G.N. Chapter 21 (Patreon)

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Chapter 21 A Sickening Song

It is a testament to his frustration that even overcoming his trial left him bereft of satisfaction.

He had done it.

With a new weapon in hand, Jaune began his ascent up the stairs to his long-sought destination. It was strange to think that his journey until this point had only occurred in a single district. Yharnam was undoubtedly a large city.

His steps were rhythmic as he made his way up the old stone steps, the evening air swirling about in whispers. The night was quieter than it had been for a long while. The further he got from central Yharnam, the softer the night became.

*Squelch*

Jaune paused mid-step, his foot coming down silently as his body became motionless. He listened intently, his eyes still in his head as he focussed on his other senses. The wind became filtered out until the only noise he could hear was his heartbeat.

*Thu, Thump*

*Thu, Thump*

*Thu, Thump*

*Squelch*

His head jolted upwards, the noise, the sound of flesh being hewn, split, mauled, savaged.

He knew it well.

Whatever was making such a noise was up ahead in the tomb. It seemed his new weapon would soon be put to use.

Steeling his spirit, Jaune pressed on, coming to the top of the stairs and the large stone arch that was the entrance to the old tomb. Already he could see the tombstones and dead trees that decorated the cemetery, giving a general sense of ruin.

A towering cemetery statue took up the centre of the area. An important figure maybe, or perhaps even the Oedon the tomb was named for.

*Squelch*

Thoughts for later. He pressed on silently; his mind focused on the present.

His eyes quickly turned to the source of the noise, the few lanterns in the graveyard casting pitiful light, but compared to the sewers, they were ample.

Jaune saw a figure, a man, his back to Jaune and his arm raised above his head. Held aloft in his grasp was a mighty axe.

*Squelch*

Blood arched up as the stranger brought the weapon down. But, as swiftly as it sunk into still bloody meat, the stranger was already yanking his weapon free and lifting it high again without so much as a pause.

Jaune heard a low throaty growly creep out as the man swung down again into his quarry.

*Squelch*

The weapon bit deep and splattered more crimson blood into the air; this time though, rather than immediately lifting the axe, the man pulled back on it, slicing into his prey. Evidently, this was enough to satisfy as Jaune heard the growl in his throat become a pant that transformed into a sigh.

“… Beasts all over the shop…”

Jaune paused in his approach. Unsure if the man was addressing him or if he was simply uttering words to himself.

“… You’ll be one of them, sooner or later…”

Jaune found himself frowning, not at the man’s words as they were as sensible as the rest of the ravings he had listened to. Instead, it was his voice that drew him up short.

The man had an accent.

“… You’re an outsider,” Jaune breathed, surprised to find another one, let alone one out and about instead of safely secured away like Gilbert.

Jaune watched as the man, dressed in black, and wearing a wide-brimmed hat, turned to face him. The dingy scarf about his neck fluttered at his movements, its light pale fabric stained and worn. Then, slowly, the light of the nearby lanterns cast their glow on the man’s face.

Hair, like grey yarn, hung over his face; at first, Jaune thought it covered his face entirely, but then it was revealed that the man had gauze wrapped about his eyes. This earned a quirked brow, but when the man opened his mouth, a sense of finality settled on him.

His scraggly beard-coated jaw opened, revealing a healthy set of teeth with sharp, prominent canines.

A foul breathy hiss poured out of his maw, his breath coming out in a warm cloud as he bared his fangs.

Then Jaune’s nose caught a scent.

His body tensed, and his blood began to stir as his heartbeat accelerated.

‘That smell…’

Jaune realised he should have paid attention to the man’s other hand.

He held a firearm, a pistol.

A Hunter’s Pistol.

That scent Jaune caught in the wind; now he recognised it.

This was Hunter.

“Oh no.”

The Hunter dressed in black took off like a bullet, charging straight at Jaune like a starved predator.

“Dammit, all!” Jaune hissed quickly, drawing his own firearm on the dashing Hunter.

Soon the night was filled with gunfire and the clash of steel.

Amidst the horror, a new frenzy stirred… Hunter against Hunter.

YVYVYVYVY

Jade awoke groggily, her eyes feeling especially heavy as she cast off the last grips of slumber. The light was already beating heavily against her curtains, indicating it was well into the morning. With a grumble, she turned over, putting the light to her back as she considered falling back asleep.

But it was too late; her body would not let her.

Although her sleep had been restless and not at all satisfying, Jade couldn’t bring herself to fall back into it. Her stomach rumbling nosily was the last straw, and with a disgruntled groan, she threw off her blankets and finally got out of bed.

Downstairs was a typical weekend morning in the Arc household.

‘Well, almost typical,’ Jade thought as she poured herself some breakfast juice taking stock of her surroundings.

Sky and the twins were in the loungeroom watching some colourful cartoon on TV. She was too tired to pay it any more mind than that. Scarlett was also in the loungeroom, but she was on her Scroll messaging someone; she had a slight, recognisable smirk on her face, so chances were it was her new boyfriend.

Saphron was in the kitchen watching some sports tournament on her scroll while eating her breakfast. Her eyes never left her Scroll as she took bites from her toast. It was a wonder she avoided biting her fingers.

Hella was the only parent in the house and was also at the table reading something on her Scroll while enjoying the substance she had the audacity to call coffee. Their dad was probably still at work.

It was an entirely mundane morning.

But it was still lacking.

Jade found herself sighing as she took another sip of her juice, pulling up a seat at the kitchen table and digging into her breakfast lazily.

She missed Jaune.

She knew she wasn’t the only one either, she wasn’t a narcissist, but for some reason, it was hitting her especially hard that morning.

“Jade… You feeling ok?” Her mother questioned, placing down her Scroll to give Jade her full attention.

“Yeah, ma, just missing Jaune is all.”

Hella gave an understanding nod, as she, too, had been feeling Jaune’s absence as well as of late. She had the whole day off today and usually spent some of it in the training yard with her only son.

Hella stood up and moved to embrace her. Jade eagerly leaned into the embrace, enjoying her mother’s comfort and appreciating the effort.

“He’s doing fine, we get regular updates, and Orr is more than capable of keeping your brother safe,” Hella spoke, her head resting against Jade’s colourful locks; the dye in her hair had faded somewhat, making the green strip blend slightly with the rest of her hair.

“I know,” Jade shrugged.

Hella was about to say something, but the front door’s opening stopped her as Cloud’s booming voice rang out in greeting. “I’m home!”

“Hey, Dad!”

“Daddy!”

“Hey, pops!”

Cloud entered the kitchen wearing only half his armour with Hrunting held tightly to his side. Ever since he underwent his significant upgrade, he rarely put on the heavier parts of his suit, instead keeping only his greaves and gauntlets equipped for the most part.

He hadn’t adorned his full armour since Jaune left since he outright refused to leave Reach until his son returned.

“Morning love,” Hella greeted her husband, quickly pecking his cheek as he sat down, taking Hrunting from his hands. “Good shift?”

“It would have been great, but I think Franky is mad at me,” Cloud grunted, his hands coming down to his waist and pulling his shirt off. Only then did Jade notice it was inside out; as soon as he pulled it up, she realised why.

“… Paintballs?” Hella asked, shooting her husband a restrained, amused look.

“Crazy old bat rigged a claymore on my desk loaded with the things.”

“That was nice of her,” Hella smirked.

Cloud gave his wife an exaggerated betrayed look as he turned his shirt around, showing a huge scorch mark on the fabric.

“Hmm, did your office survive?”

“It was a very directional blast,” Cloud hmphed, tossing the ruined shirt into the nearby bin.

“Good job protecting your hair, or we would have had two rainbow Arcs,” Hella joked, smiling at Jade.

“Eh, I could pull it off,” Cloud bragged, winking at Jade.

“I don’t know, Dad, isn’t your usual get-up all greys and whites?”

“A good canvas, eh?”

Jade giggled at this remembering when she said the same thing when she wanted to paint her dad's armour. She had done it a few times, but her work never lasted as Cloud’s armour underwent extensive cleaning and checks.

Still, she occasionally drew some flowers on it to brighten the dreary thing up.

Having removed the ruined shirt and his gauntlets, Cloud rose out of his chair and began making breakfast. Jade found her eyes resting on her dad’s, especially broad back.

Or, more accurately, the tattoo that covered it almost entirely.

It was strange. Jade had seen it many times; naturally, with her interest in art, she had always been curious about the tapestry her father had etched onto his flesh. But now older and more aware of the importance her father and brother put on their ancestry…

She saw it in a new light.

“… Hey pops… your tattoo, is that an old Arc clan thing?” Jade asked, her eyes following a flowing branch that curled over his shoulder.

“Aye, it is,” Cloud answered, gathering his massive breakfast.

“So… does that mean Jaune is gonna get one?” Jade pressed.

“Well yeah, if he wants one when he gets back,” Cloud replied, moving his massive breakfast over to the table. A large stack of toast, an actual jug of fruit juice, two bowls of cereal and some cold sausages he cooked the other day.

A light breakfast.

“Wait, Jaune is getting a tat?” Saphron suddenly piped up, her eyes wide as she looked at her father.

“Yes, eventually, if he should want one,” Hella said, returning to the kitchen after putting Hrunting away.

“Can I get one!” Saph asked, looking to her parents, face awash with eager hope.

“Sure, when you are old enough and can afford one, that’s your decision, love,” Hella answered with a shrug.

The hope faded.

“But what about Jaune?” Saphron exclaimed.

“Ask your father,” Hella instructed, sipping her black caffeinated ichor.

Saph turned to Cloud, who was suddenly looking an awful lot like a paralysed deer with toast halfway to his mouth. Then, with a sigh, he plopped his breakfast back down and crossed his arms. “It’s another old Arc tradition, though many slayer clans held it.”

“So… as an Arc-“

“It’s for members who undergo the First Rite,” Cloud cut Saph off with a smile, “good try though.”

“So what? I go camping for a month with a hot older woman, and then I can get a tat… sign me up,” Saph announces happily.

Cloud’s smile grew wider as his head slowly rolled over to his wife.

Hella’s face was her usual cold mask, but her eyes were pinning her second eldest with a dangerous look.

“Honey, it seems you have a new student,” Cloud chuckled.

“What fun,” Hella commented.

Sahpron was suddenly far less eager. “Wait, I said I wanna do the whole camping thing, not get the shit-“

“Language.”

“Kicked out of me by mum.”

Cloud shrugged, “well yeah, but see, here’s the thing, Jaune, who was already a scarily competent combatant, had to be absolutely manhandled by your mother for weeks before she said yes… so what makes you think you’re gonna get away with it.”

“… Screw it, I can wait, hell if we lived in Mistral, I could have gotten one already,” Saph shrugged, deciding that training with Hella was not in her best interest.

“What we talkin’ about,” Scarlett asked, poking her head into the kitchen.

“Fighting mum,” Jade answered.

“Pfft, fu- I mean… yeah, no,” Scarlett finished running off.

Hella’s eyes followed her fleeing eldest with a smile, “smart girl.”

Jade, wanting to return to the original topic, suddenly said, “so what’s it for?”

Cloud, about halfway through his breakfast, stopped again to look at Jade, who had a stubborn frown on her face. “Pardon?”

“The tattoo, what’s the tradition?”

“Oh! Traditionally, any child who underwent the Rite and surv-… passed,” Cloud coughed, barely catching his near slip.

Hella looked less than impressed.

“… Well, upon their return, they would be granted permission by either the chief or clan head to inscribe the symbolism of their people on their flesh. It’s one of the oldest traits of our people, and you can find numerous historical works that go into great detail about what different marauders would have inscribed on their flesh.”

Jade suddenly felt she might have inadvertently stumbled onto a topic that would make her dad nerd out. She was very quickly proven correct.

“Arc’s are no different, and historians have even used several of our members as examples of this practice. The family library has several books on the topic, but the best source is our clan tome. It lists our traditions and caries, the history of the practice within our family, stuff like internal symbolism and the positioning of the designs and whatnot.” Cloud lectured his food forgotten as he got absorbed in his lecture, excited that another one of his children was showing an interest in their ancestry.

“… So, how about yours?” Jade pressed, hoping her dad would give her an example.

Cloud paused momentarily before scooping up his juice and a piece of toast before sitting backwards in the chair, his arms resting on the backrest. “Right… so first, mine is on my back and only my back. The reason being that in our traditions, this symbolises structure, stability, wholeness, and when I got it done, those were things… those were things I really needed at the time.”

“Ok, would it be the same for any back tattoo?” Jade asked.

“Yes and no, mine kind of takes it to the extreme because it’s all on my back and covers a lot of it, so in a way, I’m almost actively pursuing the symbolism. If I did it to a lesser extent, the meaning could shift or even bleed with another, but if you wanna know that much, I’d recommend reading our clan tome.”

“The one in Mæli?” Jade deadpanned.

Cloud just shrugged, his back muscles shifting as he did so. “Hey, kiddo, you asked, besides there is a decent translation diary in the library and an app on the family database you can use.”

The groan Jade let out was prolonged and exaggerated.

“Dad, not all of us can be massive nerds,” Saph said in her sister’s defence.

Cloud seemed to sigh at this, “I suppose one out of seven is not terrible odds, but still, is it too much to ask for another history kid?”

Hella’s mirth, while silent, was profound.

“All right, well, what is it supposed to be?” Jade asked, becoming frustrated at the deviations from her questions.

“What is what supposed to be? There is a bunch of stuff back there kiddo, be specific,” Cloud instructed, not knowing what part she was asking about.

“No, like the whole thing… I can tell there is a connective theme, the overall shape… this is all meant to be one thing, right?” Jade elucidated, reaching out and tracing along the outer space of her father’s tattoo.

‘Dad’s back is really hard’, Jade observed as her finger traced over his skin and the coiled muscle beneath, following the edge of his tattoo.

“… Huh, not everyone picks up on that… my clever girl,” Cloud complimented, smiling down at Jade, who returned his enthusiasm with a beaming grin. “Well, my little artist, it’s a legend stone.”

“A legend stone?”

“Yes, they were these massive pieces of stone that our ancestors would carve up and inscribe our culture on… they were huge, whole tribes would work on them sometimes, and they were basically stone libraries inscribed with our culture, history, law… they were icons of our ways,” Cloud explained his eyes gaining a far off quality as he thought back on the long-since-lost history of ancient Solitas.

“How big were they?” Jade asked excitedly, her love for art being front and centre.

“… Some were only as tall as a man… others… we have found fragments of legend stones as big as cars, just fragments, mind you.” Cloud explained, finishing his juice and placing the cup on the bench. “It is written that once upon a time there were some the size of mountains, carved from cliffs and made into monuments, that people all over Solitas could look to for guidance.”

“Wow… so you’re tattoo is meant to be one?”

“Yep… a monument, a legend, something carved in stone,” Cloud chuckled. “A masterpiece…” He said, his voice softer, more fond perhaps.

“Who did it?” Jade asked, her hands trailing along the bottom of the design, where broken masks piled around three shields and a familiar sword.

“… You’re grandma; she was also an amazing artist,” Cloud boasted.

Jade lit up like nothing else. Her eyes almost doubled in size, and Saphron to seemed to sit up straighter at this surprising news. Hella just smiled, knowing how precious these memories were to her husband.

“Wha- Really! Grandma was an artist!” Jade exploded, running around to face her father, all but vibrating on the spot.

“Oh yeah… though she liked to call herself an artisan, there was nothing she couldn’t make… she was gifted like that,” Cloud reminisced.

“So, did she draw all of it?” Jade interrogated, hopping from foot to foot.

“Almost after she passed, I got a dear friend of hers to do touch-ups and some small additions… why don’t you see if you can guess?” Cloud teased, jutting a thumb over his shoulder.

Jade was a tiny blonde blur.

The room was silent for a moment, Saphron and Hella sharing meaningful looks as Jade closely inspected her father’s back, examining the expansive piece of work. After a whole minute of quiet, she finally spoke up.

“… The flowers… on the tree that goes up your spine… they are each of us, right?” Jade enquires, poking the colourful points on the otherwise navy blue tattoo.

“Excellent, Jade… Only Scarlett’s flower was done by your grandma, but her friend makes sure never to deviate from her design.”

“… Jaune,” Jade mumbled, her fingers brushing across the yellow flower entwined about the bough of the strange twisted tree. Then her eyes followed the design, and the pieces started to fall into place.

“The tree is Mum!”

“That’s right,” Hella nodded.

“… Then that means…” Jade suddenly dragged a chair next to her father; even though she was on the cusp of adolescence, her father was just too damn tall, and thus she needed a chair to see the top of his back.

“This… is the family crest and this… this is Beacon, right?” Jade asked, partially hanging over her father.

“Mmhmm, that’s the central tower,” Cloud nodded.

“Wow!”

This continued for a while, with Jade asking questions and Cloud giving short responses; even Saphron asked about one or two designs. Eventually, Hella departed to check on the twins and Sky, Saphron also heading off, her interest in her dad’s tattoo fading as her Scroll buzzed and stole her attention.

With the others gone, Jade found her examination coming to a halt as she felt emboldened by their privacy to ask her father another question instead.

“…Hey, Dad,” she started hesitantly, her hands pulling away from her father’s back.

“What’s up, sweety?” Cloud asked curiously, having heard the shift in his daughter’s tone.

“Did you enjoy your ‘rite’ thing?” Jade asked, sitting down on her chair.

Cloud, not having expected the question took his time replying, hiding his internal thoughts by moving about in his seat to face his daughter.

“Truthfully… no,” Cloud answered, his words blunt as he decided to be honest with his daughter.

Jade seemed surprised by his answer; her shocked look was replaced with a frown as she quickly spoke, “then why would you let Jaune go?”

“Because he wanted to,” Cloud answered.

“But if you didn’t like it, why would Jaune?” Jade angrily enquired, her frustrations growing.

“Jade, darling…” Cloud sighed, taking a deep breath as he thought of how best to discuss this with his pre-teen daughter. “Firstly, ‘The First Quest’ isn’t meant to be enjoyable… it’s a challenge that is meant to be undertaken and overcome. Jaune isn’t doing it to have fun, baby girl, and trust me. He knows all this.”

“But-“

“Ah, I wasn’t finished yet,” Cloud spoke sternly, his hand raised, halting Jade as she pouted at being cut off. “Secondly, Jaune and I are not the same… I was very different when I was his age and, more importantly….”

“Dad?”

Cloud gave a defeated sigh, his whole body slumping in his chair. “… Jade, I didn’t want to do the whole rite of passage thing. I was forced into, quite literally, mind you,” Cloud admitted. “Jaune, he wanted to do it and was prepared for it. And don’t forget he fought to go on it… again literally thanks to your mother.”

“You didn’t want to?” Jade whispered, her confusion apparent. For his part, Cloud could only shake his head, not wanting to dump a whole bunch of emotional baggage from his past on his kid.

“But you seem to be all about this family history and stuff?” Jade pointed out, bringing her legs up to her chest and hugging them tightly.

“… I am proud of the Arc name and our history. I love history; the treasures of the past have always been a fascination of mine since I was even smaller than you. But I wasn’t given a choice on whether or not I wanted to do ‘The First Quest’. I just woke up in the woods with my brothers-“

Cloud cut himself off as a bit of his old anger began to flare up, and he had no wish to let his daughter catch even a glimpse of it. “… The Arc name is important to me, Jade. But not nearly as important as my actual family. I never wanted any of you kids to feel boxed in by our name.”

“Boxed in?” Jade mumbled.

“Eh, don’t worry about it. Now, your dad needs a break… if you want to know more, check out some of the books in our library, ok?”

“Yeah, ok, love you,” Jade waved as she left the kitchen.

She would go on to spend the day playing with her sisters, watching tv, building a pillow fort on top of her sleeping father and numerous other things kids got up to on their weekend.

But despite this, she couldn’t stop thinking about her old man’s tattoo. More importantly, she couldn’t get rid of the idea of Jaune having one.

That night, Cloud and Hella would find their youngest flicking through a book titled ‘The Ancient Symbols of Solitas’ in the corner of the library. Next to her was a sketchbook, and while the book wasn’t in Mæli, she had her Scroll with the translation dictionary open and waiting.

She would fall asleep in that library, Hella throwing a blanket over her and giving her a pillow.

She would dream in that library.

About ink and blood.

YVYVYVYVY

Death.

A gunshot sent hot metal piercing through his skull and splattering his brains inside his head.

Life.

A mighty axe swing that he tried his best to block. Instead, he found his weapon beaten back and his heart obliterated by the mad Hunter’s strength.

Death.

He was lying broken on the floor, his fingers gripping a bloody stump ineffectively as he screamed through grit teeth, his other arm mere feet from him, detached, severed.

Life.

White-hot and searing pellets ripped through his chest, perforating organs and clipping bone. He collapsed, body screaming in pain as his muscles failed. The last thing he heard was a crack as his neck was snapped from impacting a tombstone.

Death

The axe drove into his gut, devastating his lower body.

He tried to shoot his pistol; point blank range, he couldn’t miss.

His hand was crushed, his wrist snapped, and his firearm tossed aside.

The monster of a Hunter heaved him up on his transformed axe, pivoted with him, held aloft, and brought him down into the cold ground. Any organ that was still whole ruptured as bones splintered and compressed beneath the massive force.

His vision was darkening, death closing in.

The axe was on his throat, a moment to measure before it was lifted, raised to strike again at his exposed throat.

A pause.

“Too proud to show your true face, eh…”

A gurgle, spluttering and pitiful, his lungs expelling the last of his air as he uses his fading strength to stare balefully at his killer.

His killer just bares his teeth. Grin or snarl, his vision was too gone to tell.

“But a sporting hunt it was.”

His head is severed, darkness taking him as his life ends.

…

Only to open his eyes once more, alive and whole.

But not the same.

Never the same.

Death was not without consequence, and every time Jaune fell, only to rise again, he knew that something within him was different.

First was the immediate.

His mind was scrambled, thoughts in disarray as memories and feeling swarmed and swirled like an ocean stirred by a storm. Pain, fear, rage, and loss all battled inside his mind as he pulled himself back together like picking up broken glass with bare hands.

Suffering to make him whole.

This was the immediate. The awakening, as it were. Where he would recover from his mortal end and reclaim his senses. The experience was never easy, filled with gasping breath, phantom aches, gut-wrenching nausea and wretched sobs.

Or worse.

Nothing.

Numbness, void, absence.

These scared him worse than any sufferance. The idea that he might be changing from his countless deaths, adapting to them, becoming… used to them. It was terrible to consider because death was horrifying, and for it to not be defied reason.

That way laid madness.

Afterwards, he would pick himself up, accept what little comfort one of the Messengers would offer him and begin his decompression process.

His notebook would be swiftly filled with thoughts, ideas, strategies and anything else his mind saw fit to put to paper. It was crucial that he do so, and this method helped him conquer the Cleric Beast.

Now it would help him best this Blood-drunk Hunter.

He had fought him numerous times, and by the grace of whatever power reconstituted his body and life, he had trained himself against him multiple times.

The mad Hunter was strong, his weapon of choice aiding as the axe’s blows were brutal. Its transformed state was plain but practical, the additional reach it could come to wield catching him as he backstepped more than once.

His weapon was no ordinary Hunter Pistol; modified, it functioned more like a blunderbuss and was lethal. Its spray of ammunition tore apart flesh readily and with ease, the area it covered making it a chore to dodge.

Then there was the Hunter himself. Blood-drunk and crazed, he may be, but he was a Hunter, true. He pursued Jaune furiously, attacked relentlessly, and was merciless in the killing.

Speed, strength, technique. He had all three spurned on by his savage madness.

But… Jaune had bled him.

Jaune could not hope to best this Hunter as he had the Cleric Beast. It would not be warded away with flame and luck. No, he was far too skilled for, but a single lucky blow to fell him, and Jaune could see no weakness to bring him low.

This would be Hunter against Hunter.

Jaune would win.

He had to.

He had to press on.

…

Even if he now struggled to recall why.

…

‘It’s just my last death, rattling me a bit…’ he reasoned, his traitorous thoughts sounding terribly insincere.

Casting off doubt, he pulled himself up, ready to march into the fray again. And he would do so again should he fall… he would keep doing so as many times as needed.

YVYVYVYVY

Time passed.

But Jade didn’t pay it any heed.

She was lost in a world of script and runes, her hands stained with castoff from her pencils and pens. She had forsworn two books and now had some mismatched folder that was, in truth, two scrapbooks, numerous loose pages from other booklets and at least half a book’s worth of printouts.

In the folder, it was intimidating.

On the floor, spread out so that it took up the entire library…

“Well shit… looks like we lost another one,” Scalrett announced, standing in the library doorway looking down on her sister, who was scribbling something on her arm. Sadly, Scarlett startled her into making a mistake as she let out a vicious hiss throwing her pen at the ground.

“Dammit! Scar, I was in the middle of something!” Jade complained loudly.

“I can see that… are you ok? This looks like… well, honestly, it looks kinda bad, sis.” Scar admitted seeing the chaos over the floor, numerous leaflets of paper, multiple open books, and her Scroll open on a picture of some yellowed paper with etchings on it.

“What? I’m just working on a new art piece, don’t worry about it.”

“… Jade, this looks like you are trying to uncover the secrets of some ancient lost empire?” Scarlett bit out, crouching down and looking over some of her sketches.

They were… Scarlett was torn. On the one hand, the image was confusing, and she didn’t know what to make of it, but the picture was captivating. The shapes and lines pulled her in, the swirling depiction of what looked like two crows fighting as their bodies rained ink onto a symbol.

But that’s where it lost cohesion.

The symbol was a smudged-out scribbled mess. Jade had rubbed it out so many times that the paper looked worn to the brink of tearing.

Scarlett had always known Jade loved art but had no idea she had improved by such leaps. This was multitudes better than her work from only a month prior. If nothing else, her new project undoubtedly encouraged her to better her craft.

“Oi, leave that! it’s a rough design, but I still wanna use it!” Jade hissed, getting up from her spot and dancing around her spread-out work to grab her paper.

“… Can you read this?” Scarlett asked, pointing at a couple of words written in Mæli.

Jade just flushed red, “yes!”

“What does it say? You have it written everywhere...” Scarlett observed looking at the reoccurring word that was over numerous sheets.

“…”

“Oh, come on, it can’t be worse than what I’m already seeing; I’m half expecting to open one of those books and find a thread map,” Scarlett jested, trying to get an answer from her younger sister.

“… It… is a rough translation of Jaune’s name…” Jade mumbled out.

Scarlett went silent, needing a moment to process this new information. Suddenly things clicked, and Scarlett met her younger sister’s gaze with her own.

“You mean this is all about Jaune? The reason you’ve been all wrapped up in your own world… oh my gods, you even get absorbed into things like he does! Seriously, I swear that has to come from Dad’s side, your just as big a nerd as the boys, only about art!” Scarlett began to laugh.

Jade was red as her emotions rose, pinking her cheeks and ears. Not knowing how to handle her sister’s laughter, she played it safe and went with indignation. “Yeah, well, so what! Why are you even up here bothering me in the first place!”

Scarlett laughed momentarily, choking out her reply between chuckles, “Mum and Dad are worried, you goof.”

“Huh?”

Scarlett sighed, her smile still apparent but her mirth under control as she gently guided Jade to turn around and look back into the library. “Pretend for a second that… hmm, let us say instead of your art, these pictures were covered in pictures of… sports or sheet music? What would you think then?”

Jade looked between her sister and the library, her eyes confused, but a directional nod from Scarlett and an emotive look had her look over the room with new eyes.

And then it hit her like a slap in the face.

“… Oh.”

“Yes, oh. Congrats, sis; as I said, you’re more like Jaune than we realised; you have an obsessive side.”

Jade sobered up, her mind taking in her works spread across the floor like the crazed raving of a mad woman. It was messy, disorganised, and honestly, it made her want to cry as she was confronted with the struggle that had consumed her for… a month? She couldn’t remember.

“Hey, hey, I thought you loved Jaune? Why the tears?” Scarlett suddenly cried out, worried about her sister’s suddenly upset face.

Jade rubbed her eyes with the heel of her palms as she let out a prolonged, annoyed groan. “This wasn’t supposed to be this hard!”

“What? Hey, it looks good, sis, like really good,” Scarlett complimented, picking up the same sheet of paper from before. “This looks like it’s flying right off the page… honestly it’s a little scary….”

“Mm,” Jade said in response when she actually wanted to say, ‘try seeing it in your dreams for nights on end.’

“What’s wrong with it?” Scarlett pressed, not liking that her sister was still on the edge of tears. “Why is this stressing you out so much, Jade?”

Jade took the paper from Scarlett; her lips pursed as she examined the picture. She was critical sure, but even she knew that the picture was great compared to her old work… she had put in a lot of effort lately, and she never wanted for inspiration. The image, while rough, was good, but it was only half the work; it was meant to bind and flow with the symbol below, but the character wasn’t right.

Why wasn’t it right?

She had no gods forsaken idea.

She had tried several iterations and flicked through the entire Mæli dictionary. She tried runes, symbols, and script.

But… it didn’t work.

She was missing something, and it was eating at her.

When she slept, she saw images and symbols that were concealed in fog and moonlight mirages over and over. Each time she awoke, she felt drained and worst of all, she felt a terrible physical yearning for her brother because she never awoke tired when he was nearby.

It was as if bad dreams were terrified of her brother.

After a while of contemplation, Jade responded to her sister’s question, “I-…It’s not right. It’s like I can only get half of what I want on paper before my ideas scramble themselves and… It’s fucking frustrating!”

“Language,” Scarlett admonished half-heartedly, knowing their parents would disapprove. She missed her sister flipping her off because she bent over and began to rummage through the papers, noticing that what Jade said was scarily accurate.

It was like every piece was missing massive spots. Entire spaces were just blank or, worse, showed signs of being erased or scratched out multiple times.

Closer to Jade’s scroll Scarlett saw in one of her whole books printouts of arms and legs with images etched on them. Then looking back at Jade’s arm Scarlett realised what she was looking at as a whole.

“These are tattoo designs,” she breathed, looking over her shoulder at her sibling.

“Yes… it’s an old slayer thing, but when they came back from their ‘First Quest’, they would be allowed to get them and-“

“You’re designing one for Jaune!” Scarlett proclaimed excitedly as if she had solved some great puzzle.

“… Yes, proud of yourself there, detective?”

“Oh hush, this is the most interesting thing that’s happened in months,” Scarlett admitted leafing through more of Jade’s work.

“Don’t you have a new boyfriend?” Jade voiced, walking past Scarlett to an old tome that her father had recommended. It was titled the ‘Edda of Skrymer’, and supposedly it was a favourite of her older brother.

“Mm, yes, but I’m still training him… its a lot of work,” Scarlett replied with a smile that was just icky to Jade.

“… I will tell Mum and Dad how gross you are being,” Jade warned, flicking to a page that told of a Slayer’s fight with a Grimm.

“Pfft, please, you know that as bad as I am, they are worse,” Scarlett countered.

Jade was ready, though, “fine, I will just tell Jaune, all about your new boyfriend when he gets back then.”

This made Scarlett go rigid.

“You cheeky little… don’t you say anything, I will handle that matter, and if you let slip anything, I will force-feed you your own crayons,” Scarlett threatened.

“Jokes on you. I like the purple ones,” Jade snorted at her joke.

This got a full-on cackle from Scarlett, “heresy! Green forever!”

Both girls descended into fits of mirthful laughter. But as their amusement died, Jade was again confronted with her struggle, and her ire grew anew. She needed help.

“Scar?”

“Yeah? What’s up, lil sis?

“What am I missing? What do I need… what am I missing! I want this to be perfect; I want Jaune to come home and, and… And I wanna support him, I guess,” Jade gave up with a slump throwing herself back into the library couch.

“Damn, you’ve really gone and worked yourself up, huh?” Scarlett observed, still admiring her younger sibling’s work.

Some of the stuff she saw was haunting, but even she could admit that all of it was very in tune with her super serious younger brother. She found herself admiring one piece in particular; it was a moon, but unlike Remnant’s, it wasn’t shattered; instead, it was wounded, slashed and mauled with weeping wounds that spilled onto Mæli she couldn’t hope to understand.

“I like that one,” Jade voiced, changing the subject away from her frustrations. “It’s inspired by a story Jaune told me. It was about a hungry moon and a monster.”

“… Yeah, I know it,” Scarlett muttered, remembering the tale Jade was talking about. More accurately, she remembered just how into it Jaune got, how his eyes almost seemed to be looking at something that wasn’t there.

She dragged her hands to the top where it was written, ‘and the fool did see. That amidst the Hunter, the Moon and the Monster… There was no difference.’ Beneath the quote from Jaune were notes and scribbles in Mæli that were linked to the script surrounding the image of the bleeding moon.

“It’s still incomplete…” Jade sulked.

It seemed that it all came back to Jaune, and while she could give the same spiel about how he would be back soon enough and that everyone was missing him… she had a better idea. Clearing her throat, Scarlett handed Jade back her art book before crossing her arms and making sure not to make direct eye contact with her younger sister.

“So… this is all for Jaune, right?” Scarlett asked again, not looking at her younger sister.

“…Duh,” Jade mocked.

“I mean, all the stuff is related to him, right, like the design is supposed to be about him, right?” Scarlett pressed, choosing to ignore the younger girl’s sass.

“Well yeah, I guess… some of the stuff is just like meant to be like cultural symbols and stuff, but there are still meant to be connections to Jaune himself,” Jade nodded.

“Then… why not check out his room,” Scarlett shrugged.

Jade’s face scrunched up as she glared at her older sister. “Because I don’t think he would appreciate me sneaking into his room and rummaging through his stuff,” Jade argued.

“Well… yeah, but you aren’t going in there to be a turd; you are doing it to help with your whole gift thing. Look, maybe take a peak inside, get some inspiration, y’know. I’m not telling you to go in there and trash the place,” Scarlett huffed, her arms coming uncrossed as she turned away.

“But he’ll know!”

Scarlett paused and turned back, “well yeah, I’m not saying to hide it from him, just to look for inspiration. Look, I was just sent to ensure you weren’t ripping your hair out, so do me a favour and stop if it becomes too much, all right?”

“… Yeah, ok,” Jade agreed, pulling some papers into her lap.

“Cool, see ya,” Scarlett called back as she departed, already planning to tell her father what Jade had been up to so he could at least read the Mæli parts.

Jade sat in the quiet library for an unknown time, her eyes not looking at anything so much as they glossed over everything. She continued to sit and stew on her sister’s words for more time as she thought over her advice.

Eventually, she heard a call for dinner, her father’s deep voice booming as he summoned all the girls to the table. Jade’s stomach took this moment to remind her of how empty it was, so she made haste to go and eat. Perhaps a full stomach would give her some much-needed clarity on things.

“Hurghhhh!”

Jade whipped around so fast she stumbled and smacked into the door frame, her eyes whipping about wildly for the source of the loud groan she had just heard. Her hand came up to clutch at her chest, where her rapidly beating heart was just one sign of how badly she had been shocked by the sudden cry.

Panting, she licked her dry lips and straightened her back. She stood there; muscles tensed, ready to explode into motion at the slightest sign of danger. But eventually, her body settled, the hairs on the back of her neck laid flat, and her breathing resumed a calmer pace. There was nothing, just the same library she had been sitting in for hours and with a sigh, she turned and made her way to the dinner waiting for her in the kitchen.

As she left, already berating her scattered mind for its foolishness, she switched the light off and left the library entombed in the dark.

In the dark, paper fluttered, etching moved, and something observed works of art with a curious hum.

Its thoughts were alien, but to those blessed with the Insight needed to know their nature, utterly comprehensible.

After all… they enjoy giving their Hunter gifts.

YVYVYVYVY

“AGHRH!”

*Crash*

Stone exploded outwards as the beastly Hunter’s axe sundered a tombstone, reducing it to rubble and dust, Jaune having dodged said blow by the merest of margins.

Jaune was a mess. His body was bathed in blood, his clothes laden with the substance, tears and rips covered his coat, and there was a large slash on his pant leg where it had nearly been severed. But not all the blood was his.

And that was the source of his grizzled smile.

This savage Hunter, this madden slaughterer, was as bloody as he was.

The gauze about their eyes was stained red, their ashen hair much the same shade. Their cape was torn right down the middle, their coat filled with holes, some of which still sizzled. The dingy scarf about his throat was so drenched in his filthy blood that it no longer fluttered as he moved.

Each of them left red in their wake.

And it filled Jaune with savage hope.

He rolled over another tombstone, crouching behind it as a gunshot ripped through the air. The shrapnel of his opponent’s firearm chipped away at his cover. He was just as quick to retaliate.

He dashed out as the Hunter loaded his weapon, his modified Hunter Pistol still broken open, his hand quickly placing another round.

But not quick enough.

Jaune flicked his weapon, gyrating his wrist and letting a bit of savagery show on his face as his new weapon, which appeared to be a simple cane, transformed.

The segments along its body separated, unlocking and flicking open to become tiny diamond-shaped teeth. A corded metal thread ran down the centre connecting them, turning a weapon designed to bludgeon and beat into one that shredded and tore at flesh with bitting jagged bits.

With a flourish, he whipped his weapon over his head, the blade sown thread coiling above him as he launched it forward.

The Threaded Cane, aptly named as it was, tore up the Blood-drunk Hunter’s arm, severing tendons and muscles.

His gun hit the floor, fingers unable to grip it.

Jaune charged.

He could not beat the crazed man in strength, not to mention that he was larger than him by a substantial amount. Jaune only reached the man’s chest. But in speed, with the size difference between the two.

There Jaune found his footing.

With one arm disabled, Jaune unleashed a storm of swipes that had his threaded can slashing like a blizzard of razors. He stepped, moved, ducked, and dashed, using his greater reach to harry the man and bleed him greedily and viciously.

Blood painted the world around them, practically filling the air with a red haze.

But the insane Hunter powered through it, even uttering insanely as he swiped at Jaune, uncaring for his many wounds.

A berserker lost to his bloodlust.

“Ohh, what’s that smell…” he groaned as he swung his axe back, nearly catching Jaune with the butt of the elongated weapon.

“The sweet blood, ohh, it sings to me!” He said elatedly, a beaming smile on his face, blood gushing from a gash on his cheek as he lunged at Jaune. His axe cracked the ground as he missed another swipe, the wind battering against Jaune’s frayed coat.

“It’s enough to make a man sick.” He spat, blood flecking his teeth as he shifted his axe and spun it about.

Jaune was too slow.

The shaft hooked him in the ribs, breaking them instantly and hurling him away. He crashed through more tombstones; his body racked with pain as the architecture was demolished, his form rolling to a halt breathless.

The maddened Hunter guffawed loudly.

Jaune spat into the dirt, a Blood Vial already stabbed into his gut as he heaved himself back to his feet. With a quick stamp of his Threaded Cane, the trick weapon closed up, returning to its original form.

This was it.

Jaune could see it, the crazed monster in front of him, while too lost to know the state of his own body was on the precipice. Blood pooled at his very feet, and not a single part of his body was not in some way harmed.

All that was needed.

Was a final push.

Jaune crouched low and dashed at his prey, his cane drawn back, ready to thrust forward. His other hand freed his pistol, a Quicksilver Bullet chambered and ready.

The crazed Hunter let loose a guttural groan as he hauled his weapon over his shoulder, aiming to sweep Jaune aside with a swipe.

Jaune slid.

The axe missed soaring above Jaune as he slid through a puddle of spilled crimson.

He placed his feet, his hips pivoting as he thrust his whole body behind his cane, driving that pointed end into its target.

He struck true, his weapon sinking into the space behind the patella, cartilage breaking beneath his attack as the weapon destroyed the knee.

Jaune pulled, his momentum shifted, and he heaved himself up into a crouch in a show of pure dexterity.

He pulled his weapon free mid-motion, twisting in a release of corrupted blood as the now twice-maimed Hunter jerked back.

His axe was descending.

Jaune’s pistol fired.

Flesh exploded as a Quicksilver bullet pierced through the bellowing man’s throat.

Jaune’s hat flew from the axe strike, but his body escaped harm.

The Hunter staggered.

Jaune dropped his cane. His grip on it was unsuited for any functional follow-up. Instead, he lunged his crouched form shooting upwards, his free hand pulled back as he launched headlong into the off-balance form of his foe.

His fingers became the clawed point of a spear. His upper body pulled back, muscles tensed, and he took a single step forward, his face so close he could smell the rancid breath of the Blood-drunk killer.

His hand, as if a bolt, shot straight and true.

A fresh fountain of red erupted as Jaune performed his bloodiest technique, and his hand lanced through the crazed Hunter’s sternum. He felt his curled fingers curl around soft, beating organs, and Jaune squeezed.

The Hunter, mad as they were, screamed.

His face painted red; he made to wrench his arm free…

It was stuck.

Jaune’s arm was clutched in a clawed grip, yellowed fangs smiled at him, and fear gripped his heart.

His mind itched.

He watched as nails, already gnarled and sharp, began to lengthen, thickening as they tore the very digits they were attached to. Incisors grew and distorted, the gums holding them spilling sickly blood from now-darkening veins.

He felt muscles stir, organs that should be obliterated shift around his hand, and bones grate against his forearm.

And he knew…

HE KNEW…

That this was a Beast.

He watched that monstrous throat inhale and the lungs expand in its body.

A roar, a scream, a thunderous explosion.

His ears heard all three before he was robbed of his hearing altogether.

His body was flung away, his back smashing the bark off a tree as he bounced off its trunk and tumbled into the dirt.

His arm screamed in pain, his head swam, and his ears rang.

And when he lifted his head.

He beheld a Beast.

Massive shoulders, bulging as arms now twice as thick, tore through sleaves and unravelled bindings. His clothes clung to his frame as the sudden transformation rendered them asunder. His legs were those of an animal, thick fur pushing through his skin as he walked on the pads of his feet.

And claws.

Thick, monstrous claws fit to maul and eviscerate.

Wild grey hair sprouted from his skull, a knotted mane, loose and whipping about his still concealed eyes. His beard was thicker, hiding some of his vast, veiny neck from sight.

Drool flowed like a stream from an abominable maw. And maw was the word, for to call what it a mouth would be incorrect. It was too wide to open, and the teeth inside were replaced with bulging, gum-splitting, yellow points. Each a different size, each lodged inside its open maw as if hammered into its jaw.

With more effort than expected, June got his arms beneath him, his left still clutching his pistol and his right fumbling for a Blood Vial.

The Beast got on all fours, a howl bellowing from its throat as it leapt into the air, its once human body soaring with ease.

Jaune rolled, feeling rocks bounce off his back as the massive man-shaped beast landed behind him, tearing up the earthen ground.

His wrists hit the edge of some stairs, and he began to crawl, his knees impacting the stone edges painfully as he darted away, desperate for space.

The Beast was on his heels.

The Hunt had shifted once more.

YVYVYVYVY

Jade had sat on Scarlett’s idea for a week.

It turns out a whole week of her already stressed-out mind mixed with a shitty school week would make anything look like a good idea.

So here she was, mopping on her brother’s bed.

It was funny… she sometimes thought of it as her bed.

Jaune had never turned her away, always eager to see her sleep soundly… always there to keep the nightmares at bay.

To ward off the monsters.

Jade flopped back, the sheets were annoyingly clean and the bed made.

Jaune never made his bed, reasoning it was illogical. Even more so, since he took up training, he tended to wake before any of his siblings.

Including the ones who slept in the same bed, be it Sky, Jade or his elder siblings, on the rare occasion they decided to crash in their only brother’s room.

Jade sighed, rolling over to look at Jaune’s bedside table.

‘Clock, charger, lamp… nice, very inspirational’, Jade thought grumpily before rolling back over and seeing the other bedside table.

It was far more interesting, with scrunchies, multiple chargers a lamp with marker drawings on it. There were even some colourful splotches over the piece of furniture. Jade smiled at the sight, a clear sign of Jaune’s love for his sisters as he let them take over portions of his room.

Jade’s smile died. She already knew that about her brother and had plans for the family portion of his slayer marks. She needed help with the symbols, the runes!

Pulling a pillow over her head Jade let out a hoarse scream of frustration.

“GODFORSAKEN RU-“

*THUD*

Jade damn near pissed herself.

The pillow was slowly pulled down, her eye darting about as she looked for the source of the pounding thud she had just heard.

But the room was still, completely the same as it had been only moments before. She couldn’t see anything that could have-

*Thump*

Jade rolled off the bed, scrambling for the door, her back pressing against the solid wood as she kept her eyes glued to the ceiling. The noise had come from the shadows above the wooden beams that separated Jaune’s room from the ceiling.

The setting sun outside cast the room in shadows and dying light.

In that fading glow, she watched a book fall onto her brother’s bed, with the soft flutter of pages singing in the still room.

Jade refused to move at first, still unnerved by the noise in the roof, but curiosity soon took hold of her and driven by the desire, she crawled forward. The book was plain, with a slate grey cover and white pages. It looked like a diary or journal.

“Jaune’s diary?” Jade whispered, seeing the book as some forbidden treasure. She knew her brother, his likes, dislikes even some of his dreams, but she never knew him to keep a journal.

“… Maybe… no!” Jade hissed. With her mind made up, she grabbed the book and made to put it back in its hiding spot. She would not betray Jaune like that, despite it maybe being the solution to her current predicament.

Its pages filled with all the intimate details needed to-

‘No!’

With one hand holding the wooden beam above to steady herself, she rose up on her toes, barely reaching the high point with her hands.

It was then she felt it.

Something was carved into the wood.

“Wha-“

Something brushed over her hand.

Jade let out the most girlish, high-pitched squeal of her life as she flopped onto the bed, the book forgotten falling off the bed as she shook her hand to rid it of the phantom sensation.

“What was that?” Jade shrieked, freaking out as something had just touched her hand. Looking about somewhat frantically, she saw Jaune’s open diary and hissed. This is precisely what she didn’t want to happen.

She moved to close the book, but…

But there was a picture.

Her brother had drawn something.

She froze.

She had to look, but…

“… I’m the worst,” Jade admonished as she pulled the journal over and looked at the picture.

It was a simple drawing; it looked like a simplistic drawing of a tiny figure with arms, a curled squiggled tail, and a little dot for a head.

Jade wanted to know more; there was writing on the page as well… but it was unreadable. It was no language she recognised. Irritation flared in her breast as her curiosity, freshly sparked, was now being denied.

“Dammit, how many languages do you bloody know, Jaune!” Jade growled under her breath, flipping the page.

More foreign writing but another image…

She flipped the page.

Again and again.

And she beheld more and more.

… Gaining Insight into the nature of her brother.

Guidance… for a curious mind.

YVYVYVYVY

A duck spared his skull from a swipe that reduced brick to rubble.

A dive saved him from the chomp of inhuman fangs.

His pistol bucked as he fired another round into the pursuing monster.

It did not even flinch.

A backhand sent him soaring, his body cracking audibly against unyielding stone. How often would he be treated like a chew toy for these monsters? A limp ragdoll to be tossed about by monsters with strength to match their nature.

He struggled to dodge as the Beast pounced its claws raking down the wall he had collided with, tearing into stone with frightful ease.

He could not dodge the elbow that broke his teeth and devastated his nose. He was sent sprawling, his battered body rolling off a ledge to land amongst tiles that cracked beneath his body. He slid down the slope of the roof he had landed atop, the surface becoming slick with his blood.

He could only hack and cough as blood pooled in his airway; his pain-racked body otherwise resistant to his commands.

Then his hand brushed something cold.

His right eye, spared the swelling of his left, drifted to see what had brushed against him, a howl ringing in his ears as he beheld a woman’s corpse.

Hair, pale hair… blonde… he was blonde… a blonde woman.

His heart ached.

Dark clothes… nice clothes, boots, they did not match her fine attire.

His breath spluttered.

Red, so much red, wet and heavy, horrifically painting her front.

He tasted that burning metallic tang.

A shimmer of gold, more red, a piece of jewellery… a…a…

His very veins undulated.

The sound of something heavy landing near his feet sent shocks up his body, he knew what it was, but his good eye was paralysed in his skull. All he could see…

A brooch… a big beautiful red-jewelled brooch.

The blood in his veins roared.

‘Gods… no!’

With strength pulled from somewhere deep within, Jaune gave a furious battle cry, threw his legs up, and fell from the roof he was on back to the graveyard floor. His body did not land gracefully, and it rocked him to his core, but he did not let the hurt inhibit him.

His hands reached for his jacket.

He had to know.

He pulled free a music box as clawed hands clutched about the ledge, a tangled mane of fur peering over.

He pulled free a small ornate box.

He beheld sickly gums as an animalistic growl ripped through the air.

He opened the lid, and the mechanisms inside moved.

Tiny chimes pierced the air…

And the Beast recoiled.

Massive clawed hands came to clutch at its ears, and horror overcame Jaune; it twisted his guts, put ice in his veins and stole his breath.

It was followed swiftly by an incomprehensible rage.

The Hunter turned and ran; the music box returned to his jacket.

He needed a weapon; his pistol was up the stairs, knocked from his grip by the beast.

His cane was laid bare, silver in the moonlight.

The Beast landed atop it. Snarling, hungry, eager.

Jaune darted past it.

His cane was swift, agile, and would kill a foe with a thousand cuts.

He didn’t want to cut.

He wanted to cleave.

The axe, wielded by the Beast before transforming, was heavy, but his strength was not lacking.

He lunged, claw swipes barely missing his feet as he rolled, coming up in a kneeling position with the axe held outward.

The Beast was too close. It could not stop.

It didn’t.

The axe bared a pointed tip that rested above its blade, and this point buried deep into the Beast’s gut as it barrelled into the poised weapon.

But it didn’t stop.

Its charge pushed on, the Hunter’s feet dragged, gravel and dirt gave way.

He buried the hilt in the very ground.

But it didn’t stop.

The weapon ground and cut and mauled as it was forced to move and jolt.

Eventually, though the beast shifted, the axe rose, the creature’s ribs halted its ascent, and its guts pooled.

But it didn’t stop.

It swiped and clawed, but the Hunter remained steadfast, fury urging him not to yield.

The hilt met the wall of the cemetery, jolting. Blood erupted from the Beast’s nostrils and opened gnashing maw.

The Hunter saw an opportunity.

He rose from kneeling, removing a hand from the axe’s haft.

He lifted his boot and stomped it downwards.

Onto the butt of the Beast’s modified gun, launching it into his waiting grasp.

He caught it dexterously and buried it into the open guts of the Beast, pointing up.

“I’m sorry!”

He pulled the trigger.

The gunshot might as well have been in his head.

Pellets exploded from its bulging shoulders, and blood rained atop his blonde hair.

The beast howled in agony, stumbling back, allowing the axe to pull free more of its insides as it pawed at its open gut.

One step, two…

It fell, arm reaching out as its massive frame collapsed.

A gurgling cry bellowed into the air, its death rattle making the Hunter flinch as it reached for something that wasn’t there.

It went stiff.

A last breathless utterance, distorted by its misbegotten form and the trauma inflicted on its condition.

The hand collapsed… and it did not rise again.

The Hunter dropped the gun… the barrel was still smoking.

His ears stung. The utterance rang in them like an echo.

He collapsed, his knees hitting the bloodstained dirt.

And he let loose a guttural cry as he was struck with a bloody realisation.

That he had just orphaned a young girl.

He had just killed Father Gascoigne.

A.N.

Gascoigne is the first mandatory boss.

The first encounter with the Beastly Scourge in full, where we see its effects in the most tangible way.

It’s also the point from which every terrible, god-awful thing in the game spirals outward.

As his death in the game kicks off, almost every other side character’s progression to their inevitable tragic end.

I tried to do such a pivotal fight justice, so please tell me what you all think.