Kiln of the First Flame

As Gwyn's empty vessel gave a haunting cry through the scorched walls and the ash beneath their feet, the Chosen Undead, equipped with the corrupted blade that once was held by Artorias himself, plunged at the old god of Sun, now reduced to a mere lord of Cinder and nothing more.

How the gods had fallen out of their once prime and grace, to now being nothing more than what the hollow in front of him was. His power, his kingdom and his old allies, gone as the sands of time have taken everything from him, but his son that remained at Anor Londo, keeping the illusion up to fool everyone that the sun still stood up, a lie to everyone.

The Chosen Undead knew of his existence and even made contact with the young deity, but never decided to intrude the chamber of the darkmoon leader. He did not serve him anymore, but that didn't meant that he left without a souvenir, for he was grated the miracle of the covenant. One that he rarely used out of spite, after knowing the trick behind Gwyndolin, masking the truth from everyone.

The once mighty god, fell to his knees as the knight took back his blade embedded in the opponents torso, before taking kicking the god away and taking a quick step back, weapon raised against this fool of a dying ember. His armor, weathered down from time and usage and fights, sported the same outfit as the first hollow that had saved him from imprisonment, the same armor that Oscar wore before succumbing to his injuries, the Elite Knight that believed until the very end.

Even if the hollow that stood at the Kiln did not believe in the duty that the knight held, he would make it come true as a means to carry his will until the end. His name will not be forgotten, his efforts not in vain, his might recognized.

Stumbling back to his feet, Gwyn lunged forward with his blade swinging a large arc, reacting quickly the Chosen Undead raised his left hand and a shield manifested in front of him with an eerie feeling. Despite what others would believe, he was not as honorable of hollow as others would believe, making contact with the dark wraiths and engaging in invading other hollows, stealing their humanity for himself, making sure that he would stay sane in this desolate land.

The dark shield took the attack straight on and as the old god attempted a second swing, the hollows hand swung to the side with the shield still on, redirecting the attack without effort of his behalf. Grabbing his sword with both his hands, he plunged it towards the deities torso once more, running forward before shoulder bashing him, releasing his blade before applying a giant leap forward, slashing with all his might as he did a frontal flip and brought his blade down, making his opponent sink onto the floor.

Not missing a beat, he took the blade sideways and spin in place to his left, attacking his opponent as he stood back up, fatally injuring him. Stumbling backwards and his knees threatening to fall over, the hollow walked forward and kicked Gwyn down with no emotions on his face, as he stabbed his foot and the deities hole from prior.

Countless people that were tricked and robbed of their dark age, because this foolish god was afraid of change, so to prolong the inevitable, he burnt himself up, sacrificed so many of his silver knights only to become black from the erupting flame, left his daughter to the hands of another god, cast away his firstborn and even locking away sickly people that had nowhere to go, even waging war against one of his companions because the creation of demons threatened the status quo.

Despite all of these things, the Chosen Undead did not mind, for it held no meaning to hold a grudge against the god, he only was afraid of the unknown, as everyone is, but to confine oneself and set a lie to everyone that he knew, was enough for his old undead blood to surge to action.

First it was Solaire that was delusional on finding his own sun, only for him to take solace on a bug that was attached to his face, because he respected the lord of cinders Gwyn to such lengths. Then it was the fire keepers, that their duty would be to live and die for the bonfires that all undead needed for a small respite before continuing their trek to another hellish day. After that, it was only a matter of letting the populace know of his achievements and lying directly at their core.

Even though he was able to defeat the dragons and seize their age of ancients, it meant very little to how much grieve and lost he inflicted to everyone.

Without a single word and postponing it any longer, the Chosen Undead rose his blade and plunged at the old gods heart. Fumbling around his impending doom, the lord of cinder rose his right hand and attempted to grab the knight with flame on his palm desperately. Grabbing a talisman from his pouch, the knight rose his left hand and a spear of lightening materialized with a brilliance of the sun itself from the talisman on his palm. He didn't need to take aim and simply plunged the electric spear down on his opponent at point blank.

It took but a moment and a scream of nothingness to make the old god to finally disappear from the knights sight. The kiln was empty,devoid of life except for himself. The bonfire awaited for someone to fuel it the energy that it needed for another hundred, maybe another thousand years worth of flame. Though that was the intended purpose, the knight only glared at the flickering flame.

He had a choice now. To link the fire for the curse to be gone for a few more centuries or to leave it be and walk away, letting another poor hollow to come and try his or her luck into linking the flame. In the end, they either die from the bursting of light or live on to be it's next protector. To let the land to spread the thinnest of it's influence of the age of fire or to allow the age of dark to take control as the serpent informed him.

Fate was a cruel thing, for his decision will dictate the world itself. A descendant of the furtive pygmy and the fleeting hope of the hollows, born to either destroy it or let it live. Though, there was one problem with him.

The chosen undead did not want to choose either. He'd rather let it all go and let someone else decide for him. He had fought long enough to want to leave everything behind, yet he was forced to decide. Forced to become the beacon to each faction, just as the residents of Oolacile had forced Manus, father of the abyss. The outcome afterwards was beyond anything the hollow has ever seen.

Not wanting to decide just yet, the undead that survived against all odds and challenges simply sat down in front of the bonfire, wanting just to rest his weary body and mind. His spirit was drained from the countless encounters and difficult foes that has pushed him past his limits again and again, even against the lord of cinder himself.

His decision was made from the point where he saw the towering form of that crossbreed. Even if she was safe in that painting that housed her presence and the rest of the abominations, the world would find a way to find her and slay her, either for her strength or for a show of dominance. After all, hollows, no humans, were a very sinful race.

The flame continued to flicker, it's time running out second by second, but there was no rush. For the knight will sacrifice himself, not because of the gods, not because of this age or spite to the next one, not even for others that have asked him to do so, but because he was tired of all of it.

His mind spent and soul exhausted, yet his scarred body still had enough strength to carry him. Perhaps he thought that when he would burn up, his body would be a fine vessel for the fire to control it, while his conscious fades away in the midst of the chaos.

As his right hand rose and hovered over the bonfire, it lightened itself up as the flames touched his arm and slowly started to burn him from body part to body part. As he was being incinerated from the first flame, no pain rose from it, he only felt relief from his burden to be released, he clutched his hands, bawling them into fists and for the first time in what seemed an eternity, he released a silent scream, making the flame erupt all around the kiln and in the middle of it all, was the worn out warrior, brightly glowing a magnificent yellow before his body was disappeared and all that remained of him was ash for the next in line. Not even his name was left behind, nor his old allies that were slain by him, only a ballad with no name.

The nameless song was born from a nameless hero in his selfish sacrifice, sung only by the only person to survive and remember him. The fire keeper from Firelink shrine that was returned to life by him, remained to guide other hollows that would come years after his departure before her timely demise, but even stories and songs would be lost in the ages and his decision would be forgotten as well.

Throne of Want

As Nashandra is banished to the clutches of death, the fragment of Manus dissipates leaving behind only her fragmented and corrupted soul for the Monarch to claim. Before him, stood the throne so close and closed. He had been led for a long time by the Emerald Herald, guiding him towards the tomb of King Vendrick, warning about the queen's elusive words and even asking for him to link the fire, yet there was something that he knew more than any hollow that has ever passed through these doors, more than any monarch before him.

And that involved the kiln in front of him. From conversations with Aldia, scholar of the first sin and from searching for clues, he has learned that to renounce the flame or to accept it were not two options, but one in the same. It mattered not his choice, for he had figured out the cycle, his eyes were open to the truth and that set his heart to cold.

His mind, open to the discoveries he had made and taking all the conversations he had with the people that he could consider his allies, held the answer to his choice. He would renounce the flame, for some other monarch will take the throne and the cycle would repeat yet again. It didn't matter to a hollow, but he was different, the Monarch has found a way to slip out of the cycle, though he didn't find a cure to his fate, he found an escape from it.

He had made his journey towards all the other monarchs that ruled their own land, the kings of kingdoms long distant and filled with tragedy. The first was the king of Vendrick, where he had slain the giant hollow as a way to release him from his fate, before tracing back his steps and acquiring his crown.

The second was on the blight of Shulva, where he had slain another fragment of Manus, Elana, before he made his way towards the ever present poison and slumbering dragon, Sinh. A lance impaled in the winged menace, releasing his toxins from his chest. After it's defeat, the monarch found nearby the crown of the sunken king, carrying a warmth and lingering power.

The third was on the soot and ash filled land of the old iron king, situated in Brume Tower. Towering and long chains bound the land and creation of iron soldiers, where flame and iron were used to ward away trespassers and scavengers. Though what set it apart from others, was another lingering soul of another fragment of Manus, Nadalia the idol of ash that kept anyone at bay and awaited her king, that would never return to his land ever again. Through the treacherous path, the Monarch found himself face to face against the Fume Knight, once a knight of King Vendrick, now a guardian to a queen that no longer has the strength to guide him. Once the mighty warrior fell, the crown was on the idols hands, almost caressing it with care, awaiting for her king to return. The Monarch took the crown, took the soul of the knight and took the last of the fragments of her soul before leaving.

His next destination laid on the outskirts of everything, surrounded by a freezing mist and even colder feeling, stood the great wall of Eleum Loyce. Surrounded by snow and ice, it's residents now changed due to prolonged exposure of the weather and cast away any semblance of fire. For this city was a way to fight back the growing Chaos in the heart of the city, the only sane resident was yet another fragment of Manus, yet this one had no intention to fight or to show hostility. In fact, she held fear, a dreaded one in fact. She informed the Monarch about her husband and king that had plunged himself against the seething fire beneath them and how she remained in the kingdom in hopes to continue her lords wishes and contain the fire that took her beloved away.

During his journey across the lands, this was the first time where the fragments did not engaged in ruthless violence of power and claim it, but to support the ruler instead as he had showed her kindness and patience. Not wanting to thread lightly against a mighty foe like the chaotic flame, he heeded the queen of the lands words and successfully scout out the remained, unaffected soldiers of Eleum Loyce, their knights awaiting for the day where they would plunge themselves into the flame to rescue and avenge their brothers and king.

Once they threw themselves into the monsters gullet, they immediately started their battle against the waves of corrupted and charred brothers, utilizing their newfound flames against the ice bearing old warriors. A grueling battle was partaken, and for the first time in the Monarchs journey, he had to keep a watchful eye on both his opponents and the soldiers that came with him, to ensure that their chances of success would increase.

Though three of the four soldiers that had came with him started to glow an ethereal light, filled with coldness and plunged themselves into the doors that his brethren came, halting their excessive assault against them and only one soldier remained with the Monarch as a massive door rose from the molten magma that seeped through the roots of an everlasting tree that hanged above them. From the farthest end of the platform that they had stood, two pillars projected themselves upwards and opened a dark portal, where the Ivory King, now burnt from years in the Chaos, walked forward, brandishing his great sword against the intruder and his once loyal knight.

The fight was truly a test of might, for the king had the strength of a thousand soldiers and a sword that could extend to a very large reach. He was the famed warrior and king that always went straight ahead of battle, make it for his people or for his kingdom. What seemed hours were mere minutes as the king had used all of his arsenal against the Monarch that learned as he continued to fight with his magic blade, the Blue Flame, releasing spell after spell and attacking when the chance was presented, swinging at the same pace as the Loyce Knight beside him, to inflict as many fatal wounds as they could.

With barely some life in their swings left, they had made the impossible and defeated the once renowned king as he fell to his knees and dissipating from their sight, finally being freed from the clutches of the flame. Seeing as his role finally came to an end and his brothers avenged, the knight beside the Monarch dissipated away from sight, returning to his rest as he was before being found. And the last of the crows of power were in his hands.

As he returned to Alsanna, informing her of her lord finally being released and so many of the knights freed from the flames grasp, she allowed the monarch to approach her, were she presented her soul to him as a reward, truth to herself, her soul carried the same corruption as her counterparts, yet hers seemed much more... tamed. A dark soul such as this, tamed by the caring of another being that did not mind her of being a child of the dark. It was a surprise to know that something like this would happen. To cling to a king that was kind was enough for her to change her.

Yet there was one last thing the Monarch had to do, something that he discovered on his way from his travels in Drangleic, and that was the pilgrims of dark, the covenant that wished to prod and find the secrets kept in the dark, in doing so, the monarch needed to set alight three vessels aflame, to draw out a being that kept itself hidden from everything. The Dark Lurker, an angel that used both flame and dark spells against the undead stranger, but with great persistence and careful planning, his spell soared true and ended the fiend and his copy in one fell swoop.

The leader of the covenant, was all too delight for the monarch to find the most purest of dark in his journey through the abyss, a very dark soul that enticed the old man to flicker his eyes to life, before rewarding him with his talisman, the Dragon Chime now resting on his hands.

Knowing that he had made many feats in his journey, only one being that kept a watchful eye on him, echoing with a distorted voice, a mass of what seemed flesh, fire and wood faded into view, with a tremble on the floor as fire scorched it in his wake.

"Many monarchs have come and gone. One drowned in poison, another succumbed to flame, still another slumbers in the realm of ice. Not one of them stood here as you do. Now, you conqueror of adversities... Give us your answer."

The battle that followed was bittersweet at best. The Monarch had to slain the being that gave him so much insight, so much history concerning the world and the forces at play, yet an answer needed to be presented for him to be satisfied. Releasing a Soul Spear from his sword, the undead rushed forward as the flames died down, making Aldia susceptible to his attempts to injure him, or a way to direct the pain too, for the blob moaned in anguish every move it took to gather strength and release roots from his body or power for his flames.

Some flames struck the Monarch, some roots grazed and knocked him down, but his armor, once worn by Alva himself, took the blunt force and ushered him to push forward, enchanted blade with magic on hand and the will to finish this once and for all.

Then, with a quick and decisive thrust, Aldia had received enough, his body released a blinding yellow light before leaving the sight of the undead. He was alone, yet the scholar's voice still resonated in the room, the throne finally open to receive his new vessel to burn and the giants awaiting for the the warrior to approach his rightful place.

"I lost everything, but remained here, patiently. The throne will certainly receive you. But the question remains... What do you want, truly? Light? Dark? Or something else entirely..."

It was a fair question. What did the Monarch truly want? Was he truly inclined for the light of the flame? Or the embrace of the Dark? He came to this land in an effort to find a cure for his curse, yet the only thing that he received was a mean to treat the symptoms of hollowing. He was still bounded by the curse, where he would still die, but not suffer anymore of his hollow state, thanks to King Vendrick restoring the power of the crowns. The Monarch would live for an ample amount of time, not aging nor suffer the maddening state. What did he want? Want... How ironic. It was the first sin of the god of sunlight, now it was presented to the only being that could escape his imminent fate. How it repeats.

The answer was already answered as the monarch renounced the throne altogether and walked away from it. He did not need flame nor the dark, someone else can take that mantle, that throne that was destined for him. His sights were set to something much more than that. The unknown awaited him as he looked at the pillars of flames from the path that he took and his steps echoing through the darkness.

"There is no Path." Aldia's voice resonated once more towards the undead. "Beyond the scope of light, beyond the reach of dark... What could possibly await us?" The monarch bawls his fist as he marches forward. "And yet, we seek it, insatiably... Such is our fate."

The scholar spoke the truth as the undead understood the words behind it, for there would be a way to escape this curse, the answer simply hasn't appeared as of yet, though now time was on their side. The fire on the pillars gave the last of their strength before extinguishing themselves, leaving the darkness to consume the path and the Monarch to disappear into the dark. Only a small light was present in that shadow, the ember of the strongest undead fading and remained no longer.

Kiln of the First Flame

The world has congregated to the point that old kingdoms lay on top of each other with the new ones, every town, village and cathedral have united into a single land, one filled with only ash and void of life. The only telltale of it was on the weapons that lay stuck on the soot and ash, no longer dirt remained for them to rust away nor the sky let a single tear fall down. Only a blocked sun that resembled the dark sign of humanity, of mankind.

The Ashen one, Champion of Ash and the true lord of Ember took in the sight of the end of the world. His body has been mercilessly carrying his undying will, his mind perturbed by the sights and repulsion that he has saw. He has been to a world hidden in a fragment of a painting and in the distance where he found the edge of the world, guarding one of Gwyn's daughters. He has learned about many things and experienced more than he would've liked, not to mention... How the one knight, a slave no less, succumbed to the one soul that humans were born from in it's full glory, the Dark Soul.

He had slain his once ally and friend, for his power and madness had reached the breaking point, as he foresaw before turning into a beast... Yes, that old slave knight, that has lived on beyond every age and every cycle, just to find the last part of the blackened soul, to deliver only to his lady. He knew the risks and he knew that he was no champion to stave away the it's corruption.

Countless battles fought, allies were forever gone in the annals of history, deities vanquished from an era long ago, dragons laid to rest, old soldiers that gave up their arms, gods that fled away, a black ember snuffled out with her father and a painter that still sees hope in a bleak future. All of it seemed so long, long ago, in this ash covered land, yet his duty still needed to be fulfilled.

Prying away his eyes from his burning form, the Ashen one, slowly moved his tired and scarred body up the hill, where the kiln waited for him and so the lords from the past that have adopted a new form altogether. A being with a coiled sword, sitting down in front of a bonfire, kept watch on the flickering flame, it's energy spent after so many times had passed, his armor strapped together by the bits and pieces from the lords before and the banner of Lothric proudly displaying to anyone that looked at him.

The Ashen One, sporting the armor of Sir Vilhelm, giving respect to the warrior that fought for what he believed was right. Of course, he could've donned the armor of Gael, but that would be disrespectful to the warrior that had beaten the sands of time, at the edge of the world, with a purpose to follow. The weapon at his right hand was Gael's sword, heavily chipped away and stained with the blood of countless, using the weapon of his once ally is an homage to him, for he was no champion, but at the very end he acted like one splendidly. On his left hand a flame flickered, one that was once from a pyromancer and through his journey he has learned many spells to improve his craft. Last on his back sat the only blade that has aided him in the battle against against Yhorm, and used by his late friend, Siegward of Catarina, the Storm Ruler. Though it was a fragile blade, it did not mean that it was weak, far from it, it was good enough for so long before turning his attention to Gael's weapon and even though it out performed the bane of the giants, he kept it around as a memory for him to clutch.

His journey was not done yet, his will not shattered by the tremendous effort that he ensured towards the land. He had fought countless warriors, some hollowed, some maddened, some brave, others cowards, some were cunning, some repent, some gave the last of their life in their purpose, some gave a sacrifice too great and some that were next to him the whole way, awaiting him as he returned with dirt on his feet, sweat and blood of his own and weapon chipped after innumerable battles.

His embered self would not let everything that he has sacrificed to be in vain, even after being consumed and discarded as a failure, he will end this age once and for all, for all the lost souls to be released and his journey to be completed. He made sure that he delivered the blood of the Dark Soul, so that Gael's mission would finally be done and his mortal soul would rest.

It was time for the very last fight of a tired warrior. He took took the first step and continued to walk forward with determination as high as the heavens, his fire burning brightly in his eyes, his flame quivering for action and his great sword wanting to end it for good.

Feeling the vibrations in the ash, the amalgamation of the lords of cinder stood up from his resting place, drawing his coiled blade from it's resting place, the bonfire of the First Flame, light up with flames as he charged his way towards the Champion of Ash, his body telling it to test the trespasser to see if he could give the flame new life or to bring the dark finally to this world.

The Soul of Cinders attacked first, slashing with precise arcs, gathering the knowledge of his swordsmanship from the Abyss Watchers in a fiery blaze. With reflexes faster than anything a human would be able to do, the Ashen One rolled under the attack and gave a quick thrust before leaping out of the way, with his hand ablaze, he released an orb of magma from his hand, hitting his target without skipping a bit. The warrior of Lords, not impressed by his power, gave four more quick swings, only one was able to reach the Champion.

Feeling as though his opponent being too quick witted, the Soul of Cinder released a confounding flame towards his sword, stretching it far, as if it were a spear. Changing his style from before to a more suitable one, mainly from a spear man.

This surprised the Ashen One, yet he had fought those types well enough to not be careless with the Soul of Cinder. Charging from one spot to another in an attempt to ram his blade into the torso of his enemy, only to miss his chances, before putting his stance back and spinning in place, earning two bone crushing hits on the warriors arm and torso, forcing him to skid a few feet away from him, enough time to release the same energy and change his blade once more.

A third style was presented, this one that of a caster, summoning seven spheres of soul to lie and wait behind him. Stumbling back to his feet, the warrior charged forward as a spell was released at the same time, a spear of blue light rushed at him, only grazing his helmet for the slightest touch, before needing to dodge the hovering projectiles heading his way for approaching too close to their caster.

The knowledge of Lothric, passed down to the Soul of cinders, rushed towards the staff as power was being sent to the catalyst, gathering it's strength to release a wave of immeasurable power, only for it to realize that his opponent had reached his back, thrusting the great sword and slashing anyway that he could to make the amalgamation fall down. The sound change ringed once more, this one making the Lord much more athletic, flipping backwards to gain distance, his blade took a more saber form and his left hand flickered with flame.

Taking his stance and gauging his distance against his opponent, the Ashen One took a more cautious stance, for anyone with a saber type meant that they were faster with their swings, something that made him be in a disadvantage against due to weapon choice.

Noticing the change of attitude from his opponent, the Soul of Cinder took the time granted to himself to amass ominous chaotic energy on his left hand before slapping it to his chest. His body radiated with the hidden power that held inside of him, granting him strength at little cost as he ran forward with his blade ready to strike.

Realizing that his enemy just used Power Within, the pyromancy from an age bygone, made the warrior of Ash much more reluctant to fight as boldly as he did before. Instead, he opted to only strike when he could without being greedy, dodging the quick slashes from his opponent before giving a swing of his and leaping back. One strike was strong enough to make his enemy flinch and grabbing that opportunity that was given to him, he leap into the air and brought his sword down in an arc, hitting his knee on the ash and soot to cushion his fall and the blade to cut on the left shoulder of the Soul of Cinder, noting that his slash wasn't enough, he quickly jumped backwards and flung himself forward like an animal and embedded the blade through the chest of his adversary.

Figuring that he had finally defeated the congregation of souls, he let himself take a few deep breaths as his body had put more effort than what he had done before. This time however, his enemy had not fallen yet and surprised him as his body rose, ignoring the blade stuck to where his heart would be, flames erupting from his body as he placed his blade in both hands and released a burst of flame and an unknown power from within, blowing away the Champion of Ash and his great sword as well, skidding a few yards away, hitting a few weapons from long ago and a stone of hardened ash.

Kneeling on the ash and hurt from the explosion, he glared at the new form that his opponent took. Blade extended with flames covering it all around, his stance different to what he's used to and lightning rushing from his left hand. No Lord of Cinder that he fought had that power of lightning... So who was this one supposed to be? He gave his question in his mind, yet no matter how much he probed, nothing came up, though a distinct feeling was felt as he stared up, one that made him blink twice. This Lord was a fragment of someone from long ago, someone that was as old and powerful at it's prime like the previous lords, maybe even more than them.

Reaching for his blade, he stabbed the ground as leverage and let his light self burn ever so slightly more as he concentrated on the flame on his left hand, before bringing down on the ground, a wave of black flame unleashed from his grasp, and found it's way to the Soul of Cinder, but barely felt from the blow, either by casting the pain aside or not being able too.

With his elongated coiled sword at his side, the amalgamation made quick untamed steps after his opponent, before he jumped to the air and made a large swing, catching the Ashen One by surprised, before kicking him away for a bit and putting himself in a stance that sent a dangerous feeling to his opponent. What happened next was four heavy flaming strikes that could reach at an otherworldly length, lifting the Champion in the air, before stabbing the ground and releasing a powerful blast, sending him skidding further than before, with wounds far too deep to close now. To a normal human or hollow that would've ended the fight right there, but the the will inside the Champion of Ash was stronger than most.

With a shaky hand, he pushed himself up, tired and battered from around the Kiln, now the stage of an arena from countless battles. Standing up in a crouching position, he began a jog before evolving into a sprint, his armor clanking and his cloak fluttering from the speed. Not wanting to let him have a break, the Soul of Cinder raised his hand, a spear of lightning sitting on his palm before throwing it at him, making him roll to the side to avoid direct contact from it, then another was released seconds later and then a third one. Finally, a forth one was materialized, bigger and longer than the ones before, the amalgamation took time before throwing it at the sky. This confused the Ashen One before he heard the chirping of a dozen birds, it alarmed him as he looked up and saw the cause, two dozen lightning spears were coming close to him.

His instincts yelled at him to run the other direction as fast as he could, but not wanting to stop his momentum, the Champion of Ash continued forward, fearless in his action and avoiding the spears as he ran forward, avoiding another spear from his enemy to hit him at point blank. He opened his stance and gave two quick swings from both sides before jumping over the Lords of Cinder with his knee hitting the ground and crouching low, as he tried to grab him with a flaming palm. Being so close, he gambled his luck and released from his hand a black flame that exploded as it touched the air, before releasing the biggest ball of flame there ever existed, the remnants of the old Demon King roaring as it hit it's mark, making his opponent fall to one knee.

An opportunity was presented and one he wouldn't want to waste as he lashed out at his enemy, Gael's great sword swinging in large arcs, trying to end the battle as quickly as he could in that time frame, but at the last second he was grabbed by the flaming hand as he hoisted the ash failure up with only one arm. Trashing under the tight grip to be released, he was able to attack the chest and neck in a desperate attempt to let him go, but it was for naught before he was blasted away with another explosion, though this one was weaker in comparison with the other one.

Looking up, the Ashen one looked at his opponent that seemed to take longer to reach him than before, his steps were heavier, his body laced with wounds all around and the flames began to dim away. His attacks were connecting and his enemies knees started to tremble as his, he was close, but he needed to land a good strike, to finish this onslaught of a battle between wills and experience. Gael's rusty sword was behind him body, which meant that if he had to get it, he was open to an attack from behind. He stood up, albeit weakly and grabbed the great sword from his back, the Storm Ruler. Bruised and shaking, the Ashen One took a stance as winds started to rush towards the blade, as if a storm was coming from the sword itself.

Sensing the danger from his opponents stance, the Soul of Cinder rushed forward as quick as it was able to, cutting the distance in half in mere seconds, it was barely enough time for the storm to sit on the blade as he continued to wait for his enemy to get close enough to take the full blunt of the art. It was nerve wrecking and reckless from his part, but truth be told, he was hanging by a thread and moving wasn't an option anymore or else he'll simply fall down to his knees.

As if the world came in slow motion from his point of view, the Ashen One brought his sword down, releasing a shock wave at his tall, fiery opponent, exploding at contact point. They were both blown back, with the Champion of Ash still standing with only a sliver of strength, his foot tapping at Gael's sword, resting for his new master to reach it. The Soul of Cinder, had skidded a few feet as well, but taking the attack head on made it fall to it's knees, giving the last chance that the Ashen One needed to finish the fight once and for all. Drawing with whatever strength in his body held and a will so strong that made his ember form to flourish in a blooming hidden energy, he took the blade at his feet with his right hand and the Storm ruler with his left, kicking the ash below his feet and having both swords to his sides as he ran forward. With a silent scream, the Ash warrior drove both blades through the armor of the Soul of Cinder.

With a tired scream from the congregation of souls, finally being laid to rest, the coiled sword at his hand fell over and disappeared before reappearing at the bonfire of the First Flame. The Soul of Cinder, resigned from his post after so long, dissipated his form slowly as he hung his head in a familiar action. As he raised his head up towards the curse sign in the sky, he disappeared leaving behind his soul for the claiming of the Ashen One.

Panting and breathing ragged breaths, the unkindled one, took a moment to process it through his tired mind. He fought and won, but this tough fight meant much more than anything from before, it meant that he passed the test to do what he wished with the remains of the First Flame. He rose to his feet with his shaky legs, sheathing his Storm Ruler on his back as he used Gael's sword as support. He trudged his way towards the bonfire, looking at the dim flame, reduced to a mere, tiny ember, trying to cling to it's life and begging to either put it out of his misery or to add more fuel to a dying world.

Looking over his shoulder, he saw a white summon sign, upon closure inspection, it was from the Fire Keeper from Firelink Shrine. The Ashen One had done more than enough, this world had lived in a perpetual state for too long. He extended his hand towards the sign and summoned his aid and caretaker since the beginning of his tough and ruthless journey. She took a moment to gather her surroundings before presenting a very small smile to the knight, before looking at the flame between them.

Taking slow steps from the ash beneath them, she knelled down the bonfire and slowly retrieved the flame with her cupped hands, letting ash that she collected to fall from her grasp. She brought the flame to her chest as the world slowly started to black out. The Unkindled stood by, still using his blade to support his weight.

"The First Flame quickly fades. Darkness will shortly settle." She took a small pause the the flame flickered on her hands and turned smaller and smaller. "...But one day, tiny flames will dance across the darkness. Like embers linked from lords passed." She remained silent as the world turned to dark, just a she said before, the light extinguishing ever so quickly as everything went to black. Only the embers of the unkindled remained as his light faded as well.

"Ashen One, hearest thou my voice still?" She asked hopefully to him, but no answer came back. The knight disappeared as the fire did as well, leaving only behind a tiny ember to fly by, that showed that he stood there at one point.

True to the words spoken by the Fire Keeper, flames did dance across the darkness of the world, but it took a considerable amount of time for them to reach each other. Although, these flames were very different from one another. One was a deep yellow, burning a burning light like no other has ever lit before. One was a deep black, escaping from it's grasp a white light to signify it's presence. The last one was a crimson ember, so weak but burning a durable flame.

Once these flames came in contact with one another, they started to take form, fusing with each other in a single flame brighter than the darkness that they had encompassed them. However, it didn't stay in a single flame, for it soon evolved into a body, slightly bigger than that of a human. Soon, the body manifested armor that seemed to melt into play from the three flames.

Alva's, Elite Knights and Vilhelm's armors became one, leaving behind traces of themselves. The helm of the Elite Knight, with Alva's visor, only smaller to fit the small helmet, and turned black from Vilhelm's color. Elite Knights armor, with Alva's scarf hanging from his right side and cloth hanging by the waist, both grey instead of red, it's metal plate on his torso, now turned black, seen under the blue coat, now an onyx color, on the back a grey cape sat resting.

The leggings consisted of Vilhelm's leg plates, Elite Knights knee protectors and Alva's leather boots, all a charcoal color. The leather gauntlet on the right hand remained from the Elite Knight armor, the left arm still held the shoulder piece of Alva's armor and the left gauntlet rested Vilhelms.

From the darkness of the armor, golden linen started to show as inscriptions were slowly etched very faintly on the armor and a drawing on both cloths carrying the dark sign and the blinding sun, united.

Resting on the left hand was the Pyromancy Flame, now combined with the Dark Hand, effectively making good use for flames or a shield to be erected at the ready.

On his back, once three different chipped weapons, now fused into one. The Storm Ruler, Gael's Great Sword and the Abyss Great Sword, turned into one, their powers merging into one blade, now repaired using bits and pieces from their counterparts to show a sharp great sword, with intricate symbols of the wolf, blade that looked chipped but it was an illusion to it's sharpness and arc at the end with symbols of that of a storm. The base of the blade held red, to remind a small part of Gael is someway possible.

On his waist, sheathed on his left was the Blue Flame sheathed, grown to become a long sword than it's older counterpart. Next to the sheathed blade laid in rest the Dragon Chime, the colors inverted, the dragon a golden color while the chime was an obsidian tone.

The face beneath the helmet began to form, revealing deep orange eyes, the face of a young adult rested with a scar passing through his right eye, the line ran down to his right cheek, with a few more at the edges of his face. Hair as black as the night that was just short to not the helmet tangle it in his future adventures.

The armored body fell down onto the floor with no sound, staying knelled down as the flames outside started to dim in intensity. A vessel was created using only the strongest of individuals from ages long ago. The flame was their souls, an amalgamation of their strongest points, for they did not wish to fade away into nothingness. The Chosen Undead, with a body that could withstand even the most powerful of attacks. The Undead Monarch, with intelligence and a mind to look beyond the scope of light and the reach of darkness. And finally, the Unkindled Ash, with a will stronger than a black knight to stand against his strongest of foes.

Each of them had a quality to them and now, after the Age of Dark started to pass, their fragments united to a single being. Their memories, their knowledge and experience, from first hand or watching were integrated in their new body. However, the time was not yet for them to wake up. The new being stood in their position, sleeping until the day they would gather enough strength to leave their ashen tomb and see how the world had changed through the Ages.

Lordran, Drangleic and Lothric... All of the kingdoms have passed by through the annals of history. Now the world has changed all together, reborn from it's constant abuse from the First Flame and the dark abyss from being robbed of their own time. Now the world was named Remnant and four kingdoms were yet to be raised, yet the threatening of the Grimm was ever present.

The knight, will rise again in due time.