Board Thread:Off Topic/@comment-14138255-20170320024103/@comment-14138255-20180319185651

Chapter 19: Pontifex Maximus, Sulyvahn

A sigh emerged from the mouth of the hollow in priestly robes. The body of the experiment twisted and morphed, crying and shrieking in anguish before groaning. The body began to smoke in swirling dark energy, shimmering in and out of existence. Dragging his feet in frustration, the priest waved his hand, signaling the armored knight at his disposal to lift the almost skeletal creature and throw him into the sewers beneath.

“Your progress is most unassuring, Royce. Is the heatwave getting to you?” Royce turned, seeing two figures approach. The speaker, McDonnell, short and stout with more extravagant robes, and Sulyvahn, far taller being in black donning a mesh mask.

“Enough,” Sulyvahn said to McDonnell, he turned to Royce. “What have you to report?”

Royce bowed his head in reverence. “I feel we are close, Father Sulyvahn,” he turned to the knight, “BRING ANOTHER!” The knight nodded his head and lifted one of the shaking captives from their cage and forced them to walk to the table. “However, these are not objects like rings, these are live specimens. It’s been difficult to infuse them with both the Deep and the Profaned Flame.”

“Oh I’m sure you’ll find the solution eventually, Royce. In the meantime, Gascoigne and the Patriarch will move on Father Aldrich and us!” McDonnell spat. He straightened himself out. “So… I would advise some haste in the matter.”

Royce sneered at McDonnell, but turned to the subject who was cowering in fear, strapped to the table. The subject pleaded and begged for mercy, having seen what had happened to the rest of the tests, but it was useless.

Fire gripped the subject’s body, chewing, ripping through its moist flesh, as the subject screamed in agony. The flame coated its eyes as it glowed in heat.

Then the darkness swept in, seemingly dousing the flame while engulfing the hapless soul. The being stopped moving, but this elicited a smile from Royce’s desiccated lips. The skin began to dry and smooth as the eyes vanished from their sockets.

But when the dual shadow filled in his body settled, only a dried, elongated body could be seen.

“Did it work?” McDonnell said, annoyed at the lack of fanfare.

Sulyvahn walked calmly to the being strapped to the table and undid its bindings. “Stand. I command you.”

The body opened its eyes, which glowed a shimmered blue and left the table, standing upright and proper to Sulyvahn’s order. He placed his hand on its forehead, keeping it there for several seconds before pulling it away. He pointed to one of Royce’s Cathedral Knights. It immediately went to kill the subject only for it to engulf in red, unnatural flame. A Fire Witch had been born, the knight it once was replaced.

Sulyvahn turned to the two priests. “It took many tries, many failures, and brought many close calls that could have meant our end, but you have finally given us our chance. Aldrich now has his army, and we walk closer to our destiny. Repeat the process on the rest.”

Pyrrha snapped to her senses after staring into space for a long time. Lothric Castle loomed above Firelink Shrine, grey and lifeless. She thought of the flame and chaos that gripped Beacon during its initial fall and wondered if Lothric fell the same way. But it was quiet here. No screams or crackles of flame, just the wind blowing over a dead world.

It worried her how much better this seemed over the chaos of terror.

The graveyard was unchanged from when she first arrived. The same dead tree, the same tombstones, the same place she first died in….which had another body in it now…

Curious, she got up and walked toward it. The arena where she fought Gundyr was suddenly occupied by one corpse in the center, close to the bonfire, blood smeared across the stones.

It was hard to identify, it had been badly torn up, but she couldn’t look away for whatever reason. Its clothes were still intact, made of a strange fiber and texture, and it seemed to be well made. There was an odd familiarity of sorts, unexplainable. It was as though the corpse didn’t belong there.

She had no idea what this world was doing to her to think that of such a horrifying thing.

The church was empty when she returned, everything exactly where it was before. A cool and frosty breeze swept in from the right and in front of her, sending a bite to her spine. As she adapted and looked around, she saw that Anri was not there, not a sign of his being there previously to be found.

She sank her head in disappointment. She looked to her hand and stared at the ring he gave her. In contrast to the dark ring Yuria gave her, she didn’t know what it did, only that it was given in appreciation, in care and trust. She couldn’t say the same about Yuria’s ring.

She quickly turned her head to the right when she heard odd whispering coming from the right, through the other entrance. She blinked before moving forward cautiously, slowly drawing her sword. Creeping ahead, making sure not to make too much noise, she poked her head around the corner, seeing a strange man in armor hunched over several bodies, those of the thin creatures from the city center.

Creighton pawed and thrashed at the bodies, desperately looking for something, though what it was, Pyrrha couldn’t tell. “Damn, damn, DAMN! Is there nothing left in these blasted wastes of skin!?! Bastards, ALL OF YOU!!! Can’t you see how much I need this!?” He stopped cold, slowly turning his head, back still curved in an animalistic stance. He could see her.

Pyrrha stepped out and took out her shield as well, facing down the madman.

“You there, I need something from you…” he growled before slowly taking out his axe, dragging himself toward her. “Don’t move...DON’T MOVE!!!”

Creighton made a mad sprint toward her. Pyrrha simply stayed still and made ready. For all his madness, Pyrrha knew he wasn’t to be feared, he was still predictable. So when the axe was brought down to strike her, she batted it aside, ignoring the electric shocks it sent through the shield, and plunged her sword through his body.

The unpredictable then occurred. Creighton screamed in pain before growling, pushing his hands further to grab her throat. Knocking her on her back, sword sliding out of his abdomen, he began to strangle her.

“I am not going to die here…” Creighton breathed like one would exhale toxic gas. “I am not going to die and go hollow all because a scrawny rat like you wasn’t willing to SHARE!!!”

Pyrrha’s eyes rolled in pain before she took her hands off his arms and up to his head. Suddenly a squeak and groan could be heard.

“AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!” Creighton took his hands off of Pyrrha’s throat to grasp at his helmet, which Pyrrha saw had much larger dents and wedges then was present before. Pyrrha wasted no time in grabbing her sword from the ground and rushing to him. Creighton saw this and ignored the pain, reaching for his axe and swinging as Pyrrha lept into the air.

Creighton’s head was soon rolling on the ground and his body went limp.

Pyrrha was exhausted, still breathing back in the air she lost from being strangled. She began to straighten herself out, but took a look back at the man that attacked her. She could see the eyes looking through the severed head: full of shock and terror. Suddenly she felt sick to her stomach.

This wasn’t like killing a mindless hollow that had lost all ability to reason, or defeating an enemy that was harvesting and slaughtering innocent people for abstract and hateful reasons. This was an unaffiliated person so frightened of such a clear and present threat that he was already succumbing to scavenge for what little he could. His eyes were still piercing even after long since dead. She was so engrossed in their haunting gaze she didn’t notice a different pair of eyes looking at her.

Pyrrha lowered herself down the edge into the river, which was covered in a grimy film. She spotted several bodies floating within. The stench was almost unbearable, but at this point, unbearable stenches were almost expected. It was still better than the swamp.

At the end of the river she saw a strange mound, and as she got closer she saw it was the rat-like creature on the bridge, the one she ran from. She approached it to examine its corpse.

‘How did it get here?’

“Tragic, to see such a pious and loyal scion laid so low, to decay forgotten in the mud.” The deep voice made Pyrrha’s hairs stand on end. She turned right to see, standing at the top of the muddy island, an exceedingly tall figure wearing white and black robes and a gold, branching crown atop a head, which was hidden behind a mesh mask. “But, then again, what is a beast to a hero? Merely an obstacle, correct?”

“You...you must be the Pontiff.” Her skin was clammy and she felt a stirring fire, compelling her to reach for her sheathed sword.

“My name is Sulyvahn, and you mustn’t draw your weapon just yet. It will only cut short our conversation, and we have much to discuss.”

“...Discuss what?” Pyrrha became confused, and in her situation, confusion gave way to an odd anger. “Another speech? About how futile my efforts are?”

“There’s no one between us now. None of my followers are here...and neither are yours.”

‘Does he mean Anri?’ she thought to herself, quietly so he may not hear, just in case.

“Tell me, you don’t look like someone who has grown up in hardship, not true hardship. Coming here must have been the worst thing to ever happen to you. Am I incorrect?”

No he was not. That was why Pyrrha didn’t answer.

“I thought as much. Then why did you come here? How did you come here? Do you know?”

Pyrrha simmered in a boiling rage at this person thinking he could dissect her like this, take apart her life in such a way. She raised her hand to point defiantly to Sulyvahn “I don’t care about what you think ha-”

With a gesture, the dark ring that rested on Pyrrha’s finger slipped off and flew into the hand of Sulyvahn, leaving her true, rotting form revealed. Sulyvahn eyed the ring in the moonlight as a merchant would examine a piece of quality jewelry. Pyrrha stood in shock in the middle of the water, not risking looking down to see who she really is.

“I most dislike illusions and lies. I would much prefer it if people were more...” he threw the ring into the bog, stepping in front of it to discourage Pyrrha from going after it, “...honest.”

Pyrrha shivered in bubbling emotions that were begging to be released. “What. Do you want?”

“For you to answer my question.” Sulyvahn dryly said. “Do you not believe in gods or in the strings of fate that tie to our aspirations?”

“In destiny?” She asked, her red eyes glaring at the Pontiff with the intent of setting him on fire.

“They have failed you before have they not?”

“...what?”

“It’s why we are both here. I can tell.” He looked almost wistfully at the moon. “It’s most distressing, living your life in isolation and stigma, all because of who you are. All because of who you serve, all because of the failure of your leader.” He turned his head back to Pyrrha, who’s eyes widened in apprehension, almost like she could feel his gaze this time. “This is what has happened to you. I know it to be so.”

Her body once more began to shake, and her head was beginning to press against itself from the blood rushing toward it. “You know absolutely nothing about me! I had friends, I had family, I had a life!”

“Now it’s gone, now you’re here. And not long enough it was. It was void and without meaning, people pushing you away because of your title.”

“No!”

“You didn’t like the person you were, you resented it, you hated it. All it ever did was bring you despair and isolation. In the end, it was your undoing.”

“Shut UP!”

“You still deny it, you still try to go back there, to where you were so small and invisible. You lack the ambition and desire needed to be more than tertiary, to seek significance. You would spend all of eternity as a minor player in someone else’s story.”

“Leave me alone…” Pyrrha shivered in a troubled position, her head in her hands and her knees sunk into the mud while Sulyvahn loomed over her.

“....How would young Anri feel, knowing you, Knight Pyrrha of Mistral, would gladly abandon his quest in favor of returning to your placid, shallow life before death?”

“AAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!”

Pyrrha lunged upward and, in blinding speed, reached into her belt, grabbed her cloth talisman, and through lightning bolt right at Sulyvahn. Sulyvahn stopped the bolt with his hand, but noticeably shook in pain from absorbing it.

“I HATE YOU!!!”

“Finally.” He curved his right arm and then extended it out from him, summoning a large, thick sword covered completely in horrifying flame. “You are honest with me.”

“RAAAAAAUUUUUGGHH!” A savage cry escaped Pyrrha’s decaying lips as she drew her sword and shield and charged at the Pontiff.

Sulyvahn took his sword in both hands and swung right. Pyrrha off-handedly blocked with her shield, ignoring the stream of heat erupting from the contact point, and thrusted her sword.

Sulyvahn twisted his own sword and brought it below Pyrrha’s shield and then bringing it up to block her strike before swiping left, sending her back into the river.

She slid but managed to roll back on her feet and run back to relentlessly continue her attack. With impeccable speed, she threw slash after slash at him, becoming a grey and red blur as she continued to fight to the limit of her stamina.

However, her speed was not unparalleled, as Sulyvahn was blocking and deflecting just as quickly before leaping into the air to appear behind her and sweeping wide. Pyrrha dodged the first swing, but Sulyvahn followed through with another and another, knocking her back. Pyrrha rolled under another one and simultaneously blocked a follow up swing before slashing at his arm and then his chest before he could react.

The Pontiff staggered back, opening him up to be slashed in the leg, bringing him down to his knees. Pyrrha kneed him in the head before delivering a kick to his chest. As he fell on the ground, she leaped up and before he could move, Pyrrha plunged her sword into his sternum.

“Aggh” the Pontiff sighed, “how...this cannot be...after all I’ve done…”

He clutched the ground, trying to get up, but his body glowed and then faded away. Pyrrha still clutched her sword and the grips of her shield in a white-knuckled grip as she saw this.

Suddenly her senses came back to her and she immediately rushed to the water where Sulyvahn threw the ring. “Where is it...ugh WHERE IS IT!?” She scraped around the freezing cold mud looking desperately before seeing a shadowy circle still visible despite covered in gunk. She reached for it and brought it up, it was the ring. She put it back on and immediately she felt queasy and shallow. It wasn’t so much the ring as what she was without it, how feral she seemed in wishing it back. It was like- “SHRRRKK!!!”

A swallowing pain filled her torso, and looking down she could see a thin, sharp sword coated in an ethereal purple shadow running right through her. Her whole body froze in empty agony, and she heard a shuffling behind her. “You will regret dying for a noble cause, Knight Pyrrha of Mistral.”

‘Impossible…’

“Because you won’t get another chance at life. Not here.” Sulyvahn pulled the sword out from her and kicked her into the muck. As she bled into the river, she could see his figure beginning to raise the dark sword to strike her down. All of a sudden he stopped, quickly turning around and raising his guard, but a bright green light flashed across the sky and Sulyvahn’s head, or rather that of his image, vanished before the body it was attached to glowed and faded.

Pyrrha slowly got up and reached for her Estus Flask, stopping when she saw who her rescuer was. Holding a greatsword that shined in the moonlight was the same knight she twice saw at the shrine.

After taking a small sip of Estus, enough to get her moving again, she got up and walked toward the knight before he could disappear again.

The knight saw her and stood up straight, holding the sword to his side, waiting for her to get close.

Pyrrha stared at him.

“I saw your fight with Creighton. Don’t worry about him. He deserves everything that happens to him.”

“...Who are you?”

The knight turned to idly look at the corpse of Sulyvahn’s Beast. “Why do you ask?”

“I've seen you before, and not just at the shrine. I can't explain it, it's like you aren't real, like you don't belong here.” ‘As if I belong here,’ she thought, but it couldn't be denied that something about this person was off.

“I really don't.” He turned her way and the Darksign on her back became warmer, and began to pulse. “I heard everything you two were talking about.” Pyrrha turned her head away and scowled at the ground.

“This Sulyvahn is a strong villain, up until now secure in his rule. But he talks like every other foe through history. When it comes to who will win, what they say isn’t as important as what they do. Don’t let small words block your path.” “That’s just it.”

“Hmm?”

“I don’t know what my goal is. I don’t know if I want to go back or if I just want to find a way to accept my death.” She chuckled dejectedly, “I’m just letting the chips fall where they may, just like he said.”

“I never said anything about the end. You’ll never find that out until it’s in front of you, when everything else has fallen away and your motives ultimately irrelevant. And that is the best outcome.”

Her eyes widened in disbelief. “How can you be sure? What-what is the point of all this then?”

“I am sure because I have experienced it. Countless others have too.” This last remark caught her ear and she became puzzled. “Causality will point you to your fate and the fate of the world. You must make sure you get there. No pressure.” He began to walk away, digging out a small feather, staring at it forlornly.

Pyrrha snapped out of her stupor and opened her mouth to talk to him, but it was too late.

“Shanalotte” he whispered before turning his head, his body dissolving before Pyrrha’s eyes. “Seek misery, struggler.”

Pyrrha ran toward his disappearing body, but only half-heartedly, as she knew he would be gone before she could catch him. She looked up into the sky to see the city of Irithyll towering over her, the cathedral towering over the city.

‘And yet more gunk!’ Pyrrha thought, frustrated at having to go thigh deep through more of the putrid water that was present in the sewer. It was easier to breath than the swamp, but there was freezing slime and moisture drenching the walls of the sewer mouth. Occasionally a lucky drop would go in between her cloak and her armor and land right on the nape of her neck. There were days when she preferred the cultists.

A grim sight caught her eye though. Several bone white bodies floating in the water, only they weren’t people, but some kind of crawfish. A large brawl took place here, close inspection of the crawfish showed blood seeping into the already polluted water.

That and some of them being split in half, blood splattered on the wall, and chunks of support columns being broken off recently.

Suddenly she heard booming laughter from up ahead, up the stairs that leaked golden light from the room above. She trudged her way there and found a rather cozy kitchen, with a countertop containing several knives and silverware, all leading up to a cauldron hold a distinct golden liquid: Estus.

Sitting around the fireplace, which bathed the kitchen in a warm amber glow, were the unmistakable figures of Greirat and Siegward.

Siegward turned at the sound of Pyrrha’s approach. “Ah, Pyrrha Nikos!” He called out, raising his tankard of Siegbrau, “we have been waiting ages for you to appear again! Ha!”

She smiled softly at her attention being diverted to good thoughts again. “I’m just glad to see you both alright.”

“uggghhh,” a groan sounded from Greirat’s hood.

“As much as one can stand at least” Siegward quipped before lifting his visor to bring more Siegbrau to his lips.

“Patches kept his word…?” Pyrrha said in complete disbelief. Unlike Greirat, Patches didn’t seem to have any redeeming qualities. At all.

“Yes, I suppose he did.” Siegward said. “Ruffian may he be, but he certainly is a strong combatant.”

“I may vomit…” Greirat muttered.

“Combatant...you mean...that beast out there….”

“Quite right! Glorious it was, brought down by a cooperative effort. Never believed it to be possible in this day and age. I imagine were it not for us, your friend Greirat would have been eaten by the beast, or by those monstrosities just below us.”

“Dea-urr-th is not out of the question.” Greirat said, holding his abdomen, a waft of almost flammable gas leaking from the hood.

Sighing in worry, Pyrrha turned to Greirat, who was having trouble looking her way. “This is my fault. I shouldn’t have sent you out here.”

The thief lazily put a forearm on her shoulder. “Don’t be sad about what’s happened to me, Pyrrha. I wasn’t even trying, anyway...”

Pyrrha cocked her head at this before Greirat fumbled through his bag, which was resting near the fireplace, far enough away to not catch light. He fished out a homeward bone, lightly pushing away Pyrrha’s attempts to help him.

“Neh no, I’m fine, really.” He crouched down, whispered ‘Firelink Shrine’ and vanished along with his loot.

“About time too. A fine lad, but I fear my brew was stronger than him. Haha!” Pyrrha smiled and sat down beside Siegward, savoring the peaceful moment. “Speaking of which, do you still have that mug of Siegbrau I left you?”

Pyrrha blinked and looked through her pouch only to find it wasn’t there. “Oh, no I must have left it at the shrine, I couldn’t imagine taking it everywhere I went.”

“Hmm, you’ve still much to learn of adventuring Ms. Nikos.” He chuckled and reached into his own pouch, giving her another tankard of Siegbrau. “To friends and followers!”

The two toasted and drank from their respective tankards. Pyrrha was surprised to find it much easier to consume than before, but still not completely without a small urge to spit it out. She was far too polite to do so in front of Siegward, though, not to mention near an open fire.

“Ah, and what about you Pyrrha Nikos? What have you been getting up to all this time?”

“Oh, well, not much. Um, just going through one tortuous area to the next. It gets boring actually.” ‘Well, not boring, more like depressingly common and grinding against my spirit.’

“It is a tedious task to be sure, but we must make the most of it.”

“Let’s see...oh...oh, well I’m engaged...apparently” Pyrrha said, doing her best impression of a particularly embarrassed tomato.

Siegward, however, completely froze his movement before tilting his head to her in possible confusion. “Engaged? Referring to marriage? How...unusual…”

“I don’t understand.”

“Neither do I, truly. Such practices are most rare, it simply isn’t done. I am having trouble recalling such an event taking place, or even what it consists of. Hmmmm, most unusual.”

“Really…”

“Hmmmm, well I suppose I shouldn’t read too much into the grain. I would assume you are most content with it. Are you not?”

“Yes...and no?” With the person, but perhaps not ceremony or commitment...or idea.

The subject petered out over a little while, it was awkward anyway. They lost track of time, talking on a myriad of topics. Siegward had cooked up more stories to tell, possibly while he was trapped in the well, waiting for Pyrrha to retrieve his armor, which was one of the stories in fact.

They were both thankful to have a break for however long it would last.

Siegward eventually dozed off. “The only thing to do, really, after a nice toast” he said once more. Pyrrha had to continue, of course. That’s all she could do, and she knew it. No matter how much she’d want to stay in one spot and pretend her suffering didn’t exist, to be with friends, it just didn’t work that way here.

Climbing up the stairs from the kitchen, she encountered a large, elegant gallery room, coated in marble, a floor covered in a soft but very old rug, and full of paintings big and small. She walked to one of the paintings hanging on the wall, which depicted a beautiful, voluptuous woman dressed in silk laying on a recliner. She felt there was something odd about the painting, like it was staring back at her. After-

Crunch

Pyrrha’s ear twitched and she immediately leaped backwards just as a large explosion consumed the ground she was standing in. As the dust settled she saw an impossibly large, metal arrow sticking out of the once polished floor. Turning around, she saw a figure on the second floor overlook.

The figure wore silver plated armor, elegantly crafted, with a thin and horned helmet and a white cape hanging from its back plate. In its hands was a bow as tall and almost as wide as he was, and he was nocking another arrow to fire.

A clattering sound came from behind her and she swirled to avoid a large hammer, covered in rocks, from crushing her into the ground, held by another Silver Knight, but with armor that was covered in a thick coat of dust and had vines embedded in the boots. In a fluid motion she drew her sword and began to bring it down on the Silver Knight’s neck, but the stones on the hammer suddenly flew off, hitting Pyrrha and interrupting her strike.

Stumbling back, a third Silver Knight emerged from behind a pillar, wielding a shield and spear, the latter which crackled and sparked with energy. It wasted no time in charging at her, sweeping the spear at her as she tried to guard against its attacks. The Silver Knight with the great bow fired another shot, which both Pyrrha and the hammer knight had to dodge.

Pyrrha couldn't escape the impact of the arrow in time and stumbled backward, allowing the spear wielding knight to knock her down in an electrifying thrust.

Lying on the ground, she tried reaching for her Estus, but the hammer knight was already in the air about to land and crush her with his weapon.

Suddenly, a gust of wind blasted the Silver Knight into the wall that held the woman’s painting, leaving him curled in pain and twitching on the floor.

Pyrrha looked back to see Siegward, evidently woken up from his nap, wielding a different greatsword than he had before. “Are you alright?”

She got up just as the greatbow wielding knight dropped to the ground brandishing a sword and shield, flanking the two.

“My word, the Silver Knights of Anor Londo.”

“You know what these things are? What are they?”

“Servants of of our God and his kin,” a woman’s voice echoed through the gallery. The Silver Knights stood at attention, even the wounded hammer knight. “Honoured protectors of her ladyship Filianore, Spears of the Church, the fear of the dark, friends of Midir, and defenders of the Ringed City.”

The woman finally finished, and stepped out from the shadows in a dignified manner, towering over Pyrrha as much as the other Silver Knights did. She wore a similar set of armor to the rest of the Silver Knights, but several parts of the armor were smeared black, possibly from burns. Behind her hobbled a man with rusted but still well constructed plate armor, his bearded head covered in a red hood.

The woman took off her helmet, revealing a fair-skinned face with blonde hair, a circlet on her head. On her back was her weapon, a fairly gilded yet average halberd with the grotesque body stuck along its head and shaft. “Thou art not hollow, not as of yet. Is this so?”

Before Pyrrha could say anything to her defense, Siegward stepped forward. “I am Siegward of the knights of Catarina, and this girl you have attacked is a friend of mine on a journey to aid the First Flame!”

“Tis of drede,” the greatbow knight said, “she shambled forth, eyes blear except on the far painting. She beareth a black ring.”

“Yes, I’m sure a simple ring makes her a collaborator” the hammer knight said, “personally I wouldn’t have bothered attacking if it weren’t for you jumping to conclusions.”

“Such as it be,” the lady knight said, “thou’st now search for the Lord of Cinder above?”

“I…” Pyrrha paused, she realized she didn’t know exactly where this Lord of Cinder, Aldrich, was until now. “I suppose so. But I also seek the ruler of this city. Pontiff Sulyvahn.”

“Dost thou? Then this is a boon. We are on-”

“Ahh…” the hooded man stepped forward to Pyrrha, eyeing the dark ring on her finger. “You’ve the same scent of that woman” he said in a breathy, shivering voice. “The Lords of Cinder? Yes, then you must be an Ashen One…” he smiled, eyes hidden by the hood.

“What of it?”

“Ahhhh, you don’t know how long I’ve searched…” he began a low, almost sob-like laugh, one that kept Pyrrha’s hairs on end.

“Halt thine tongue Gael!” the woman said.

Gael snapped back to reality and looked back to the woman before turning back. “Oh, don’t mind me, I didn’t mean to fall apart there..” he stepped back behind the lady knight as he did before.

The woman turned to the two. “We hast a common foe, and in cooperation we mayest yet achieve it. I am called Shira, daughter of the duke.” She pointed to the spear wielding knight, “He is called Bors,” the hammer wielding knight “Ledo,” the bow wielding knight “and Varus.”

Pyrrha stepped forward, “ok, but what brings you to this place...if I may ask?”

Varus stepped forward, “cease thine inquiry, Hollow!”

Ledo stepped forward “We are planning on fighting through the city, kill any resistance, beat this Pontiff fellow, and hopefully retrieve Gwyndolin, last male heir to Lord Gwyn, and then bring him to the Ringed City where he will be safe.”

Varus was frozen in place while Shira scowled at Ledo. She turned to Pyrrha and Siegward. “Willst thee assist us?”

Siegward, Pyrrha, and the Silver Knights lined up at the stairs that lead to the upper city. Pyrrha could feel a cold surge, not only in the air but in her Darksign.

“Prithee remember, not a soul to cease before we reach the summit. Whosoever arrive at the damned Pontiff’s door shall do battle with him.”

All present nodded and Shira donned her blackened helmet and walked up the stairs with the others in tow. At the top of the stairs was a small landing in the steps occupied by several of what they called the ‘Pontiff Knights,’ the ones that Pyrrha fought when she first arrived.

Shira raised her halberd into the air for the Pontiff Knights to clearly see. They readied their weapons and ran forward. Before they could land a hit, she slammed her weapon on the ground. The corpse that was stuck on her halberd then came alive long enough to give a mighty and defending roar, sending the Pontiff Knights flying back.

“Let battle be joined! Long may the sun shine!!!” Siegward yelled before charging in before the Silver Knights could react.

One of the Pontiff Knights was in good enough health to stand up but was immediately slammed into the ground by Siegward’s sword while Bors stabbed the other while it tried to recover.

Soon several Pontiff Knights came rushing to the courtyard only to be batted away be Ledo’s greathammer. Up on the top of the steps was several of the Deacons from the Cathedral with a tall armored witch in the middle. The Fire Witch and the Deacons raised their instruments, with the Deacons firing several fireballs at the group. Bors, Pyrrha, and Siegward raised their shields to block it amongst themselves while Varus raised his bow and aimed at the line.

The colossal arrow landed on the ground near the them, just where it needed to be, sending the Deacons flying to their deaths while the Witch shook but remained standing. Pyrrha quickly conjured a lightning spear into her hands to strike it before it could recuperate.

They quickly ran up the courtyard, but found there was no one there.

“No one’s here, move on to the next section” Ledo called out.

The second he finished, however, several low groans bounced off the walls of the courtyard. The group formed ranks to cover each other’s backs as they looked around for the source of the noise. Suddenly, several windows broke and out of them came several of the ghostly, emaciated creatures from the city square, crawling and dashing toward them with reckless abandon.

The group slashed and stabbed all the ones that rushed toward them, blocking the spears and zweihanders they could barely carry. Appearing from nowhere, several staff-wielding ones raised their weapons, conjuring several shimmering blue arrows toward them. Several hit Varus while he was preoccupied with the melee attackers, forcing Pyrrha to retaliate for him.

“Press onward! We must reach the Pontiff!” Siegward called out before raising his shield and pressing forward, impaling several of the creatures. They rushed forward, slashing and batting away more on the path.

An orange spot appeared in the path ahead of them, forcing them to break off just as the spot erupted into a pillar of fire. In front of the building ahead of them was another Witch, and more Pontiff Knights emerged. The Silver Knights began engaging them while Shira charged the Witch. At that moment came a shrill roar from behind them. Pyrrha looked behind her and saw another of those horrific spider beasts on the roof of the building staring down, twitching with malice.

“Bors, look out!”

It was too late as it dropped down onto the hapless Silver Knight, pinning him. Ledo bashed it away just as it opened its mouth, but it began to attack him now.

“Press onward, Knight Pyrrha!” Shira commanded as she locked blades with the Witch. The Witch blasted fire from its staff down onto Shira, but not expression or cry of pain escaped her stoic armor, which began to char.

Siegward and Pyrrha ran forward up the tower Sulyvahn’s army was guarding and reached the door to his church, where he no doubt waited. Only…

“Anri?” she called out, but no one answered. “Anri!? Are you here?” Pyrrha became worried, uncertain.

“What is it? Is something amiss?” Siegward asked.

“Anri, he’s not here, he said he’d be. Something’s wrong, what if something happened?”

“We can’t worry ourselves now, Pyrrha. The others are fighting below and are relying on our victory here. We must continue.”

“But he should-”

“It’s the way of things. We can’t concern ourselves when we have a duty to perform.”

Pyrrha lowered her head and closed her eyes. She stepped forward to the door and pushed it open for them to enter.

The chamber was large and luxuriously decorated, similar to the Deacons’ chamber, except it let in more light from the stained glass windows above. It had a red carpet leading to another door at the end of the room, which was flanked by two large statues on each side of it. Pontiff Sulyvahn was near the end, staring at the statues, not facing them.

“Are you satisfied, Pyrrha Nikos?”

She scowled at him. “With what?”

“You are going to take revenge against your hated enemy. Your self desires will now be achieved, and they will leave a lasting impact on this world. It’s more than you could have ever hoped for.”

“If you think, that that’s what I stand for, for what I wish to do, than you have already gone insane, no different from those creatures below the city.”

“I know, I made them. Everything that has transpired has been my doing. A proud and true statement. The result of my dreams.” He turned around and brandished two swords, the fire and the dark sword he had before in the swamp. “I was born into nothing, and yet I now stand before you, not as a petty ruler, but as the single most important figure in this land’s history.”

“You have killed and tortured countless innocent people.”

“And it worked. I have achieved excellence, significance. I will be remembered long after the Age of Fire ends. But you? The most significant moment of your life was your death.”

Siegward stepped forward. “You are wrong. You will be defeated because of your significance. You will be undone by your cruelty, and she will be the one to do it with our aid. We will continue to fight until our duty is complete, and-”

Siegward’s speech was cut-off by Sulyvahn’s swinging charge, which swiped at Siegward’s neck, sending his head flying Pyrrha’s way. Pyrrha’s eyes went wide at the sight of Siegward’s lifeless body and her head felt light as images of Penny Polendina and Loretta flashed through her mind.

“My apologies. Would you like to finish?”

Pyrrha’s mind immediately cleared and without a second thought she slashed at Sulyvahn, who dodged effortlessly and followed through with a slash of his own, knocking her into one of the wooden pews. Without effort she flipped herself back on her feet and took some Estus before charging again.

She jumped to slash at him, dodging just as she thought he would. As he stepped back he twirled his body to slash downward with his burning sword. With a strafe and a tilt of the sword, she made the blade slide off in a shower of sparks. Pyrrha followed up with several swipes, which Sulyvahn blocked and then sidestepped to deliver a low swing.

Just before the dark sword connected to her leg she jumped over it and prepared to stab at Sulyvahn’s head when he followed through with a stab with the second sword, leaving her lying in the middle of the statues.

“You simply don’t understand. All the things you are striving for, all the things they have told you need to be accomplished: they are unattainable. You don’t even know what you want, and it will lead to their cruel, cursed existence at the world’s end.”

“And I will GLADLY suffer such a fate for such a friend!”

Sulyvahn had just enough time to turn his head before being thrown to the wall by a gust of wind. Pyrrha looked to the door behind her and saw Siegward there with his sword planted on the ground.

“Siegward, you’re alright!”

“This is not my place to die, this is not where I will Hollow. Kill me as many times as you must, I will continue to return!”

Sulyvahn wordlessly got up and raised his dark sword’s hilt to his face. His body shimmered before the shimmer left his body and took a form identical to himself. Another left his body as well, forming a third Sulyvahn for them to face. Finally, the original bent down and from his back sprouted two withered, branch-like wings.

“What is he?” Siegward muttered to himself.

“A Corvian” said a voice from within the chamber. Out from the shadows of the church came a familiar figure, the Bearer of the Curse, stepping out in front of Pyrrha, brandishing his green sword. “An interloper who doesn’t belong here.”

“I think you’ll find I have made the opposite true.” Sulyvahn and his clones then attacked the three.

The two clones attack Pyrrha and Siegward while Sulyvahn himself attacked the Bearer. Siegward blocked the clones’ attacks before his guard was broken whereupon Pyrrha furiously struck the clones, killing one. They weren’t as durable as the real Sulyvahn.

The Bearer was locking swords with Sulyvahn, who was still trying to attack his sides with either weapon. With several blocks and twirls, the Bearer pulled his sword back and swept it in the air, sending a burst of green energy to Sulyvahn, who was struck dead center by it.

With a groan, he continued to strike, smashing down on the greatsword he wielded with his. After a barrage of strikes, he leaped back before jumping into the air for another strike. The Bearer blocked but the impact sent jets of flame spewing in all directions, launching Pyrrha, Siegward, and the Bearer back, the latter worst of all. The Bearer laid on the ground unmoving.

However, Pyrrha got up and immediately finished the job on the other clone of Sulyvahn before turning a hateful gaze upon him. Sulyvahn stared her down as well, waiting for her first move.

Pyrrha began to run to him but stopped and threw a lightning spear at him, sending shocks through his body. She threw more and more, weakening his defense with each one. Pyrrha was about to create another one, but Sulyvahn made his move. He charged at her with his flaming sword arcing toward her neck when she forcibly smashed it away and then ran him through with her sword.

Sulyvahn gasped for air before grabbing Pyrrha’s neck and throwing her back. He limped away from the three who were starting to stand back up.

“We aren’t done here...I hope you know that. I have come too far to see my kingdom, my work fall to those who don’t know better. We’ll meet again. But not anytime soon.”

“No, I won’t let you get away with this! NOT THIS TIME!!!” Pyrrha charged forward just as Sulyvahn brought his two swords together above his head, a shockwave pushing her back. Suddenly the roof above them cracked and then exploded into the winter sky above, the stained glass windows shattering and raining shards of glass down upon them.

Sulyvahn lept into the air and flew off out of the chamber. Pyrrha saw this and her heart sank. All this effort and she still had to chase him down, she couldn’t get revenge for Anri or for her.

“Was he right? Do you know what you want?”

Pyrrha turned to the Bearer who asked this question, so damned cryptically in her mind.

“Make sure you do when you face him next. No matter how tender, how exquisite, a lie will remain a lie. It will not change once it is committed.” He began to walk to the far door, a feather in hand when something grabbed his arm.

“Ahh….those are wise words, wise words indeed. The crown, the sword. Do my eyes deceive me?”

The Bearer turned sharply to find Gael, conspicuously absent from the battle, gripping onto the Bearer’s wrist. “What are you going on about!?” he said, genuinely surprised for once.

“It must be, you couldn’t be anything else yes yes yesss yes, the True Monarch, decider of fate.” He croaked and laughed. The Bearer lost patience and ripped his wrist out of Gael’s hand and drew his sword to push Gael out of the way, but the old man blocked this strike with a broken sword he had in a scabbard on his side. Gael merely continued laughing. “Ahhhhhhh, fortune finally shines upon my face.”

The Bearer stepped back. “What the hell are you…?”

Just then the doors burst open, with Shira and the Silver Knights rushing into the room. “Gael, unhand them!” Gael obeyed and huddled back to the others. Shira wasted no time in rushing to the far door. “The accursed Pontiff. Was he not undone?” Pyrrha could only say he hadn’t. Shira marched to the door and opened it. “By the princess…”

The group rushed to the door and out to the church’s terrace. Ahead of them was a giant cathedral-like fortress, with a giant staircase and a pathway ahead of it, numerous buttresses that resembled small bridges supporting the whole thing as it hung on the mountainside. And in between it and where they were was a bottomless, impassable chasm.

“Anor Londo…” Varus said

“There’s no way to get to it” Ledo said pessimistically.

Gael then did the unthinkable and stood upright, towering over the rest of the group by half a head, including Shira, who seemed uneased by his sudden posture.

“There is a way, there is. But it requires a detour.”

He took from his cloak a small, seemingly insignificant piece of canvas. The others didn’t know what it could have been.

“Fire for Ariamis...Fire for Ariamis…”

'''Author’s Notes: Oh lord, down to the wire. I may not have done the best on the fight scenes, but man this was a double feature for the One Year Anniversary of this fic being released!

At the time of writing, this fic has attained 28,000+ views on FF.net (2,000 Hits on AO3), 170 followers and 131 favorites, 78,730 words, and 218 Google Docs pages (I think it’s actually longer than the first Harry Potter book, that’s always a good mark).

I am so thankful to have you guys read this, I busted my ass to do this chapter and I hope you like it. This was a crazy weekend too so it came close but it’s finished with most of the things I wanted to put in it, but I still would like it if people sent me things to improve later (since I can do that).

If you have questions (and you will) please send a review or comment so I can answer without spoiling.'''