Against All Evil: Dark Souls 1 - Part 2 (Patreon)

Northern Undead Asylum - Lower Chamber

The stone bricks below their feet gave way, sending both Oscar and the Slayer into the chamber below. Oscar’s eyes widened at the sight of another hulking demon. Feeling the bricks fall onto itself, the demon turned, its eyes locking onto the new arrivals as it roared in anger. 

As soon as the two landed, they got ready to fight. Oscar grunted, struggling to his feet and bracing his Crest Shield.

“Steady yourself!” he shouted, already on the move.

The demon swung its massive Demon's Catalyst in a horizontal arc. Oscar rolled under the blow, shield scraping the ground. He thrust his Astora’s Straight Sword at the demon’s leg. The Doom Slayer didn’t hesitate. His Demon’s Great Hammer slammed into the demon’s side, forcing it to stagger. The Stray Demon howled in pain.

Oscar circled to the right, shield up. He slashed at the demon’s thigh, trying to draw its attention. The demon roared and swept its staff again. Oscar ducked and drove his sword up into the demon’s leg, the blade biting deep. The Slayer followed up with a powerful swing to the demon’s hip, knocking it backward.

The demon slammed its staff down, shaking the ground and sending out a shockwave. Oscar backpedaled, drinking from his Estus Flask to recover. The Doom Slayer pressed forward, ducking behind the demon and hammering its calf. The demon howled, leaping up and crashing down to send another shockwave through the room.

Oscar dove aside, rolling clear of the blast. The Doom Slayer planted his hammer and braced against the wave, then ripped it free and launched an uppercut that smashed into the demon’s belly.

Oscar saw the opening and attacked, stabbing into the cracks left by the hammer. He yanked his sword free and backed away. The demon, getting desperate, swung its catalyst wildly. The Slayer sidestepped and smashed the side of its head with a downward blow.

The demon dropped to one knee, staff raised high. “He’s charging another blast… back off!” Oscar shouted, retreating with his shield up.

The Slayer stepped forward. Just as the staff came down, he jumped in. The hammer crashed into the catalyst, causing the energy to detonate in a massive blast that shook the chamber.

The demon staggered. The Slayer didn’t pause. He brought the hammer down in a final overhead swing that crushed the demon’s chest. It collapsed backward, stunned.

Dropping the hammer, the Slayer grabbed the demon’s head with both hands. His fingers dug into bone and tissue as he wrenched the head apart in a savage, tearing rip. Viscera gushed from the ruptured skull, the demon convulsing in its final moments before falling still.

The Stray Demon’s body crumbled to ash. Glowing motes of soul energy rose and merged with the Slayer and Oscar. Oscar sheathed his sword, breathing raggedly. The Doom Slayer stood over the remains of the Stray Demon.

Oscar steadied himself and turned to the towering figure beside him. “That was troubling,” he admitted. “You’re far stronger than I thought you were. Thank you.”

The Slayer nodded. He sifted through the ashen remains of the demon’s body. Several items lay scattered: a Demon’s Catalyst, a Titanite Slab, a Homeward Bone, and a small, darkly flickering Humanity Sprite.

The Slayer picked up the sprite, its faint glow like a dying ember. He turned it over in his palm, feeling the faint pulse of life within reminiscent of the embers that still lingered in this land.

Oscar stepped forward upon noticing the Humanity Sprite. “May I… have it? If you don’t mind.”

The Slayer silently extended his hand, offering the Humanity Sprite. Oscar accepted it with both hands, cradling it with care. As he absorbed it, a faint flicker of light traveled through his body, and his posture relaxed. Slowly, he lifted his helmet, revealing a young face beneath the steel, his eyes clear and bright.

A faint smile crossed his lips. “That’s much better. Thank you.”

The Slayer regarded him for a moment before picking up the Demon’s Catalyst. He turned it over in his hand, then offered it to Oscar. Sorcery-based combat wasn’t really his preference.

Oscar took it and carefully stored the Titanite Slab and the Homeward Bone in his bottomless box. “These are rare materials. If we find a skilled blacksmith, we may be able to improve our arms for the journey ahead.”

The Slayer inclined his head, acknowledging the plan.

#

With that, the pair climbed the cracked staircase, making their way out of the dark chamber and into the narrow, shadowy hall beyond. On the third level’s west wing, the Slayer paused at a locked door. He reared back and drove his shoulder into it, wood splintering as the door cracked open.

“At least we didn’t need a key,” Oscar remarked, stepping in behind him.

Inside, undead soldiers turned at the noise.

Oscar drew his sword, glancing at the Slayer. “Shall we?”

The Slayer didn’t answer, only gave a short nod before charging in, hammer in hand.

The soldiers didn’t stand a chance. By the end of the room, they found another locked door and, beyond it, a small, weathered ring lying on a stone shelf. Oscar picked it up, turning it over. “Despite how it looks, this Iron Ring will help in rough terrain.”

The Slayer took it and tucked it away without a word.

They descended the stairs, and Oscar hummed in thought. “There’s… a cell I’d like to see. Someone I tried to help before all of this began.”

The Slayer gave a small shrug and gestured for him to lead.

They walked the cramped hall, the walls pressing in close. In front of the cell door, a Black Knight stood waiting.

Oscar’s grip tightened on his sword. “Fighting Black Knights here… it’s suicide.”

The Slayer just clapped a heavy hand on Oscar’s shoulder before stepping forward.

When the Slayer got close enough, the Black Knight reacted. It swung first with its straight sword, the blade slicing the air. The Slayer blocked with his hammer, the clash of steel echoing through the hallway. He shoved the knight back with a strong push, then swung his hammer, slamming into the knight’s shield and knocking it aside.

The knight recovered fast, lunging in with another thrust that scraped across the Slayer’s breastplate. The Slayer didn’t flinch. He twisted his hammer in a backhanded uppercut that smashed into the knight’s chest plate. The knight staggered back, stunned.

The knight swung in a wide arc. The Slayer stepped back, avoiding the blade. He slammed his hammer shaft into the knight’s gauntlet, knocking the sword away. The knight pulled a dagger and slashed, but it skidded off the Slayer’s armor.

The Slayer grabbed the knight’s shoulder and shoved it back against the wall. The knight tried to swing the dagger again, but the Slayer rammed his hammer into its side, denting the armor and forcing a pained grunt. The knight tried to lift its shield.

The Slayer didn’t give it a chance. He swung low, the hammer smashing into the knight’s knee with a crack. The Black Knight fell to one leg. The Slayer lifted his hammer and slammed it down in a final blow that caved in the knight’s helmet with a crunch.

From the remains, the Slayer absorbed the souls and gathered the loot: a Red Titanite Chunk, a Titanite Chunk, and a Black Knight Sword. He turned the blade over in his hands, feeling it was made to fight large creatures of chaos.

Oscar picked up the rest. The Slayer set his hammer aside and took up the Black Knight Sword instead, testing its heft.

Oscar stepped closer to the cell door, his shoulders sagging a little. “He didn’t use the key… I hoped he’d find a way out.” He pushed open the cell and quickly dispatched the hollow within with a swift cut, his movements sharp but resigned.

The Slayer’s eyes caught something small and glinting in the corner of the cell: a worn doll. He picked it up, feeling an echo of a soul that lingered.

‘There once was an abomination who had no place in this world. She clutched this doll tightly, and was drawn into a cold and lonely painted world.’

The Slayer tucked the Peculiar Doll away.

Oscar sheathed his sword, his voice quiet. “I thought he’d become something more… but I suppose what’s done is done.”

The Slayer met his gaze for a moment, then gave a small, silent nod. Together, they turned and left the cell behind.

#

The Doom Slayer and Oscar push open the heavy doors of the fortress, stepping out into the cold night air. The battered stone stairs wind up the hill ahead, cracked and worn by the ages. Pale moonlight spills across the broken path, illuminating the ruin in silvery hues.

They climb in silence, boots crunching on gravel and debris. At a bend in the path, the Slayer pauses, his head turning to the right. Nestled against the sheer cliff face, a massive bird’s nest looms... twigs and ancient bones woven into a tangled cradle of darkness. He tilts his head, studying it with a curious gaze, but says nothing.

The moment is fleeting. They resume their climb, the path narrowing as it winds higher. At the crest, the hill opens onto a sheer cliff, the valley below sprawling in misty gloom. Wind whips around them, tugging at their cloaks.

Suddenly, the night shudders with the beating of wings. Two giant ravens descend from the sky, feathers dark as midnight, eyes glinting with ancient intelligence. Oscar doesn’t react in time; one raven’s talons clamp around his arms, lifting him effortlessly from the ground. He gasps in surprise, legs dangling as the bird bears him aloft.

The second raven lands heavily in front of the Slayer. Its massive form towers over him, wings folding back as it settles into the earth. The Slayer stands his ground, unflinching. He meets the raven’s gaze, and in the Slayer’s mind, there is no threat... no bloodlust in these eyes. He knows, deep in his bones, that these creatures mean no harm.

A long moment passes. Then, the great bird lowers its head, waiting. The Slayer steps forward, planting a gauntleted hand on the raven’s back, feeling the rough texture of ancient feathers. With a calm, steady motion, he climbs onto its back, gripping the thick plumage like a warrior mounting a trusted steed.

With a single, powerful beat of its wings, the raven takes flight. Oscar’s bird follows, carrying him high into the air. The Asylum falls away beneath them, a ruin of stone and memory swallowed by the darkness.

“Only, in the ancient legends it is stated, that one day an Undead shall be chosen to leave the Undead Asylum, in pilgrimage, to the land of the Ancient Lords, Lordran.”

#

Firelink Shrine

The two giant crows deposited Oscar and the Doom Slayer gently beside a flickering bonfire. Perched above on the stone shrine, the crows folded their black wings.

Seated near the bonfire was a lone figure clad in battered armor, a Crestfallen Warrior. He looked up as the two newcomers approached. “Well, what do we have here?” he drawled. “You must be a new arrival.”

The Slayer said nothing, merely tilting his head. Oscar stepped forward. “You are aware of the prophecy?”

The Crestfallen Warrior shrugged. “Yup. Well, you’re not the first. But there’s no salvation here. You’d have done better to rot in the Undead Asylum… but too late now.” He gave a humorless chuckle.

Oscar frowned, but the Slayer merely rolled his eyes behind his visor. “A rather pessimistic fellow, aren’t you?”

“You aren’t the first, and very likely not the last,” the warrior said dismissively. His eyes roved over their gear, taking in Oscar’s well-forged steel and the Slayer’s imposing bulk and the Black Knight Sword he now carried. “You two are more prepared than I expected, especially your giant outlander friend here.”

The Slayer gave a small huff of amusement, while Oscar managed a faint smile. “No one said such a journey would be easy.” 

The Crestfallen Warrior’s lips twisted into a sardonic grin. “I suppose you’re right. Most that come through here have little more than a loincloth and a wooden club.”

Oscar shook his head. “The lands are in hard times. More and more people are becoming deprived.”

“True enough,” the warrior sighed. “Well, since you’re here… let me help you out. There are actually two Bells of Awakening. One’s up above, in the Undead Church. The other is far, far below, in the ruins at the base of Blighttown. Ring them both, and something happens… Brilliant, right?”

Oscar’s brow arched. “Something?”

The Slayer crossed his arms, waiting for more.

The warrior shrugged again. “Yup. No one’s done it so far.”

The stranger smiled faintly. “Not much to go on, but I have a feeling that won’t stop you.”

The Slayer nodded, the faintest of smirks hidden beneath his helmet.

The Crestfallen Warrior leaned back. “So, off you go. It is why you came, isn’t it? To this accursed land of the Undead? Hah hah hah hah…” 

The laughter was hollow, but Oscar didn’t let it dampen his resolve. The two warriors turned away, taking a seat at the bonfire. The Slayer watched the flame flicker and dance. Much like before, he let his essence connect with the wider web of the flames. It would seem that this very shrine was a central location to the other bonfires this side of the kingdom. 

Oscar closed his eyes, letting the warmth soak into his bones. “So,” Oscar opened his eyes to look at the Slayer. “Ready to save the world?”

The Slayer’s hand closed around the hilt of the Black Knight Sword, then gave a thumbs up with the other.