Eastern Magnolia

People can describe muggy weather as melancholic or depressing; others describe it as relaxing or peaceful.

Well, both people were right in their own way.

A large bundle of clouds formed over the city late in the afternoon, and about an hour later the rain came down heavily. It forced some outdoor cafes and restaurants to close while others remained open, the seating just now inside.

There were people rushing through the streets with coats or umbrellas trying to find some shelter from the rain, a couple of laughs and annoyed groans being heard here and there. While everyone was trying to find shelter, there was one person who strode through the rain without a care in the world.

The Hunter had his hands stuffed in his coat pockets with his head hung low, ignoring the liquid that dripped down the ends of his cap. He constantly felt the rain pattering against his leather coat, relieved that the leather he had was water resistant. There were also some extra layers of the material hidden underneath which protected him from the cold. Funny how he originally thought the layers were supposed to add some more defense from both blunt and thrust attacks from the beasts. Oh well, you live and you learn... repeatedly.

Anyway, it has been a week since his very rude awakening and troublesome day. During those couple of days, he's bounced between libraries to gain more information, explore the city to get accustomed to the streets, and take on bounty hunting jobs. He had to make money one way or another if he was going to survive, even if it meant going back to his bloody roots, unfortunately.

The Hunter rounded the corner of the street and entered a plaza, looking up to see his destination. Right in the center of the plaza was a building that was completely made of wood from the ground up, two light lacrima crystals next to a wooden sign that has seen better days.

'Drunken Mage's Tavern' it read, the edges of the green letters chipped off.

Apparently the tavern was a haven and a hub for any swashbucklers, mercenaries, and bounty hunters looking for a decent paying job or a place to disconnect and get ruined by alcohol. He discovered this place not too long after his interaction with the petite bluenette, and now the Good Hunter frequently came here just for bounty hunting jobs. Nothing else.

The Hunter stopped at the door and knocked twice with the back of his hand, waiting patiently for a response. The small wooden slot opened, revealing two crimson colored eyes boring into the foreigners' apathetic expression.

"Mark?" the owner of the eyes grumbled.

Without hesitating, the Hunter slightly pulled on his right glove to expose his wrist, revealing the Bold Hunter's Mark that was permanently scarred on his caucasian skin. The man on the other side narrowed his eyes and quickly slid the slot shut before opening the door, revealing a built man who lacked any hair and was as tall as the Hunter.

"Welcome back, Good Hunter," he greeted while watching the young man enter the tavern.

The scent of cigarettes and alcohol filled his nostrils as he walked through the dimly lit tavern, ignoring the men and women laughing together while holding mugs filled with beer, whiskey, and rum. Those who weren't as drunk either spared a glance or glared before going back to their own business. At the end of the tavern was a bar being tended by a middle-aged man wearing a gray suit and tie, his black hair slicked back neatly. He also had a rough looking beard concealing the lower part of his face.

The barman just served someone a mug of beer before looking down the aisle, seeing the familiar cloak wearing bounty hunter approaching the bar. Without a word, he immediately went to work grabbing a drink for the Hunter who sat himself down at the middle barstool. After a few minutes, he walked back with a mug of ale, sliding it down the wooden counter to which the Hunter caught with his hand.

"Good Hunter," the barman greeted with a nod.

"Eddy," he hummed, slightly lowering his mask as he took a sip from the mug, sighing as he felt the liquid burn the back of his throat momentarily.

"I take that you finished your hunt?"

The Hunter lowered his mug and reached into his coat pocket, grabbing a rolled up poster and handing it over to Eddy. The barman took it and rolled it open across the counter, humming as he saw the face of a twisted man grinning sadistically at whoever was looking right at him, a smear of crimson highlighted above his name.

"So, you killed the very man the royal guard has been trying to track down for months?" Eddy rhetorically asked while grabbing a pen and a document from beneath the counter. "Those guys won't be happy. Governments been wanting to put him on trial for the crimes he committed."

"Idiotic of them wanting to put a beast like him to stand trial," The Good Hunter scoffed while watching the barman fill out his 'name', PO Box, status of the criminal, and cause of death if the criminal was killed. "I bludgeoned him to death with a brick. You'd hardly recognize his face."

"Brutal," Eddy hummed while filling out the last portion of the document. "No remorse for human life, and you kill without even using a weapon."

"I do what I have to do to survive, Eddy," he took one final swig from the mug, slamming it down on the counter and releasing a satisfied sigh. "Besides, there was no humanity left within him when I faced the bastard, not even a single shard. So, I didn't kill a human… I killed a beast."

There he goes again, claiming that he's killed a beast instead of a human. Granted, the jobs he took on had hefty bounties over notorious criminals that were deemed as monsters or inhumane by society, but a human life is a human life. Not to mention, the look in the Hunter's eyes when he calls these criminals beasts was… disturbing. He couldn't describe the look word for word, but it was something that disturbed him greatly. Thankfully, his tough exterior did not show his concerned look.

The barman placed the document on the poster and rolled it up, placing both of his hands on the ends and closing his eyes. Purple magic seals formed on the palm of his hands, quickly crushing the poster and sending it away to the people who were going to pay the Hunter handsomely.

"There, they should deliver your payment by tomorrow morning," he informed the Hunter who nodded, sliding the mug over to him before standing up and adjusting his mask. "Anything else you need?"

"That'll be all," the young man took some steps back and tipped his cap at the barmaid, turning his direction to the door. "See you around, Eddy."

"Take care, Good Hunter," the barman watched the Hunter leave while cleaning the empty mug with a handkerchief, narrowing his eyes once he crossed the door's threshold and back into the rain.

This man… this Hunter… was far from normal. Even the others agreed amongst one another when he left the tavern for the first time. There were already rumors flying around that he has seen things that no one could even imagine, things that could make any sane man or woman go insane in the blink of an eye. Others said that he claimed to have hunt beasts, but instead he murdered innocents who he saw as beasts. Rumors are rumors though, so any or all of them could be false. Regardless, he was a dangerous person, and many people were thankful that he was on their side… hopefully.

"HEY, WHO TOOK THE STUPID ISLAND QUEST AT THE BOTTOM OF THE BOARD?! I CALLED DIBS!"

Later that Evening

If there was one thing that he missed the most, it would be his weapons. The feeling he would get when transforming them into something greater was absolutely exhilarating. No matter how terrified, angry, or disturbed he was when fighting his enemies, all of that seemed to vanish briefly every time he snapped his two weapons into one or stun an enemy with a perfect shot. Now he was stuck in a different world with new threats without his trusty trick weapons, forcing him to use his bare hands. The thought of using his hands reminded him of the first time he tried to fight the beast scarfing on the corps in Iosefka's clinic. The end result was the first of many gruesome deaths he would experience.

The Good Hunter unconsciously placed a hand on his stomach and shuddered, closing his eyes and mentally tucking the nightmarish thought to the back of his head, 'Not now…'

As soon as he finished that thought he suddenly ran into a door, the sudden impact causing him to stumble back a little. He opened his eyelids and already found himself standing right at the entrance of an old one story hotel. This was the place that he had been staying in throughout the week, the wood decaying from age while the cracked windows were collecting soot and mold. The rooms were not much better either, but hey it's much better than sleeping in a dumpster.

He entered the hotel and walked through the old lobby which literally had a single couch coated with cobwebs, a stash of magazines that's never been touched once, and the front desk which was unoccupied at the moment. It seems like everywhere he goes he'll never avoid old and rundown places, which he didn't care about to be honest. As long as there's a roof over his head, everything was perfectly fine.

The Hunter grabbed onto the wooden railing and carefully stepped up to the second floor, hearing sweeping not too far.

'Ah, seems like she's busy once more,' he thought as he continued climbing up the stairs

He stepped onto the second floor and looked down the one sided corridor, spotting the short elder sweeping the floor of her hotel humming a small tune. She was naturally short actually, the old woman reaching to his hips.

The elder sensed a familiar presence and stopped her sweeping, looking at the direction where the Hunter was with a sweet smile on her wrinkled face, "Ahh, if it isn't the Good Hunter! How was your day today, dearie?"

"Busy," he nodded as he approached her, taking off his cap and rubbing a hand across his unkempt, black hair. "How about you, Miss Mishima? I hope business is running smoothly."

"Well, if you're talking about the occasional riled up love birds that come in and leave a tip inside the rooms then yes, business is running smoothly," she joked before resuming her sweeping. "By the way dear please, call me Mima."

The Hunter rolled his eyes and shook his head, feeling the corner of his lip crack ever so slightly. Ever since he stumbled in here the night after his awakening, Mima cared for him like how a grandmother would. At first it surprised him, wondering why an old lady would be so caring and open to a stranger who wondered in here for shelter. There were probably many other strangers who stumbled into the motel before him, but… why him? Why take a hunter who knew nothing but death and destruction?

The answer to his question was rather simple.

"You're troubled, scared, and hungry young man. I can see your ribs through that cloak of yours."

And so from that day forth she provided him a room to stay in free of charge, frequently checking now and then every time when he came back from his bounty hunting work to see if he was fine. She even cooked him some food despite his protests!

What she did was very sweet and selfless of her to do, and for some reason… she reminded him of the Doll. Albeit not made of porcelain and much more chatty.

So as a result of her kind act, he returned it in a similar fashion. Every time he got his payment he would split the money and let her take most of it. It's quite ironic because when he did, she would protest telling him to keep his hard earned money. Regardless of her protests, he still handed her the money, hoping that the elder would stop protesting one day and just accept his selfless repayment without any complications.

The Hunter walked over to one room that had a door slightly ajar, narrowing his eyes as he peeked inside. He was met by a disgusting sight that didn't even faze him, "Have you even got started on the rooms?"

Mima stopped her sweeping and rubbing a finger on her wrinkling chin, soon realizing that she hasn't even started on the rooms. She completely forgot about them while she was sweeping the floors and dusting the cracked widows.

"Oh dear, it seems I've forgotten to start on them today," the elder sighed, rubbing her face.

The Hunter rubbed his chin and nodded silently before walking down to the end of the corridor where the supply closet was. Well, this was going to be a long night filled with cleaning stains and readjusting sheets, but he was doing this to save Mima the stress that she had endured for who knows how long. Also, it was time to extend his repayment to her other than to hand her his Jewel.

"Don't you dare, young man! I can take care of the rooms myself!" Mima warned him, only to be ignored when he began to rummage through the items inside.

He pulled out a bucket and dumped an assortment of cleaning items into it, grabbing a mop afterwards. The Good Hunter soon made his way over to the room, only to stop when a pink blur zoomed right in front of him. The stubborn owner had her short arms spread out, preventing him from walking any further.

"Dear, I really appreciate that you're willing to help me, but please let me clean the rooms," Mima said with a sweet smile, hoping he would drop his items and just walk straight to his room. "The hotel has been my responsibility and mine only."

The Hunter stared down at her for a moment, leading for Mima to believe that he would leave one of the many responsibilities to her. Well, that belief was crushed when he placed his hand on her head, effortlessly sliding her to the side.

"Apologies, Miss Mishima," he began as he took a step inside the room, turning to her and grabbing the door. "But protesting won't clean this mess any faster."

Without giving her the chance to protest, The Hunter quickly closed the door, soon getting started on cleaning up the first of many rooms for the night.

Mima stared at the wood for a moment before lowering her head and sighing, releasing a soft chuckle. He was very, very stubborn, but who was she to say such a thing?

For too long she the weight of her responsibilities pressed down on her aching shoulders, constantly cleaning her mess of a hotel and tending to her bills. Things have been going downhill for a long time, and she was on the verge of losing her precious hotel, passed down from generation to generation.

Then the young lad came along.

He was stumbling about in the lobby with an exhausted look on his face while clutching his stomach. Mima already knew that he was distressed beyond belief just by the look in his eyes, and for some reason… she knew that there was more in that look than meets the eye.

The elder dismissed the thought and got back to sweeping, the two cleaning the decaying hotel for the night.

The Hunter's Dream

Gherman sat in silence out in the field of flowers, slightly leaning on the cane that he held between his legs. He stared up at the moon that watched over the Hunter's Dream, his frown deepening while he tightened his grip on the end of the cane.

Something was wrong. Gherman felt something within the Hunter that concerned him. As much as he wanted to know what was wrong… he didn't. Like many other hunters he abolished, he felt nothing but peace within their souls. Sure there were those who were greatly scarred to the point where they begged him to end their lives, but once he granted their wishes he felt their once conflicted souls finally rest in peace as they moved pass the barrier and to their homes in the Waking World.

However, the Hunter he recently abolished had something different.

There was something dormant deep within the soul of the Good Hunter, like a virus waiting for the perfect conditions to begin its attack. Not only that, The First Hunter knew that during the ritual he felt something within the cosmos shift, as if there was a breach in a different plain once the rugged metal of his scythe cut through the flesh of one of the many Hunters he cared for. He could sense the reality of the Dream and Yharnam slip away and invade this new plain. Once more like a virus being sent into its host and waiting for the right conditions to attack.

A virus within a virus.

Gherman lowered his head and shook his head slowly, his worst fear may have come to pass.

"Oh… what have you done…" he gravely muttered, feeling a new yet familiar presence finally awakening within the dream.

It was time for the Hunt to start anew.

The Next Day

A small prodding sensation was the first thing he felt when he stirred awake. It was repetitive, poking his side over and over as if someone were trying to nibble through his clothing. The Hunter tried to dismiss the feeling as he rolled over, hearing the slight clinking of a bucket where his feet were. Just as he had hoped the annoying sensation finally stopped, this bringing out a satisfied sigh from the young man as he felt himself falling under the sweet spell of sleep he so desperately needed once more.

Then suddenly something poked his cheek, forcing his skin to press up against his cheekbone. He instantly snapped his eyes wide open, his vision completely obscured by a white decaying face with its mouth wide open, its single eye boring into his black ones.

The Hunter instantly felt his heart leaping into his chest as he gripped the clean bedsheets underneath him. What was right before him was either real or another stupid hallucination he hoped that it was one of those stupid hallucinations, and he prayed that it was the latter.

And so he shut his eyes with one thing in mind, hoping that when he opened them the little abomination would no longer be clouding his vision.

A/N: Apologies for the short chapter, but I just wanted to squeeze this one out before finals take over. Anyway, I need help with something. I'm having trouble on how the Hunter will receive his weapons, debating on two choices that I will give you readers! I've set up a poll on my profile with the two choices I had in mind, and I'll greatly appreciate it if you readers voted on either of them!

I shall reveal the results in the next chapter which will begin the Galuna Island Arc. Yes, canon is finally starting!

And that's that. See you all in the next chapter!