Blood And Machine

~ Prologue ~

Why am I writing another book while I have a shitload of other books I need to work on? 

I don't know, don't ask.

Probably because I feel there's a surprising lack of Nier Automata stories here.

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The burning of the Workshop was a sign which signified the end of the night. One in which Gehrman, the First Hunter, had seen countless times. The Old Hunter could not help but to feel weary of the thought; of another night coming to an end. 

Dully, the Old Hunter glanced at the outer edges of the field of white lilies, where numerous gravestones surround and contained the field, a testament of contracts which were fulfilled. Their faces have long faded; yet the names inscribed of the passing Hunters remain prominent after so long. But soon, another shall be added in their place after tonight.

Gehrman sat beneath the great tree, awaiting for the arrival of another, the field of lilies swaying slightly towards the wind brought him a comfort, even if absolutely miniscule, to the terrible situation he had been trapped in for so long. The Old Hunter had watched over the Dream for so long now, so long that he felt he may descend to madness at any moment. Had he know where he would find himself in, he would have never allowed himself to be captivated by... it oh so long ago.

"Gehrman." a voice called out.

The old hunter faced the approaching figure, his 'companion'. The Doll stood before him, eyes vacant yet expectant, as her hands fold into one another. She was the sole occupant besides him within the Dream, always dutiful in serving many hunters who had come and go, channelling the echoes within the blood they accumulated into their strength. Always providing a brief comfort away from the waking world, her presence was a soothing calm. The Doll bowed her head slightly to him, and the old hunter knew.

"It is time." The Doll spoke softly, yet her face remained unmoving, betraying no clear emotions.

Gehrman nods, sensing the coming dawn about to breach. His countless years of service gave him personal insight when the cycle came full circle, only for it to repeat itself. "When the young hunter arrives, send him my way." He ordered with a slight wave of his hand. The Doll bowed once more, turning to make her way out of the field to await the incoming hunter; leaving Gehrman to his thoughts. Out of the Hunters that came to the Dream, Gehrman found it strange for the hunter of this particular night to be the sole hunter whose memories were erased with the contract. So the Hunt, the Doll, him, and the Dream was possibly the only things he had left, and that will soon be wholly discarded upon his return to the waking world, but Gehrman felt the decision he will soon make was the best option for them both.

Gehrman heard soft footsteps approach him once more. In the distance, the old hunter saw his apprentice walking closer, trekking atop the hill through the field of lilies to meet him face to face and cleansed of any blood and gore he may have encountered on his way back to the Dream. Out of the countless Hunters that came in and out of the Dream, the one before him had been the most accomplished out of the countless.

His face hidden by a leather mask, the purpose of which was to prevent contamination from the blood and possible airborne viruses, and tucked under a withered tricorn hat. A large blade which hung on his back, the old hunter recognised to be once claimed by Ludwig, as well as a sheathed katana hanging on his side, the hilt of an intricately designed handgun peeked out from within his coat. This Hunter's grey trench coat, while worn yet still serviceable, hugged a sturdy frame, a complete contrast on what he once looked the first time he traversed to the Dream, which now stood upright and prepared for any scenario.