Shit guys, I'm so sorry. I had promised this way back but lately I've been lacking the energy to write. I think now that I got the ball rolling I'll be able to churn them out more efficiently.

The original, outlined chapter would clock around 7k words, so I decided to split it. Hope you guys like it anyway.

Here we go!

Chapter 15

Shirou walked through the chapel's flooded basement, boots splashing filthy water. At the other end of it, he climbed up the ladder that led to the reading room. The uneven, wooden tiles were marked by two sets of footprints - Henryk and the Crow's. The wood creaked louder as he stepped on the spots Henryk had.

He looked around. The books and trinkets were, somehow, in greater disarray than before. Blank pages were strewn about, the globes that adorned the mahogany desks broken to pieces and the walls had newly-formed dents on them. It was as if a pack of beasts had rampaged inside its walls.

Or a furious hunter.

Shirou pursed his lips, resolving to clean up this mess later. This room was one of the few entertainments Arabella and the rest had left. He bent down and picked a nondescript book, with handwritten notes in its pages yellowed by age. Pictures of beasts, muscles drawn and about to pounce were depicted on its pages. A particular picture of a wolf, salivating through its fangs and claws swiping ahead, was eerily realistic.

He put it back on the desk beside him, exhaling slowly. Perhaps entertainment wasn't the right word for it. Once, this had been a safe haven for hunters and those who worked for the church, like Gascoigne had. There should be more diaries on these shelves, depicting Yharnam's grim reality.

He wasn't interested in history lessons, but they could offer valuable information. Other church bases, where to find materials for his weapons, or even the underground labyrinths he had heard rumors about.

Shirou glanced back, as if he could see through the walls, at the tomb. And, if he had any luck, information about the monsters that haunted this world.

And for once, he wasn't thinking of the beasts.

His feet took him away from the room and into the set of winding stairs that led to the grand hall. The doors were open, and at a distance, he could see the dweller, Sakura, Arabella and Arianna. Henryk and the Crow were nowhere to be seen.

He nodded to the dweller, who offered him a quick greeting, and Arianna met him with a sardonic smile. "I see that you're alive and well. For a minute I expected the worse," she said, sitting in an uncomfortable-looking chair. Her hands were placed daintly on her lap, but the way she grabbed the fabric of her dress betrayed her tension.

Shirou rubbed the back of his head. "Do you always expect the worst? We just argued a bit; nothing happened. We're all friends."

He hoped so. Henryk's mad eyes and the Crow's cold fury as she stormed away were engraved in his memory. The way they all had departed was anything but friendly.

"I see," she said in a dubious tone. "If nothing else, I'm in good company, isn't that right, girls?"

Sakura nodded and said nothing, as usual. She sat silent as a grave in the corner, but her attention was trained on Arabella. Shirou's eyebrows rose a bit. Getting a read on Sakura was hard, but the way she looked at her was attentive. Worried. Despite himself, the corners of his lips quirked up.

He looked at the little girl. Arabella was up and alert, tiny fists drawn to her chest, clenched tight and staring at the front gate. She twirled to look at him, grey eyes watering. He instantly approached her.

"Did you and grandpa fight, Shirou?" she whispered.

He hunkered down low to her height. "Nope. Nothing like that. Henryk and me were discussing where would we go hunting next. Sometimes he gets a little mad because I don't do things like he tells me to."

And Henryk used to. Back when he and Gascoigne were training him, and he would charge at the beasts instead of fleeing and forget to keep his guard up in the streets.

It was strange to think of old, happier times when those times were slaying beasts and running for his life. Yet, when they got tired and the work was done, the three of them would chat, exchange stories and laugh. Back then, Gascoigne and Viola were alive, and Henryk had a family to go back to.

It hadn't been perfect, but it had been a small, warm share of happiness.

What was left of that family scrutinized him, determining if he was lying. Not long ago, she would've taken his word to heart, no questions asked. His nostrils flared. Old anger at himself rose again.

"Okay," she said. "He went that way." She pointed to the front gate and sat on the floor, leaning on the brick wall. She wrapped her arms around her chest as if closing herself to the world.

He plastered a smile on his face and ruffled her hair. It felt hollow, like he was a machine following its programming. "Thanks."

It didn't seem like she believed him, and weariness weighed on him. This night had been tiring.

He set out to the gate - thankfully, the one far away from the invisible demon that hung on the chapel's roof'. From its gaze, at least.

Outside, Henryk sat on one of the banks in the street. It was surrounded, on all sides, by Yharnam's grey stone idols, illuminated by the faint light of a lamppost. The weeping statues didn't seem to bother the old hunter, whose eyes focused on the far-away cathedral.

Shirou's steps echoed on the cobblestone floor as he descended the small flight of stairs.

"The fuck do you want?" asked Henryk, not facing him.

"I need your help. And you need mine, too."

Despite their shattered relationship, he knew Henryk. Any more apologies would be seen as pandering. Shirou would have to be as straight-forward as he could and hope for the best.

Henryk remained sat, his jaw clenched, as if prohibiting himself from talking. Even so, he began, words terse. "You know, the Crow told me something when she passed by. Didn't even stay to give a proper explanation; just left and went about her business. Whatever you said to her, congratulations lad. You pissed off the most dangerous woman in Yharnam."

"I didn't mean to." And he hadn't expected the subject to be so sensitive to her, even if he realized the Bloody Crow was bad news. "What did she tell you?"

"Before you were a twinkle in your father's eyes, rumors flew about the Crow. That she drank people's blood, that she took her prey's head as a trophy, but they weren't the interesting ones, no. Because I know for a fact the scariest one was true."

Henryk threw a glance at him, shifting in his seat. "When she died, she didn't stay in her grave. I saw it happening once. She picked a fight with mad Izzy, and that nutjob turned the Crow's chest to paste. Bloody chunks of her all over the place, face caved in - old Izzy fought like a beast. The very next hour, the Crow was back and returned the favor."

Shirou connected the dots. "She told you about me."

Not immortal, but undying. The apex predator in all of Yharnam, so long as he could cling to his sanity. The Hunter chosen by the Dream.

But Henryk likely didn't know that yet. There wasn't enough time for the Crow to tell him that.

"Got it in one. Now I can see how a wet-behind-the-ears, fledgling hunter got the better of Gascoigne."

Shirou frowned. "It didn't happen like that."

Henryk threw his hand up. "Spare me of the bullshit. I don't give a fuck. All I care about is the mission, now. It's all I have left."

"So do I." Shirou stepped ahead. "I'll help you, Henryk. We'll get to Byrgenwerth and find the truth. I want it as much as you."

He scoffed. "Some help." His lips quirked up unpleasantly. "At least I know for a fact I can use you as a meat-shield if needs be."

"I'm ready for that." It was nothing Shirou hadn't been planning to do, anyway.

Henryk rolled his eyes. "Of course you are." He exhaled. "We'll have to watch out for kidnappers as much as the beasts. Streets are chock-full of them."

"I know, I met one. It almost found me and Arianna." A thought surged in Shirou's mind. "Did they get you last time?"

"Aye. Three of the assholes ganged up on me. Dragged me to their lair and expected me to stay put, like a good little prisoner. I didn't; it was the shittiest prison I've ever seen. They left my cell's door open and I sneaked out. None of them saw me leaving." He laughed. "They had a nasty surprise waiting for me at the end, but I used to make a living out of killing Darkbeasts. Then, I walked through that Old Yharnam hellhole and the Crow found me nearby, on my last legs, no blood vials on me."

Shirou stared at him. "...you were busy."

"Yeah. Nothing compared to what's ahead, though. We have to get up there," he said, pointing up and far away. Faintly, Shirou saw the tall, grey construction. The tolling of a bell resonated in the air, originating from the building.

"The Grand Cathedral?"

"There, at the end of your path, you'll find a worthy foe to sharpen your fangs against. Vicar Amelia must be feeling lonely up there," said the Bloody Crow.

"Aye. Turns out we need a password to get inside the Forbidden Woods and then Byrgenwerth. Only way to find it is tear the memory from inside of the old founder's skull. The church's minions are guarding it, so we're in for the fight of our lives."

Shirou filed the information about the founder for later. "Is there someone named Amelia guarding the Cathedral?"

Henryk gave him a long glance. "...probably. She's one of their meanest guard-dogs. How did you-?" He paused. "Eh, doesn't matter. Yeah, she's a zealot of the worst sort and happens to be good with a blade. If she tries to stop us, we go through her."

Shirou nodded. The idea didn't bother him as it would have days ago.

Relative silence fell between them. They didn't exchange words, but Yharnam was never silent. Crows cawed, distant howls rippled through the air as hunters engaged beasts and the Moon shone oppressively above him.

Urged him forward.

"I need your help for something else too, Henryk."

Henryk hummed. It was a low, terse sound. "Aren't you pushing your luck, lad?"

"I'm not asking for much." He rummaged inside his garb and snatched his Beckoning Bell from within. He had been storing the small tool for a long time.

Now, all he had to do was convince someone who hated him to give him a hand. Social skills weren't exactly a Yharnamites' priority, nor had been his. Any resemblance of society, friendship and bonds were rare in Yharnam these days. Yet, he had to give it a shot.

He still trusted the man in front of him with his life.

The old hunter looked at it. "Really?"

"You don't have to do anything. All I'll do is summon you. If it works, it works. If it doesn't..." He gave a crooked smile. "I'll look for something else."

Henryk snorted. "Fine. You wash my back, I wash yours. I can live with that." He stood up to his full height. He reached inside his garb and pulled a Resonant Bell. He rose the small, blue bell and whispered something at it. "The password is Viola. Say the word close to your bell and it'll remember it."

Shirou's hands balled into fists. "You didn't have to do that, Henryk."

"Wouldn't want you to forget their names."

Anger, bright and sizzling, burned in his gut. "I didn't forget anything!"

"Could've fooled me. You didn't even stay with my granddaughter. You left her in a room full of strangers and went on with your business."

"I made sure no one would do anything to her." His words to the dweller, harsh and sharp as a blade, floated in his thoughts. The man hadn't deserved that, even if he still thought it was necessary. "I did like you taught me. I minimized risks."

"I thought I did that too, when I left them to you. Turns out a small risk of dying can still mean fucking dying."

"It was my fault." And it had haunted his thoughts ever since. "But there's nothing we can do to change it. I'm sorry Henryk." His voice grew thick. "I really am." The fire had taught him as much. Changing the past was beyond him, but he could choose how he would move forward and give that tragedy meaning.

"Are you, though? Back there, in the tomb, I saw it. I trained you boy. I was there in the moment your eyes changed from a kid's to a killer's. I can always tell when you're about to grab your cleaver"

He nodded. There was no point in denying that. "I was.

Henryk huffed. It was tinged with his usual, sardonic humor. "That eager to finish the job, huh?"

Shirou sealed his lips shut.

"I always found it strange. Gascoigne laughed it off, but I always knew. I trained many before you. You should've seen those kids. They thought they were hot shit; that they would be the toughest hunters in town after a couple of weeks of learning how to swing their weapon. But every time, every damn time, when they saw a beast for the first time, they didn't fight. They didn't even run."

Memories came to Shirou's mind, of his first night in Yharnam. Knife-like fangs, roaring and howling, biting at his heels. Beasts everywhere, sensing him as prey. He had grabbed a loose pipe and reinforced it to its limit, and thrown it away and ran when it was ineffective.

The night Gascoigne had saved him.

Henryk glared at him. "They freeze. Like a tiny animal when you get the jump on it. They don't move when a beast came at them snarling and hungry. That was cowardly, but it was normal. I could tell you hadn't fought a day in your life. But you never froze."

Shirou mulled the words over. Henryk's mind was made; there seemed to be no right answer. He tried anyway. "I couldn't freeze. If I did, I would die."

Henryk chortled. "Just like that?" He shook his head. "...I remember the day you said that crap about being a hero. Gascoigne ruffled your hair and said you were a good kid. But for a good kid, you can be pretty fucking cold."

That was the point, wasn't it? In turning his mind into steel. Steel endured blows unchanged, withstood the trials of time and wasn't easily bent. It was the only way to fight back against this world. If he let Henryk's words get to him...

Shirou sighed. Suddenly, his thoughts were slow and tangled like threads. "I'll get out of your sight, now. I'll be back in a few hours, then we can go."

"Sure. Go be a hero, or whatever rocks your boat. Then, I can show you the real world again."

Shirou turned on his heel and walked away, throat clenched with unsaid words. He had seen the real world. It was true that being a hero of justice was incompatible with Yharnam, and even his own world.

But that didn't mean anything. Even if it was impossible, he had a promise to keep, in any way he could.

He looked back at Henryk one last time. Images of Henryk in the tomb, smoldering with rage and reaching for his weapon came back to him. He was angry, and it wasn't going away.

If Henryk went mad like Gascoigne, Shirou would have to kill him too. That was the price of this world's mercy.

Shirou returned to the chapel, sullen. He bid his goodbyes, taking special care to smile for Arabella. Even that didn't come easy. Maybe it was the result of turning his mind into steel. There wasn't energy left for anything but the mission. He also told Sakura that their dinner had to be postponed, just for a while. The lie also didn't come easy, but if she minded, she didn't show it.

He reached for the lantern, and the chapel dissolved in the darkness.

His eyes opened. The Dream's ethereal fog wafted in the air, and the Moon shone in the cloudy sky. The Doll was in her usual spot, playing with the bony-white creatures. She took notice of him and rose, the motion mechanic and awkward.

Shirou scanned his surroundings. "Hi Doll. Where's Gherman?"

"Hello, good hunter. I'm afraid Gherman has retreated to his solitude. You may find him later, when he wakes up."

"That's fine. I actually meant to talk with you."

"Be nice to her, you hear me? She's the only one in these forsaken worlds that would never lift a finger against you, not even to defend herself," said the Crow.

He had let his apprehension of her control him for too long. She had already helped him many times; made him stronger. If there was a way to repay her, he had to find out.

"I see. What is it you desire, good hunter?

Shirou scratched his head, fighting the uncomfortable weight he always felt close to her. He wasn't good at reading people, and dolls weren't any easier, apparently.

"I don't want anything from you." He winced. "I mean, I met the Cr- Eileen. She told me to say hi."

"Is that so? The little ones and I miss her dearly. Would you like to see her grave, good hunter?"

"Uh, thanks, but no."

He barely restrained from hitting himself. This was going nowhere. "Do you want something from the waking world, Doll? There isn't much to do around here."

She bowed to him. "Thank you, but I already have all I need." The white creatures pawed at her, and she looked at them fondly. "But would you mind bringing the Little Ones a few trinkets? They've been feeling quite bored as of late."

Shirou sighed in relief. "I can do that. I'll bring them...books?" he tried.

"Hats. They love hats. And hair ornaments, too."

Shirou's eyebrows rose. Weren't they all bald? "Alright, hats and hair ornaments. Anything else?"

"No, that'll be all. Thank you kindly, good hunter." She assessed him. "You seem tired," she said.

Shirou chuckled. It sounded hollow. "Yeah, I really am." He rolled his shoulders. "Nothing I can do about it, though. We hunters are never out of work."

And it scared him that they might never be.

"That is true." She tilted her head. "Would you like to rest? There is a special place in the dream for hunters who long for rest."

Shirou was about to deny it when he felt cold skin brushing against his hand. Eyes wide, he looked at the Doll, who had grasped it with her own. Her unnatural, glassy eyes, shone with human-like joy.

"Come with me."

Dumbfounded, he let her guide him. They walked the cobblestone path barricaded by the dozens of graves and the fields of flowers. The dream didn't have Yharnam's haunting beauty to it, but it had a peaceful atmosphere. He could easily imagine it; devoid of graves and filled with the living, a workshop for hunters to improve their craft and interact with each other.

She stopped in front of a strange tombstone. Whereas the others were grey and adorned by candles, the one ahead of them was painted in a beautiful gold. It was decorated with sea-blue enamel lines, shining like the sun among its neighbors.

He had seen this tombstone when he first got here, hadn't it? The golden dot that stood out from the monochrome graves.

Something thrummed inside him, a wave of magic that washed over him like heartbeats. His eyes burned, as if boiling inside, and he brushed his hands on it. "What is this?" he asked, voice reverent.

"A gateway, to a place of rest for your weary spirits," she said, and the Doll sounded equally admiring. "A long time ago, a sorcerer who dwells in dreams brought it close to this Hunter's Dream. Ever since, hunters have used it as a safe-haven. They took to calling it the Hunter's Paradise. It's very beautiful, or so I was told."

"You never went there?"

"No, but the hunters always returned happier and lighter." She smiled. "Nothing could make me happier. And the person that calls the Paradise home often visits us. She and Gherman are very fond of each other."

It sounded too good to be true. "Why they didn't stay there, then? Why go back to the hunt?"

The light of her eyes dimmed. "I couldn't say, good hunter. I can only guess that the blood calls to their souls more fiercely than the soothing tranquility of those gardens."

Shirou took his hand away from the tombstone, his marvel wafting away like a distant dream. "...that's a shame." He forced a smile. "I'll make sure to visit it one of these days. Thank you for showing this to me."

She made a small curtsy. "You are welcome, good hunter. May you find your worth in the waking world."

With that, she strolled back to her usual spot, body utterly still like a machine. In times like these, he couldn't deny she wasn't human.

But those smiles and that joy were real. She did care, like the Crow had said. About him, the other hunters and the little creatures.

Despite what was coming, his heart felt a bit lighter when he was back in his shed, whisked away by the Dream's tombstone. Pipes, tools and old man Raiga's bike were laying about in the cramped walls. Still clad in his Hunter's garb, he plucked the Beckoning Bell from it. He whispered the name of the woman he failed at it.

Soon, morning would rise in Fuyuki. The last he would see for a long time.

He waved his hand and the bell chimed. Pulses of arcane energy filled his shed, and the call for other worlds was made. Shirou let his back slide on the cold wall and sat on the floor, waiting. The pulses thrummed on and on, slow and hypnotic, turning his eyes heavy, lulling him to sleep. He had been tired, hadn't he?

Hours later, he woke up with a jolt. Rays of sunshine fell gently on the room, bathing it with their warmth.

But they weren't enough to abate the terrible premonition that shook him awake. The cold, viscous sensation, as if someone had stepped on his grave, coming from his bell.

Oof, finally. This is it, guys. As I had promised, the next chapter will feature Gil and Kotomine and actually introduce the villain for the next Arc. Plenty of foreshadowing going on here, if you picked it up.

Hoped you guys liked this!