WHAT'S THIS, A POV SWITCH? NO! A LINE BREAK!(ALSO A POV SWITCH)

Kirk counted up his spoils for the day, figuring he had managed a tidy sum of humanity sprites for The Fair Lady. With this much, she'd be good for a short time. Enough for him to take a short break. As the elevator came to a stop, he walked towards the wall, lost in thought. Perhaps he'd be blessed with hearing her today. To but hear her voice would be reward enough. He hadn't heard it yet, but surely it was only a matter of time. All the Humanities he had painstakingly gathered must be healing her. He stopped at the wall, doubt creeping in. It was a common thought these days. That he wasn't helping her. Merely delaying the inevitable. Perhaps even worsening her suffering. He shook his head, he was helping her. You couldn't hurt someone by helping them, could you?

CRUNCH

These thoughts were interrupted by a fist crashing through the stone, grabbing onto Kirk's helmet. His eyes widened, the only words he could get out in time went along the lines of "Meep." then the hand suddenly slammed him into the stone a few times, eventually breaking completely through. Between the fingers, he saw the man in rock armor he had failed to kill earlier. He grit his teeth, grabbing for his sword. This action was stopped by the back of his head slamming into the hard rock floor. His hand lost its grip on the sword, his eyes blinking as his mind tried to process what was happening right now.

"Uggh, hello-" he coughed, "-hello stone face. Can't- can't say I am enjoying our reunion."

"Bramble bush. For your sake, you better be passing through," was the reply.

"Oh certainly," he attempted a nod and failed, "if you mean passing my sword through you."

A large slab of metal with an edge was now pressed against his neck. He followed the sword to its owner, seeing a tall, well built man in the armor of Artorias holding it. "That would very much be unadvisable, thorned knight," came the rumbling reply.

"Oooohhh~ Tall, dark, and spooky. I'm trembling in me thorns." The man raised the blade a bit, angling it for a plunge, "Scared! Yes! I'm thoroughly intimidated by your overcompensating sword!"

"Havel, can I kill him now?" asked the man with the sword.

"Hang on, Artorias." Havel picked him up off the ground, slamming his back into the wall.

"He is right you know, it does seem a bit...overcompensating-y. " Chimed in Laurentius.

"Not helping, Laurentius!" Havel called back, nodding to Artorias. "Okay, now you can kill him."

"Hey hey hey! Hold on now! If you kill me I'll die!" He saw them pause for a second so he continued, "Besides! Fire Hobo over there agreed with me so I can't be all bad!"

Laurentius sputtered, "Fire Hobo! I do n-" he looked down at his mildly burnt raggy outfit."...okay, I will concede that my clothes have seen better days."

"Havel, please, hold a moment!" Quelaag intervened, moving to get a better view of the passage. "Ah, Knight Kirk. You are back."

"Ah! Lady Quelaag! You know Rocky here? Could you please tell him to tone down the whole 'Golem Smash' skit? It's getting, uncomfortable in...places." He begged.

"I supposed you could think of him as my...uncle. I cannot tell him to do anything. You may have to apologize to him for whatever slight you have caused."

"Apologize! Uncle! That-...okay that actually makes a lot of sense. But Apologize! The horror! All's fair in murder and theft, besides he tried to kill me back!" Havel tightened his grip a bit. "Right, right! I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry your armor was too broken to slip a dagger through!"

Havel stared at him. "Artorias," he said, the wolf knight pulling his arm back for the plunge.

"Alright, alright! Hey now! No need for murder, right? Nobody died last time, nobody dies this time, yeah?" he gasped out, still trying to pry Havel's hand from his neck.

"Tell you what, Kirk. I'll give you one chance. All you have to do is give me one very good reason to not let Artorias here have his sword make love with your neck."

"...I'm not sword sexual?" He saw Artorias raise his sword again, "I Uh! I have Humanities? For Uh, The Fair Lady?"

Havel looked back at Quelaag. "The Chaos Covenant's title for Quelaan," she supplied.

Havel looked back to Kirk, staring at him. Eventually, he grunted to Artorias, who lowered his sword, while Havel's fingers let go of Kirk, letting the man fall onto his feet. "Quelaan has a covenant…" Havel scratched at his helmet. "She has a covenant...I'm...I'm actually kind of impressed and proud."

Kirk pushed himself up after catching his breath and went to brush himself of, only to stop and remind himself that it was still a bad idea to do so. He gasped again and his hands went to his throat and helmet, "Oh no! You bent them you inglorious brute! This will take days to fix!"

"If it's any consolation, the thorns drew blood before they bent," Havel said, holding up his hand to show a single trickle of blood.

"Hrmph, well I certainly hope so. They were enchanted by a master after all." He puffed his chest out with pride, not that could really see it." I will likely have to search for him again, hopefully he remains in Lordran. Do tell me if you stumble upon a bumbling fool with an absurdly large hat, can you accomplish that at least you knuckledragger?"

"...Logan?"

"Lo-who?" he said surprised, "You mean the idiot hasn't gotten himself captured and dragged off to a prison yet? Again?"

"Last I saw him was...well, actually, I was passed out. But he's with Valkyrie. The female pyro you met earlier, when you ambushed me."

"Ah yes! The fire wench. The one who interrupted my spectacular verbal jousting and your piss poor attempts to keep up." He nodded.

Havel sighed, shaking his head. "Just...go give Quelaan the Humanity you claim to have."

He cleared his throat, having forgotten about that, "Right. Well uh..I suppose this would be the best time to ask. Does anyone actually know how to give someone Humanities? I've uh..kinda just been shoving them into her…"

At Quelaag's nose pinch that accompanied her growing headache and Quelana's drawn sigh, he figured he was doing it wrong.

LINE BREAK!

A/N: Sneaky:So..yeah! This is a thing. A majority of this was written over a period of fucking forever. As always, I played the part of Kirk and the Pyromancers, and the line breaks, and the humanization of conversation. Onto the Omakes I guess? Regardless, next chapter is going to have a massive fight scene so Huzzah!

Omake

Mushroom people

"So...why are there so many walking mushrooms around here?" Artorias asked as they made their way to the remains of the colosseum of Oolacile.

"I...I don't know, actually," Havel replied, thinking on it. "Maybe they're descendants of Elizabeth."

"Who?"

"Uh...nothing…" The two continued on in silence for a bit. "You know, they are kinda cute. Small and adorable."

"I suppose so," Artorias nodded, bending down as one came close to them. It quickly scurried off, making a high pitched squeaking sound, leaving Artorias to chuckle.

Then they heard Ominous chanting drifting through the air.

Mush~room Pe~pole, Mush~room Pe~pole. Look like Mush~room, hit like dump truck. But one without fully-loaded kind.

WHAM

"Havel..sir...are you okay?" Havel groaned from his new home in the cliff wall. "I'll just...find something to pry you out of there, then." He got a groan in response. Artorias glanced at the Large Mushroom standing there with fist still extended, slowly lowering it. It turned to look at him. "Maybe...Maybe later." Havel groaned.

Redbull gives Sif wings

"Hey, girl, what have you got there?" Havel asked, noticing Sif with a blue and silvery cylinder in her mouth. She trotted over to him, wagging her tail. Havel held his hand out, gently pulling it from her, as she sat down, tongue hanging out. Havel looked at the object, noting a red bull on the front. "Huh…" He noticed what looked like a tab of some sort on what must be the top. He gave it a pull, the object hissing at him, surprising him enough to make him drop it. Liquid spilled out, Sif immediately going to lap at it. Havel shook his head. "A container to hold liquid. Where in the name of the gods did you manage to find something like that?" Sif gave him a bark, having finished the liquid. Havel blinked, then blinked again in shock. Sif now had wings sprouting from her back.

Stick always wins

"But how do we beat it?" questioned Artorias.

"I'm...I'm not sure. Maybe we could...poison it?"supplied Ciarn.

"Hrmm, I'm not sure how that would work. It doesn't appear to have blood...or a need for it," drawled Gough.

"Of course it wouldn't work! It would just be laced in poison then! That's like...twice as bad! Clearly we need to electrify it and turn it to ash," Ornstein exclaimed.

"No, you fool! Then it would be ash! Ash that could get into your lungs and kill you! It would still win!" Artorias admonished. He continued, "It could even fertilize the ground, and it might even…" He gulped. "Grow more!"

"What the hell are you four doing?" Havel asked, walking up to the group.

"You can't beat stick Havel! It's impossible," Artorias told him.

"It true, no matter what we think of stick still wins," Ciran added, with Gough and Ornstein nodding along.

Havel looked at them, desperately fighting the instinct to facepalm. He calmly picked up the stick, inspecting it from all angles. "This stick here?"

Artorias nodded, "Yes, that stick there."

"What about breaking it?"

"No, Boss! That just..." He shivered, "...gets you two stick!"

"Burn it?"

"Same problem with electricity, stick turns to ash and gets in lungs. We die, stick still wins." Ornstein shook his head sadly.

"...Bury it?"

"Many plants can replicate themselves when parts of themselves are broken off and replanted," Ciaran supplied, "There is a high chance it grows into a tree and makes even more stick."

Havel looked between his knights and the stick. He then gave a whistle. "Here, Sif! Here, girl!" Sif came bounding over, as Havel began to wave the stick back and forth. "Want the stick, girl?! Want the stick?!" Sif bounded around, barking for Havel to throw the stick. Havel obliged, throwing it to the other side of the shrine. "There. We'll leave it to the stick's natural enemy. Man's best friend."

Artorias frowned, "Sir, if my dog dies...I will be extremely unhappy."

"Noted."