Eraqus leapt back on instinct alone, not thought, not planning—just the body remembering how to survive. The beastly knight lunged where he had stood a heartbeat ago, claws raking downward, the force of the strike cracking the earth as frozen talons tore through soil and stone alike. The sound echoed through the forest, sharp and violent, and for a moment it drowned out everything else.
The creature roared in fury at the miss, a raw, animal sound that vibrated in Eraqus's bones. There was no time to answer it, no time to punish the mistake. The others were already moving.
He felt the air shift and twisted sideways as an axe, encased in jagged ice, swept past him in a wide arc. The thing wielding it—long-nosed, tongue lolling obscenely from its mouth—howled as frost kissed the edge of Eraqus's cloak, leaving a brittle sheen behind. Cold crept in where it touched, biting and sharp, like a promise.
Distance bought him nothing.
A frozen sword slashed low, close enough that he had to jump, boots leaving the ground as steel hissed beneath him. The man wielding it looked barely human at all; doglike, hunched, eyes too bright, teeth too eager. And then there was the fourth.
She came for his heart.
Long-limbed, almost graceful, spear leveled with terrible intent. Eraqus raised his shield just in time. Steel met steel; sparks and shards of ice burst outward as the impact staggered her back a single step. One moment, just one, of imbalance.
He took it.
His sword came up in a practiced arc, but another axe slammed down to intercept it, halting the blow inches from flesh. Eraqus dragged his blade along the weapon's hilt instead, metal screaming as it slid. The sound buzzed through the forest, and the beast-man recoiled, clutching his face where blood now ran freely.
The whimper that escaped him did not last.
Fire erupted from his hand in a sudden, violent jet. The scream that followed was shrill, panicked, and then Eraqus was paying for the moment he'd overcommitted.
Something hit him from behind.
The first knight—the one who had sprung the ambush—crashed into his back, arms and legs locking around him with crushing strength. Fangs sank into his neck, pain exploding white-hot as teeth pierced flesh.
Eraqus screamed.
He threw himself backward with everything he had, strength stolen and hoarded from souls now spent in desperation. His back struck a tree trunk with a crack that could have been wood, bone, or both. It didn't matter. What mattered was that the grip loosened.
He elbowed backward savagely. The creature flew off him, hit the ground hard, blood and saliva spraying from its mouth.
It did not get up again.
An axe. A sword. A spear.
They met in its body all at once.
The beast-man let out a soundless scream as it dissolved, breaking apart into bluish motes that drifted upward and vanished. Souls. Always souls. A sensation no one should ever grow used to.
And yet, he was.
-XXXXXX-
Eraqus felt his body reforming and his consciousness returning, granting him control of his form. The yellowish mist from the bonfires obscured his vision, gradually disappearing, revealing the forest where he fought.
However, he never had a chance to properly stand and assess his surroundings, as several weapons pierced his body again. With his wounds healed, he didn't die immediately, forcing the beastly knights to remove their weapons from his flesh and attack again.
There was no synchronicity or technique, only savagery; a mixture of screams and roars echoed through the vegetation, and his body disappeared again, returning to the bonfire.
-XXXXXX-
When his eyes opened again, he was prepared, stepping aside and dodging a spear, grabbing the weapon's hilt and pulling its owner close.
A ball of boiling fire then ripped through the air, causing the beast-woman to scream, falling with her head engulfed in flames.
The knight who fought with his claws had his fangs broken, courtesy of a shield slam to the center of his mouth. Unfortunately, victory never came, courtesy of an axe and a sword.
-XXXXXX-
Eraqus wasn't counting, and frankly, he didn't care. His head felt light, barely processing the familiar pain. An axe struck his shoulder as his sword sliced through the chest of an enemy approaching from the side.
His fist met the snout of his captor, making bones crack; whether they were his own or his opponent's, there was no way to know, after all, the blow had the desired effect of making him recoil.
The Master tried to distance himself and reorient himself, but a spear awaited him, piercing his heart from behind.
His senses were growing weaker, his memories distant. Blurred vision, ringing ears, dry mouth, and tired nerves, and his mind clouded. Distant memories raced through his brain; he saw strange and wonderful people and places, but their names escaped him.
In the end, it didn't matter; he disappeared, and his torment continued.
-XXXXXX-
In his umpteenth death, something different occurred: sounds of fighting and new voices. This time, he wasn't the target.
Through the fog that blocked his vision, he glimpsed two armored figures, one silver and the other black. Each faced a group of his attackers; the silver one wielded a straight, dark sword, while the black one carried a halberd and a circular shield.
With technique, discipline, and skill, they took advantage of the damage already inflicted by Eraqus.
The combat was short; the beast-men fell one by one, roaring, shouting insults, and fighting madly, but their adversaries did not yield to the pressure.
"...Filthy Undead, my master will not let this go unpunished!"
The first of the knights who had attacked Eraqus exclaimed, dragging himself across the ground as his blood painted the earth red. Only the silver figure responded, revealing a female voice as she prepared the final blow.
"Fool, you are merely a pawn to your master. Soon we will come after him, as well as your damned saint."
The steel cut through the air, and life left the horse's body, disappearing into souls just like his companions, being absorbed by the newcomers.
With the fight over, Eraqus became the center of attention, walking with trembling legs and hesitant steps, barely able to stand and raise his weapons.
His words demanding answers were nothing more than incoherent noises, and instead of responding with aggression, the pair before him lowered their weapons and looked at him with pity.
"Oh, poor thing. What did they do to you? Horace, give me one of the stones."
"Hm…"
The figure in black nodded, murmuring in a masculine voice before pulling a cubic gray stone from the bottomless box at his waist, handing it to his friend, who promptly crushed the object against the Master's chest.
The result was instantaneous; his cadaverous appearance gave way to the human he once was, and Eraqus's mind and senses returned immediately, along with the trauma of his repeated deaths.
His eyes widened and his mouth dropped open as all his memories, new and old, returned like a lightning bolt. Without a single word, he slumped forward, the corners of his vision darkening until everything disappeared.
-XXXXXX-
"GASP!"
With air filling his lungs, Eraqus stood up, assuming a fighting stance.
"You shouldn't be standing now."
He turned, weapon in hand, as soon as he heard the unfamiliar voice, finding the figures from before watching him atop a pile of ruins.
"Who are you?! Where am I?!"
Despite his demands, his voice failed to hide his pain and confusion. His body trembled and sweat dripped down his face; his body was healed, but the same could not be said of his spirit.
The figures in front of him seemed to notice, the one in black sighing sadly while the silver one raised both hands in a sign of peace.
"I am Anri of Astora, and the man beside me is called Horace, a dear friend of mine, but a man of few words. You are still on the Road of Sacrifice, though at a different bonfire; we brought you here after rescuing you from the Pontiff's knights."
Slowly, he lowered his sword, recent events returning, something he wouldn't mind forgetting.
"I… Forgive my rudeness, I thought I was still trapped in that hell. My name is Eraqus, and I am immensely grateful for being rescued."
"I understand how you feel; it's not the first time the Pontiff has ordered the death of an Unkindled one who threatens his reign."
"This Pontiff, who is he? And why does he see me as a threat?"
"Pontiff Sulyvahn is the tyrannical ruler of the city of Irithyll in the Boreal Valley after the disappearance of its former ruler, and head of the church and representative of the gods, but this is nothing but a farce. He purified the city of its enemies, killing, enslaving, or exiling all who defied him, thus giving himself all the titles of power in the place."
"Boreal Valley? So Sulyvahn is Vordt's master?"
"Oh, you met the mad knight? I suppose it was you who killed him then. I believe that's the reason behind the ambush against you. The Pontiff wants you dead before you become a problem."
Eraqus's teeth clenched as he recalled the torment inflicted by the great knight, and now he knew the identity of his master. From what little he had been told, Sulyvahn would be yet another enemy on this journey.
"Could you tell me the location of Irithyl?"
"Unfortunately not, its location remains unknown to Horace and me, but if it is of any use to you, I can inform you about the nearby areas. Below us lies the Crucifixion Forest. Beyond the flooded forest lies Farron Keep, home of the Undead Legion. Further on is the Cathedral of the Deep. We seek the cathedral, home of the shadowy Aldrich."
Two of these names caught his attention: Aldrich and the Undead Legion, two of the Lords he was to defeat to rekindle the First Flame.
"Interesting, it seems our paths are intertwined. I seek to return the Lords to their thrones. What can you tell me about them?"
"The Legion is known primarily for its Order of Abyss Watchers, an elite force specializing in combating the darkness; however, they are nothing more than monsters now, cruel warriors who buried entire kingdoms at the slightest sign of corruption. As for Aldrich… That abomination was once a Cleric of the Way of White of Irithyll, a depraved being who delighted in consuming human flesh to the point that his body became a shapeless mass. He and Sulyvahn worked together at some point, but for unknown reasons, Aldrich was exiled to the Cathedral. The road we are on now was created to guide sacrifices from the settlement to him."
It was difficult to describe what he felt right now. For a moment, there was a fragment of happiness at discovering an order dedicated to fighting the darkness, but those feelings died upon learning the method used.
Destroying the darkness with such violence would bring suffering to the innocent, darkening their hearts and strengthening that which the sentinels swore to destroy.
Aldrich, on the other hand… If Anri's words are true, and judging by the disgust and anger in her voice when mentioning the creature, they probably were, he will feel no pity when he brings an end to the Lord, only disgust.
"I thank you again for your help and the information you have given me. They will help me immensely, but if I may suggest, it seems we have a common goal, so how about we travel together?"
Eraqus offered a polite smile and a handshake, however, Anri and Horace remained silent, exchanging a subtle glance before the woman spoke in a sad tone.
"Forgive me if my words offend you, but we don't know you well enough to trust you. We helped you because it was right, but there is a chance we may regret it in the future. This land is dangerous, grow stronger and prove that you have good intentions, and the next time our paths cross, one can help the other in a moment of need."
His smile vanished immediately, replaced by a dejected face. Sighing, he forced the corners of his lips to lift, offering a farewell to both of them.
"If this is what you desire, then I have nothing to question. I hope that the next time we meet, we can cooperate."
"I pray that this becomes reality. May the flames guide your path, Eraqus."
"Hm…"
With a goodbye from Anri and a murmur of approval from Horace, Eraqus touched the nearby bonfire, lighting it and healing his body's weariness before continuing his journey.
Following the lessons he had learned, his first action was to return the way he came, exploring the area beyond the settlement where he had been attacked.
There he found several interesting items: a pair of twin daggers, an axe, a huge butcher's knife after dispatching a poorly dressed woman who tried to decapitate him, a set of armor, a magical gargoyle-shaped ring, and a tome in braille.
He didn't linger long near the fire where he had repeatedly died; he wanted to distance himself from that place.
With that done, he crossed the ruins where Anri and Horace were, exchanging a brief nod before entering the next area of his journey, a large swamp filled with massive trees.
The smell was the first thing that assaulted his senses, a stench that almost made him vomit, a mixture of the natural scent of such a place with poison and decaying bodies.
The water below was shallow and didn't seem poisonous, even after testing it with a stick. There were the ruins of a fortress ahead, while different ruins lay along a path to the left.
It was obvious where one of them led, but before going to the sentinels, Eraqus chose to explore the nearest area where another bonfire rested.
Checking his supply of moss, he placed his feet in the swamp, grumbling as he felt his legs getting wet, and headed towards the bonfire.
This was no place for fighting; there were many enemies who could surround him. Eraqus knew this, so instead of risking his life with unnecessary combat, he avoided his adversaries as much as possible.
The humanoid crows with dark feathers and skeletal faces were burned with spells and pyromancies as he dodged their daggers, scythes, and poisonous clouds, managing to find a green shield along the way, which he quickly equipped, feeling his energies rapidly recovering.
The giant crabs were ignored, left behind before they even finished emerging from the ground. Eraqus made sure to secure the shield with the twin dragon design before the crustaceans could reach him.
There was an annoying dog that seemed to teleport as it chased him. Fortunately, he managed to climb a small hill in time, curing its poisoning with moss before killing the creature with a sword strike.
Resting by the nearby campfire, he made his way toward the unknown ruins, venturing inside.
Hollows wielding spears and shields were the first to greet him, shouting and murmuring as they swung their weapons with abandon. They proved no challenge, perishing from swift, deep cuts that froze immediately afterward.
Those wearing large hats and wielding staff proved more challenging, conjuring luminous blue spells that exploded into magic and crystal. Eraqus was forced to take cover behind pillars and partially collapsed walls, returning the spells with his own magic.
With lightning, ice, and fire, he cleared a path through the ruins, finding a staff made of twisted branches, a shard of Estus—something that made him inwardly celebrate—a golden falcon shield, and a ring with a round, dark gem.
Reaching the highest level, after killing a titanite lizard and claiming more of the precious ore for himself, he entered what appeared to be an improvised study, filled with shelves and tables overflowing with ancient books and scrolls.
There stood a man, tall, thin, pale, with long dark hair, as well as dark clothes, except for his brown boots and gloves.
His arrival caught the attention of the individual, who turned, staring at him more with irritation than fear at finding a stranger in such a dangerous place.
"Well, that's unexpected. I don't usually receive visitors. What do you want? This is my office, which you found by chance. If you have nothing to discuss, I need to get back to reading."
With a careless wave of his hand, the man shooed him away, returning to reading the book on the table in front of him.
The Master showed no frustration this time, already accustomed to the rude attitude of most people he encountered, and introduced himself as if nothing had happened.
"I'm sorry for intruding on your office without permission; I was merely exploring the area and didn't expect to find anyone here."
This seemed to catch the individual's attention, who glanced at him and spoke.
"Exploring, you say? Then you would be willing to make a deal with me? I am a sorcerer with much to share; in exchange for my teaching, you will bring me knowledge in the form of scrolls detailing the secrets of sorcery. Are you willing to accept?"
The offer seemed too good to be true, but his teachers of pyromancy and miracles had done something similar, and so far they hadn't shown any malicious intent, so it didn't seem like a bad idea to accept, for now.
"But of course, it seems like a fair deal for both of us. I'm always willing to expand my arsenal."
And learning the sorceress of this dark world would be great for understanding it; after all, what Keyblade Master doesn't possess a talent for sorcery?
"Very well, you're not a fool, I presume you understand the weight of a promise. I am Orbeck of Vinheim, and I will teach you sorcery; we will learn together, it will be like our own school."
If there was an attempt at humor, then it failed miserably, and after offering her hand at Orbeck's request, her aptitude for magic was measured as high, more than enough to learn.
Eraqus had already acquired a staff; however, shame washed over him upon discovering that he did not possess enough souls to learn all of his new teacher's spells. After all, he had lost everything he had accumulated in the settlement, and now he was forced to settle for a simple Soul Arrow and Farron Dart.
"Be safe, Eraqus, it would be a shame to lose my new student."
With these final words, the master bid farewell to his new teacher, descending the ruins and entering a side passage.
There was a summoning sign nearby, and following a narrow passage, he arrived at a set of ruins with the entrance arch blocked by a wall of fog.
Already knowing what to expect, he returned, touching the sign and anxiously waiting for his partner In combat.
His face immediately fell, transforming into anger when the knight with the gargoyle helmet, Eygon, stared down at him, towering over him in height with his heavy armor, large hammer, and shield.
There was a mixture of curiosity, amusement, and mockery in the man's eyes, and he failed to suppress an arrogant laugh. Summons didn't seem capable of speech, but his attitude revealed everything he felt.
Eraqus didn't yield to the provocations, clicking his tongue and heading towards the mist, the knight following him with heavy steps.
The Master drank from his flasks to restore his health and magic and donned the leather breastplate and hood of the armor set he had found earlier, probably belonging to a bandit, but the extra protection was welcome.
With that done, they both crossed the fog, prepared for the combat to come.
END OF CHAPTER