NOVEL NEXT Chapter 8: "The Lost"
The hopelessness of the situation was sinking in. Attacking the inside by shooting a bullet down its throat was the initial plan he had thought up, but if even the squishy eyeball of the beast was bulletproof then none of that would work. The joints would prove to be similarly invulnerable. At this point the only real damage had been inflicted by Ludwig.
Even still, Gehrman thought, the Moonlight Sword should be decimating this beast. In all of my memories there was nothing that could survive more than a couple blows from it… Is the Spell weakening him too? What can't it change?
Gehrman felt he truly understood why this thing was called a "Nightmare" the strange rules of reality were otherworldly and seemed to bend to the will of some higher beings narrative. The difficulty of this Nightmare was far beyond anything a normal human could hope to survive. However, it had actually been rather easy for Gehrman up until this point. His vast experience and knowledge of the beast's patterns allowed him to fight far above his level, but the Nightmare Spell was not named as such for no reason. He had been given a difficult trial after all. In fact, it seemed a bit too difficult.
Nightmare's are supposed to follow a short event. This one is likely the sealing of Old Yharnam and the fall of the Holy Church. Realistically I am supposed to survive through these events and come out the other side an Dreamer. I don't actually need to fight…
Though the inner workings of the Spell were still unknown (at least to the general public), Gehrman saw no real reason why this trial would only end with the defeat of this Fallen Beast. There had to be another route. His experience as the First Hunter told him so, and yet he was moving forward, slashing brutally at the beast, trying to create openings for Ludwig.
The people of this Nightmare were not real, Gehrman knew that. Even if they were, there wasn't anyone worth saving.
A flash of gray hair appeared in his head. The swift blade of the most wonderful woman he ever knew.
A young girl with tattered brown hair appeared in his head. Hair that he had cut himself.
The shining moon.
All of these thoughts conflicted as a temporary crack came under his identity. A single tear rolled down his cheek.
Then Gehrman was cut in half.
…
The pale moon shone in the sky above. He reached out a hand to grasp it, only for a blood covered stump to enter his field of view. The blood was gushing out of the injury, but he couldn't feel it, the pain had overstimulated him to the point where he felt numb.
"Heh," he waved the stump around, blood flying every which way. "Ha! HaHa! HAHAHAHAHHAHA!!" The incoherent mess of blood, muscle and bone cackled into the night. "Look, Maria! Look, Aventine! Look, Tokka! I found it! Paleblood! HAHAHAHA!"
As the madness pooled and his memories mixed he felt his life slipping away. What a gory scene this is! How hilarious that I die to a mere beast! It's fine though! The next time I come back I'll kill the bastard! Then, if I die again, I'll come back again! And Again! And Again! And Again! And Again! UNTIL I KILL HIM! I SWEAR IT YOU, WRETCHED BEAST! OBEL! I'M A HUNTER NOW! I'LL BE THE ONE TO GUT YOU! I'LL TEAR YOU TO SHREDS!
The endless and forceful laughter became raspy. "That's right," A hoarse voice struggled as it started to choke on its own blood. "I'm [Contracted] with a god! I'm unkillable!"
To prove this point he pulled up his Runes. He saw his name shift between Gehrman, Johann, Dorian, and something else incomprehensible. He saw his Memories. He saw his many Attributes. He saw his Aspect.
The storm in his mind quieted as he considered the Aspect. He had not even looked at it before.
[The Lost]
Though he couldn't remember focusing on the runes, the Aspect description showed up anyway.
Aspect Description: [A miserable wretch who has no clear purpose. They don't know who they are or what they want. Whatever skills or talents they have have been forgotten or sealed. Ultimately, they are a useless puppet.]
He stopped breathing for a minute as he read the words over and over again. To an outsider, it would look like the old man had finally passed on.
But he had not.
The true meaning and insult within his Aspect was slowly being etched into his very being. The madness started to ebb as an unwieldy rage grew instead. However, this rage eventually returned to madness.
The man began taking in air again, every breath a herculean effort. He should have died a long time ago, but something kept him going. Something kept in him tethered to this horrific Nightmare.
It wasn't rage, grief, or madness, but something altogether different.
The moon seemed to grow bigger and bigger, taking up his entire field of vision. The hollow yet comforting feeling started to nestle deep within him.
His thoughts started to straighten out on their own, without the influence of a sedative.
"I am Gehrman, Johann, Dorian, and the very Moon on high," the man whispered. "I know who I am. I know what I want. I know what I can do. I am not a puppet."
Interrupting his monologue, a rabid dog came bearing towards him. This was a straggler from the purge.
Its tongue flared and its fangs glistened with blood. The man responded with no emotion, he simply lay as limp as a corpse.
But he was not a corpse.
As the dog leaped for his open intestines the man used his last strength and grabbed onto the dogs neck with his teeth. Then, with a sickening sound he ripped an artery. Fresh blood sprayed into the air, covering the man so fully he looked like a newborn babe forcefully pulled from his Mother's womb.
With no joy or disgust the man drank and drank the blood of the beast. The blood of the Corrupted.
And he felt himself being born anew.
With searing pain that would have been enough to force any grown man into unconsciousness, the Hunter rose from the blood. Shimmering under the moonlight, his visage was akin to an alien god.
[You have slain a Dormant Monster, Ashen Blood Dog.]
Gehrman sighed as the melodious voice rang through his ears. He shook his head vigorously, sending wet droplets flying. "What a night this is…" he trailed off listlessly.
With the slightest of movements he moved to the side. Efficiently dodging a strike that came only a second later. Then again, the swipe of a mangled claw missed him. A shower of sparks covered his body as the Hunters Attire reformed onto his body. It seemed to soak up all the blood covering him, taking on a dark-red hue.
Continuing the dance with this beast he called forth his Blunderbuss and started humming an ethereal tune. The tempo of it increased steadily. With each note, the pace of the dance picked up as well.
Eventually, the beast fell over itself and onto the ground. Before it could get up though, the heavy barrel of a gun was pressed upon its skull. A confused growl was the only sound that managed to escape from its lips before its head exploded.
[You have slain an Awakened Monster, Ashen Blood Scourge Beast.]
[You have received a Memory: Uncanny Saw Spear.]
"Lost…how absurd."
In a frightening moment of instinct, new sparks appeared. As if he had done it a thousand times, he pulled the Saw Spear from thin air and flicked it. The threatening contraption snapped out, creating a serrated spear.
"I have told you this already. I am Gehrman. I am The Last Hunter."