A Hunters Abyss.

chapter 1

***I own nothing***

Fear the old blood, when had the age old adage become so corrupted where it regressed in its meaning? How had "fear the old blood" turned to "seek the old blood"? The hunter idly pondered this oversight on behalf of the everlasting healing church, perhaps if the church, and by extension, Laurence had heeded master Willem's warning, Yharnam would not be suffering such a long and arduous night of the hunt, such as the one which currently plagued the mountain bound city above.

The hunter despised the Phtumerian chalice dungeons, the fluid sloshing at his feet reeked of decay, each step releasing the fowl smell upon the tight passageway, once a grand hall, now nothing more than a dank cave only explored for its harbored secrets.

Power, it was everything in this world, insight, blood gems anything that would give the slightest advantage was required to thrive, however, once one lined the brain with eyes, another grander struggle arose, there was a compulsion to understand more, the secrets beckon sweetly and when they did, all that could be done was hope that you truly understood before trying to decipher them, after all, one couldn't run before learning to walk, or swim to the middle of a lake without knowing thyselfs limits or what lay within the lake itself, insight being metaphorically, the arms and legs. yes.. the hunter quite liked that analogy.

The hunter seeked insight, for the Boulder of knowledge has since started loping down the mountain, demanding more to satiate its desire to grow into a rockslide destroying anything less than itself in the way.

Idly the hunter processed the fact that he was essentially, letting ascendant thoughts, dictate his actions, he knew that some part of his brain was horrified by this, telling him this was no different from being a member of the choir, which he vaguely remembered to have committed atrocities for the goal of ascending humanity.

only that contrary to the choir, his method of acquiring insight was marginally different, instead of experimenting on the wretched few human yharnamites left, he found his insight (and joy) by butchering the ascendant beings, including anything akin to them, where the curse or blood originated itself.

Oh how he relished in the hunt, how he relished in feel of his precious saw cleaver ripping through the blood addled masses, the rush of echoes filling his brain and the blood seeping into his garments, there was no greater joy than to slaughter impurity, best of all, get rewarded for it!

He will slaughter them, EVERYTHING would suffer the consequences of turning him into a dangerous beast. He is to be a beast of principle, he will hunt everything until the secrets all belong to him, until the only traces of the great ones left are the echoes singing in his blood and the eyes lining his brain.