The Sandman (Bloodborne)

[Lemor]

Chapter 31
Several days. It took another few days for the much-needed blood to appear in a mug on the counter.

It was not red.

Having undergone the purification process by my dear new client, the colour of the blood had lightened considerably. The scent emanating from it differed as well: it smelled not only of iron but of certain herbs and other... let us call it "alchemy."

Moreover, this was no mere purified blood of some random beast. Perhaps "extract" would be the most fitting term for the sludge before me. The exact number of beasts caught in the depths of the labyrinths by my dear clients remained unknown, but I could say with certainty that the mug contained the drained essence of not one, but possibly dozens of monsters.

In the best and most fortunate of circumstances, this concoction would agonizingly kill an ordinary—or even extraordinary—human. Iosefka had nervously warned of this several times, and she certainly was not dissembling: the blood in the mug seemed alive, trembling from the otherworldly will seeping from it. It felt as if a small rift into the Dream Realm lay within the mug, and even the barrier erected by Rom could not entirely cut off the influence of... this upon the world.

Yet, for me, this was no dangerous filth, but a chance—if not to significantly expand my capabilities, then at least to brush against the power of the Great Ones with the very edge of my sand.

Now, truly, I felt this with every fibre of my soul.

"Could it be that she deceived you?"

"Impossible," I smiled. "I am her patient."

She would not harm a patient even if her life depended on it. Such a flattering assessment clearly touched something in Maria's soul: unlike her, the doctor had not failed. However, the girl decided against developing the topic, switching to a more pressing one.

"Will this eliminate the root of the problem, Arthur?"

The question, full of curiosity and unconcealed concern, made me shake my head.

It was already a miracle that a practically ordinary human could kill the alien will within the blood without losing the qualities of the blood itself! And how could such a treasure be given away so easily? Lords of Dreams, the ability to sell one's talents is worth no less than the talents themselves. Without the ability to sell a talent, its utility is negligible.

"It will not fully save me from a potential fall, but it will certainly mitigate the risks," I replied after a brief silence. "In any case, we are out of time regardless. I have already done everything within my power."

A moment later, the purified blood entered my system.

I swallowed in large gulps, trying to finish every last drop before something deep within could react to the surge of power. I set the mug down and closed my eyes, blocking out the repulsive, caustic flavour that was so pungent my jaw simply went numb.

Unfortunately, this was only the beginning.

For the first time since partaking of the blood, a burning heat flared in my chest. Intense, painful—a guttural wheeze escaped me. A visceral sound, like a wounded beast. My legs gave way; I clutched my chest, feeling my heart begin to race. Iosefka had mentioned a slow heartbeat. Well, for a short while at least, I had resolved that problem without any interventions: the heart turned into a drum played by a true professional.

Thump, thump, thump, thump,

Bam-bam-bam-bam-bam...

My condition worsened, and regrettably, this did not escape the notice of little Lily, who came running, or the agitated Thalamus.

Perhaps the girl should have been sent away, but sending her anywhere else felt too dangerous. Maria's voice in my head, along with all other sounds, was drowned out by the pounding of my heart, and as it turned out, even this was not the limit.

A strange sensation washed over me. Visions began to form before my bloodshot eyes.

I saw raging seas and oceans. Depths humanity had yet to descend to. The boundless cosmos, so native yet simultaneously alien to the Great Ones.

My guesses regarding the nature of the unimaginable beings were confirmed: mere cosmic creatures drifting through dreams, somehow surfacing in the depths of seas and oceans. All human theories regarding their nature were simultaneously erroneous and correct: they belonged to the dream, the sea, and the cosmos. Born in the dream, wandering the cosmos, surfacing from the ocean depths.

The physical world receded, yet I could still feel the joy with which the slugs crawled over me. Hiding within the walls of the pub, they emerged, and I barely had enough strength to ask Lily and Thalamus not to remove them. They were helping somehow. They were not called the companions and familiars of the Great Ones for nothing.

However, while the Phantasm slugs posed no problem, there was something carrying significantly more risk, from which I could not escape even if I desired. Throughout the entire process, the projection of the Great Amygdala watched me. It reached out with tentacles that only I could see, examining and studying me. I had expected this. I made no attempt to hide, confident in my earlier conclusions.

Moreover, the visions granted me something. Something seemingly insignificant, yet simultaneously—insanely valuable.

I came to myself only toward nightfall.

A weight pressed upon my chest: little Lily had fallen asleep right there, hugging me tightly. Nearby I felt the spark of Thalamus's consciousness, keeping watch. A single short mental impulse was enough for the flower to understand that all was well, rewarding me with waves of... floral joy. I winced, unaccustomed to such vivid and alien emotions. My senses had sharpened significantly, making it difficult to say whether this was a good sign or a bad one.

"You may be dismissed. Thank you."

The Phantasm slugs, still crawling over me, seemed to be waiting only for this command, dissolving into immateriality. Marvellous creatures, indeed. Their very existence, not counting the immortal hunters, already gave me a hint on how to return Maria to the mater---

"Your skin has grown even paler, good Sandman..."

Something touched my cheek. Practically intangible, I had to make an effort to realise it was a hand. My eyes widened, refusing to believe what was happening.

"I... am I not dreaming?.."

To such genuine and unconcealed bewilderment—which she was likely seeing from me for the first time—Maria merely smiled.

"I am surprised myself, Arthur..."

Her voice echoed. She sat directly opposite me, yet simultaneously seemed to be... somewhere else. In my dream. She remained there. But with a small nuance.

"I see..."

Careful not to wake the soundly sleeping Lily, I gently raised my hand and swept it through the space. Lords of Dreams, fate had allowed me to glimpse something wondrous, truly fantastic.

At first, I didn't even notice how light and ethereal I felt. The body seemed surprisingly malleable, somehow familiarly quicksand-like, even if the sensation was more phantom. For now. I had known this would happen. Yet the scale of the changes was still beyond imagining.

I moved my hand carefully through the air, as if submerging it in familiar sand. Feeling the resistance, I overcame it, and saw the results: quicksand-like ripples spread through the space. The world began to bend in a small area around me. I closed my eyes, listening to my sensations. For now, the area of influence was relatively small. But it would undoubtedly grow.

"And the dream shall become reality," I observed thoughtfully. I turned my head toward Maria's projection. "How do you feel?"

The girl pondered briefly.

"I see you as if through murky water, good Sandman."

How curious.

"Can you... return?"

As it turned out, Maria had initially simply wanted to temporarily seize control of my body to... let us say, carry it to rest. But instead of the usual awakening within the body, she practically tumbled out, severely frightening both Lily and Thalamus.

Lily knew of Maria, of course—but the same could not be said for the flower. Fortunately, everything was resolved rather quickly and I was safely carried to the bed.

Maria could fairly freely sink back into the pub or "climb" out, but was incapable of moving far. Furthermore, interacting with physical objects was quite difficult for her. My body was more the exception that proved the rule.

If she wished, she could influence the physical world, but it required immense effort, and Maria admitted that simply being in such a state exhausted her. A couple of experiments showed that my newfound power could compensate for her weakness, effectively allowing the girl to roam the physical world almost freely for short periods—but it was highly likely an ordinary person would not see her. And even an extraordinary one.

I strongly doubted that the hunters chosen by Flora existed in such a manner. I already had a theory regarding the form of existence of the slugs, and it was the preferred method to return Maria to the world of the living, but apparently other mechanisms existed that could also help return her to this mortal dark fantasy. The discovery significantly altered my laid-out plans and required further thought.

Unfortunately, no one intended to give me much time for thought. It took tremendous effort to maintain my composure.

"Return, Maria."

"I would... like to hold the Rakuyo again," she confessed hesitantly.

"Not now."

I could see and feel that she wanted to say much more, but my tone brooked no argument. The girl nodded and vanished.

Maintaining an outward calm, I carefully rose. Of course, this could not help but wake Lily, yet...

"Later, little one."

She only managed to stare in surprise before her eyes rolled back, sent to dream a bright, happy dream. Once up, I put the girl to bed and headed toward the exit of the pub.

The street was empty.

Absolutely empty.

Not a single living soul, not a single lamp lit, and even the projection of Amygdala... She was nowhere nearby, which was far more frightening than her constant presence. I saw no one. No one was around. Yet an oppressive feeling of presence arose. Somewhere very close, right nearby. It was everywhere. Above, below, behind, in front. It was everything and it was nothing. No matter how much I looked around or tried to peer as deeply into the Dream Realm as possible—there was nothing. I simply could not see it, only knew that something was near.

A simple yet terrifying thought formed in my mind:

"The Moon Presence was cautious for good reason."

A chill ran through me; I glanced back, but saw nothing.

Unfortunately, it decided to announce itself differently. A voice arose in my mind. Indecipherable, distant, capable of dangerously pushing even me to the brink. It was no human tongue. No living creature could produce such a sound. The sound emanated from the very depths of the Dream Realm, and I was certain it wanted to reach out, but simply could not. The veil played a minor role here. The matter lay elsewhere.

The beast was simply so heavy with its own power that it could not surface.

"Formless Oedon," I stated with outward calm.

Practically nothing was known of this entity from the game.

Only one thing tied it to the other Great Ones: every Great One loses its child, and then yearns for a surrogate, and Oedon, the formless Great One, is no exception. That was what the entity did in the game. Precisely through this, the player gains the opportunity to acquire a third of an umbilical cord and then ascend to a Great One to oppose the Moon Presence. But that provided no answers as to who and what Formless Oedon was. And, most importantly, what its intentions were.

Amygdala preferred observation and study. The Moon Presence strove to manifest its body. The artificial Great One, created from the Byrgenwerth student, held the barrier between worlds. Ebrietas... Another artificial Great One, a former Pthumerian who never mastered her powers. Broken, drowned in despair—I could feel it even when I entered Amelia's dream.

What of Oedon? Unclear. Truth be told, the fact that the player did not fight it or interact with it in any way brought rather grim thoughts. Regrettably, those thoughts proved correct.

"You should not be here, Sandman..."

The monstrous voice arose in my consciousness once more. A cold wind swept through the street. I saw no one, but felt something try to reach out again. And fail again. Only this time, it decided to change strategy, acting in the most vile and terrible way possible.

The blood moon had not yet arrived, but I felt the approaching scent of rotten fish again. The chime of bells echoed in my head. I dashed back into the pub, locked it, and dropped to the floor almost instantly, disregarding my physical body: I needed to fall asleep immediately.

Formless Oedon had not only sensed me, but had guided the Orphan straight to the doors of my dream. Shown it a direct path, eliminating all obstacles.

I became aware of myself in the pub within my dream, managing only to see the fleeting, distorted shadow of the Orphan already standing opposite a calm Maria, who seemed to have been waiting for such an outcome all along. The girl turned to me, smiling. My power reached for the dead Great One, and I was undeniably far from defenceless—but it was too late: obviously, the Orphan had drawn its own conclusions. Or someone had offered it guidance.

A moment, and the Orphan of Kos vanishes, taking Maria with it into the depths of its nightmare.

***​

Morning brought exceptionally foul weather. Heavy rain poured; it was cold outside. As if enchanted, ignoring Thalamus reaching out and expanding to fill the pub, I went through my usual morning ablutions.

Maria had been right: my skin had indeed grown paler. Not so much that it was overly conspicuous, but one could definitely say I rarely saw sunlight, evidently preferring some watery depths. The need for a razor had vanished: without conscious desire, facial hair would no longer appear on my body.

That, however, was not the main issue.

"The light..." I murmured, stepping closer to the mirror, looking into my own eyes.

I barely felt it. Almost nothing. And I knew it was not the purified Old Blood to blame.

Usually, cleaning brought me pleasure. There was something meditative about it, a reminder of my first days in this world and the vivid feelings I experienced then. The material world was, after all, much more real and whole than the world of dreams. Regrettably, it now evoked no emotions in me. There was an emptiness in my soul.

After cleaning, I prepared breakfast for Lily and myself. The little one woke up just as the food was ready. At first she was glad I was up, but that joy lasted only a moment. Perhaps my gaze was too eloquent. Or maybe I still poorly controlled the increased power, and something, breaking through the barrier, screamed of what was happening in my soul. Emptiness could be much more terrifying than ordinary madness.

Lily grew frightened.

"You need not be afraid, little one," I said in the most ordinary of voices. "Sit, eat."

Though many in this world would have called Lily's illusion a fully grown woman, she remained but a child to me. A child whose heart awoke with fear from a single glance, a fear she tried with all her might to suppress, obediently sitting at the small table.

"Father... father... what... what happened..."

My gaze dropped to the fried egg.

"The Orphan reached its goal."

My voice sounded utterly routine and ordinary, as if sharing a random piece of news. Just a trivial event no one cared about. Lily understood. Her illusion began to distort, revealing her true form.

"F-father..."

"Focus on your food," I replied briefly.

I knew what needed to be done. Returning Maria was still possible. But the realisation that a dead Great One, due to my weakness, would plunge her into a terrible nightmare from which I had failed to protect her...

A spirit of light. I was supposed to send happy dreams and protect souls from the dark, but instead I had merely begun a rapid descent into darkness myself, failing even to protect a soul dear to me.

My light was fading not only because of consuming the blood of ancient monsters from the depths of nightmares. Not only because the people chanting my name saw not a positive figure, but a beast that sent good dreams. Vile, terrible, base, good Sandman—that is what they see. That is what I saw in myself. Saw. My confidence was undermined, trampled, crushed.

"I was mistaken..." I murmured. "I need to think, Lily..."

I rose from the table without finishing the meal and waved my hand; the remaining food scattered into particles of sand.

For spirits, it is primarily important that others see the light within us.

We feed on thoughts, and feelings, striving toward the light or the dark. But that applies mostly to weak spirits, whose existence is so implicit that an alien will can easily reshape their essence. I had perceived the Great Ones as insanely powerful nightmares, yet they showed no hint of what was happening to me as I sank into the darkness. I had thought this was due to their unique nature and age, but now that seemed only partially true—and I had long since arrived at the real answer:

They simply were not "evil" in the usual sense of the word. Nor did they consider themselves so.

By sinking into negative thoughts and feelings, experiencing cold in our souls, we ourselves strive toward darkness and carry it within us.

And we change.

By sinking into positive emotions and feelings, experiencing warmth in our souls, we ourselves move toward light and carry it within us.

And we change.

I had failed, and the very realisation of that failure affected me so strongly it extinguished the light within me even further. The stronger I became, the more my own thoughts and aspirations determined who and what I was. They could see me as anyone or anything, and only I decided whether to agree or not; to sink into the darkness coming from outside, or conversely—to reject it and continue reaching for the light. The world gave me a choice that had never existed before.

Or perhaps I had been desperately hoping to believe it hadn't.

Soon the pub opened for business. The door opened with the chime of the bell; cold air instantly penetrated inside, bringing the sound of rain. A familiar huntress crossed the threshold. Wearing the mask that linked her to plague doctors, she made no haste to remove it, deciding to begin the conversation differently:

"I have a... task," the woman rasped. She didn't seem to fully believe her own words. "I have come to help you, Sandman..."

I raised my eyebrows.

I had been certain that only disagreements awaited me with the Moon Presence. Ultimately, it was the one calling forth the blood moon, and largely by its will the Orphan enjoyed such freedom—not to mention everything else—but... It seemed that, for whatever reasons, a short, mutually beneficial cooperation between us might exist. And I was ready to gladly accept any help offered.

After all, I still needed to deliver the Rakuyo to Maria.

Spoiler: concept_art31

 

[Lemor]

Chapter 32

"Am I dreaming?"

To Logarius's credit, he met his new dream noticeably calmer and more aware than the first. After all, having survived the inner beast, the Vilebloods, his own hatred for them, and the Church's intrigues, the man could indeed boast considerable... talents.

"We have not seen each other for some time, Logarius," a female voice said quietly.

In that same castle, the old hunter stood opposite the woman on the throne whom he hated with his entire being, understanding, however, that this was not her. But that did not lessen the number of questions.

"Why have you taken... this form again, Master of Sand?" Logarius rasped.

The entity in the body of the hated Annalise leaned lazily against the throne, perfectly mimicking some of the original's mannerisms.

"It keeps you on your toes," the creature smiled affectionately. "A convenient way to set you in a working mood, friend."

For some reason, a chill ran down the old Executioner's spine. Even though the female voice was surprisingly human, and the Sandman himself had said nothing of the sort, the instincts within the hunter cowered like a frightened, cornered animal.

"Is the Sandman angry about something?"

"You are very observant," the female voice confirmed casually. "Something happened that has rather strongly affected my mood."

The illusory heart in the man's chest tightened: even his deepest thoughts were no secret to the Sandman. What must have happened to anger "It"? Gods, Logarius absolutely did not want to know. His task lay elsewhere. The former Executioner frowned.

"What must I do, Sandman?"

"You shall keep me company in the labyrinths, Logarius."

Logarius froze.

"Keep you? Company in the labyrinths? I... do not fully understand, Sandman..."

The woman's appearance transformed, turning into a pale young man with cold, practically lifeless eyes. He slowly rose from the throne, walking unhurriedly toward the tense follower, stopping directly opposite him. A warm, inviting smile crept onto the young man's face.

"Very little time remains before the blood moon rises; we must hurry somewhat. You are one of my most capable clients, well-acquainted with the labyrinths. Your help may prove useful. In any case, this is merely a minor precaution."

The inhumanly affectionate voice, sharply contrasting with the cold, freezing gaze, promised to gift the hunter more than one or two nightmares in the future. The Sandman unexpectedly sighed, turning toward the crumbling throne.

"Do not worry, you will not see nightmares, even if I turn into the most terrible of them."

It seemed the entire macabre atmosphere around the creature dissipated for a moment. Logarius took a bewildered step back.

"I..."

Arthur turned back to him, smiling just a fraction more genuinely.

"We shall see each other very soon, dear client. Goodnight."

***​

I was about to visit the Pthumerian labyrinths in the flesh for the first time. To venture where, it seems, only the first vicar of the Healing Church had once managed to tread, acquiring the blood of Queen Yharnam and offering it to Annalise.

Time was limited. The red moon was due to rise into the sky soon, and despite my unexpected temporary alliance with the Moon Presence, there was no way to adjust this. And, in principle, it wasn't necessary: I would have sought to enter the labyrinths as quickly as possible regardless.

The beast that had not emerged until now, sensing my power, showed me quite vividly that the leap in my capabilities was insufficient. Perhaps with the arrival of the red moon, having plunged into the Orphan of Kos's nightmare in a physical body, I could have returned Maria even in my current condition. But now I needed a guarantee. A guarantee such that no one in this wretched world could take her from me like that again.

Be it the Moon Presence in the flesh, the Formless bastard, or all the Great Ones combined. I might not be able to oppose them openly, but the chance to bite back painfully if need be had to be there: I had enough time to observe Annalise to say this with certainty.

Queen Yharnam clearly knew when and what to offer me.

I did not call Henryk and Gascoigne to join me. Not only because they had already done enough and earned a rest, but also because there was no particular need for them. Truth be told, myself alone and the Moon Presence's perfect weapon should have been enough. The former leader of the Executioners covenant was merely an additional precaution.

I tipped my hat, gripped my cane, and stood at the entrance to the pub. Lily, holding the pot with Thalamus, clearly did not want me to leave.

"I will not be long," I said as softly as possible. "I am sorry I have to leave you alone again..."

The flower in the pot twitched in displeasure. I huffed with exaggerated cheerfulness.

"Just joking. Practically alone. I will return as soon as possible. Thalamus will protect you; he has learned his lesson."

And not only him, but I as well.

The girl's illusion wavered for a moment. She lowered her head, nodding weakly.

"Return... return..."

Lily remained silent for a while, then added quietly:

"...return... return her..."

I gripped my cane until my knuckles cracked, adjusting my hat.

"Without fail, little one."

A grim, masked figure, familiar from the game, was already waiting for me at the entrance under the pouring rain. Who would have thought I would meet Eileen the Crow in person under precisely these circumstances.

"So you are not hiding..." I cast a glance over the impassive figure.

In some ways, the chosen of the Great One resembled true material ghosts from fairy tales: no one noticed them, yet they could roam practically freely through Yharnam without attracting attention. Omnipresent shadows, immortal and potentially mind-numbingly powerful. Truly, the hunters of the Hunter's Dream were the Great One's most perfect weapon.

The only question was how to fight a weapon that, under certain conditions, could even kill its mighty creator?..

"Good Sandman," the elderly woman bowed her head deeply. "From what I understood... there is no need for concealment."

I tapped my cane.

"Come now, come now," I laughed softly. "There is no need for such honours. The owner of the pub is the last person who deserves such treatment, sweetheart."

"I understand."

Excellent.

"As for concealment... You are right. A strange feeling, is it not? As if in a dream."

A chill clearly ran down the elderly woman's spine. She nodded grimly.

"I am... certainly not dreaming, good Sandman?"

I huffed.

"With all due respect, sweetheart, I doubt you will understand my explanation. Perhaps when Flora releases you, you will visit my pub and we shall discuss everything in a more favourable environment. How does that sound, eh?"

"Thank you, good landlord..."

Eileen, completely disregarding my earlier words, bowed her head deeply again, as if I were not the owner of a small pub on the outskirts, but the king himself!

The Moon Presence, consciously or not, had chosen the perfect person for the task: Eileen believed primarily in me and even carried an attribute connected to me in the form of a chalice. I assumed that in this reality, unlike the game world, this was precisely the reason the huntress became the chosen of the Hunter's Dream.

"My dear client should be at the meeting point shortly. We will have to hurry somewhat. Be so kind as not to resist, alright?"

My voice changed, making the huntress shudder. The raindrops around us began to slow, swirling into a vortex. My sandy essence, pushing through the barrier of the artificial Great One around us, burst forth, altering reality according to my will.

Power gives me not only the right to determine whether I reach for the light or the dark, but also to decide what is reality and what is a dream.

I took a step.

The raindrops frozen in the air sharply plummeted downwards; the world before my eyes blurred, and along with it, my dear follower and I did too. She, though tensing because the alien power of yet another creature had seized her again, made no attempt to resist. And thank the Lords of Dreams for that.

We became two imperceptible shadows sweeping through all of Yharnam. One step became equal to ten; buildings ceased to be obstacles. Very soon we found ourselves in the sewers, plunging ever deeper through branching tunnels, bypassing the rare hunter patrols. The filth and stench did not reach us: I had no need for extra dirt on my clothes, and plunging headlong into the atmosphere of dark fantasy held no appeal.

I was already bogged down in it, feeling a ringing emptiness in my soul capable of devouring me at any moment. It seems someone had grown too accustomed to always having her inside, ready to support any topic with her insatiable curiosity. Perhaps there was far more humanity in me than I thought. As it turned out, even small dream spirits wandering through countless worlds, sending vivid dreams, can suffer from loneliness.

How pitiful.

Logarius was waiting for us at one of the descents.

There was practically no lighting as it was, but the old staircase leading into nothing plunged completely into darkness, promising nothing good. I wondered how many lost Yharnamites, never having stumbled upon hunters, had accidentally found such descents and, without realising it, merely plunged deeper into the labyrinths of a fallen civilisation...

The waiting Logarius sensed our approach from afar, but that still didn't stop him from tensing when our figures emerged practically from nowhere with a gust of wind and dissolving particles of sand. Eileen the Crow, unable to withstand the journey, hastily removed her mask, bidding farewell to her breakfast, and began inhaling the less-than-clean sewer air with a somewhat frightening relish. Logarius, surprisingly enough, didn't even bat an eye upon seeing this, though he only grew more tense, gripping his scythe.

"Motion sickness?..." I arched my eyebrows. "I thought hunters had a good vestibular system, sweetheart..."

Eileen coughed, laughing hoarsely.

"I will try to get used to it, good Sandman..."

"There is no need; I won't be giving you such rides often," I reassured the woman, shifting my gaze to the former leader of the Executioners covenant. "I hope you did not have to wait too long, dear client."

Logarius merely nodded.

"As long as necessary."

"The best possible answer," I stared down the descent. "A bit gloomy here, is it not?.."

The hunters had lamps with them, but they provided weak illumination, and fortunately, thanks to me, there was no need for them. I tapped my cane. Reality rippled around me, spreading a faint light.

"This is better, is it not?"

"This is a true miracle, good Kind Lord of Sand," Logarius said quietly.

I pulled a smile onto my face.

"My ale—that is a true miracle. This is merely parlour tricks. Let us not linger."

The old hunters nodded, marking the beginning of the true descent.

***​

As I had mentioned once before, what was a mechanic of instant teleportation to different parts of the labyrinth in the game—sealed by wards opened by Great Chalices—was here a unified system of intersecting labyrinths.

Admittedly, these bloody catacombs were a true marvel of Pthumerian civilisation. One had to possess an inhuman, truly twisted mind just to plan such a monstrous structure, let alone build it. Not that I could blame the former rulers of these islands for anything; their motivation was simply perfect: the game hinted, if not directly then quite unambiguously, that the Pthumerians had worshipped the Great Ones for a very long time.

Their entire civilisation was built around the Great Ones, and these monstrous labyrinths were their... let us say, tombs, perhaps sanctuaries, or something similar. A home where they could feel comfortable. And along with their terrible Gods, the Pthumerians themselves and the rest of the fauna.

We moved quickly, not getting tangled among the numerous forks, plunging ever deeper through the already explored parts of the labyrinth, aiming to reach the practically unexplored sections of this masterpiece of nightmarish engineering.

"What a charming creature..." I drawled.

It was enormous. Three heads taller than me, bloated, malformed, with blades replacing its arms and a black hood over its head. The devil himself would break a leg trying to figure out what it had once been and how much time it had spent in the labyrinths.

Be it giant rats, true spirits stuck in a liminal state between worlds, scorpions, slugs, or lycanthropes scenting fresh blood—my accompanying hunters gave them no chance. A few cannon shots, a couple of swings of the scythe or daggers were enough to solve almost any problem.

Perhaps my clients were only slightly confused by the spirits, but with me, they had no problems and could have none. Upon seeing me, the majority of the spirits would either bow their heads in acknowledgment of seniority or flee. And if previously I had perceived this with a certain degree of irony, too accustomed to my own weakness and the need to dodge and negotiate, now I took it as a matter of course.

However, this was not about the spirits right now.

The beast that blocked our path was different. Hypnos wake me, we were facing a true boss.

"I will handle it, Sandman," Eileen stepped forward.

I obediently stepped back, giving the huntress full freedom, watching the unfolding events with interest. We had managed to form a rather simple strategy: Eileen always went first. At first, Logarius was a little surprised, but he quickly grasped the idea, realising that the hunter of hunters had absolutely no fear of death.

Well, completely justified.

I remembered some battles in the game being quite long. In this world, everything usually happened quickly, if not instantaneously. Mistakes were rarely forgiven, and we were destined to witness precisely that.

I frowned with interest.

The blade pierced the huntress like a hot knife through butter. She barely had time to do anything, merely staring at the blade in surprise. The creature sharply pulled out its blade-arm, allowing the blood-choking huntress to fall.

"Sandman, she..."

"Shh..."

I cut Logarius off mid-sentence, carefully watching the huntress's death. The woman managed one more convulsive breath, but then went limp and...

The world before my eyes shuddered, revealing what it seemed only I could see: the Hunter's Dream, reaching out to its owner in all its terrible magnificence. Giant pillars reaching into the sky; an unremarkable hunter's workshop, where Gehrman rested all this time with the Doll sitting in a field of flowers.

Eileen dissolved into countless particles of energy, vanishing without a single drop of blood on the ground, but not for long.

"I was too overconfident, Sandman..."

Without any wounds, the very same Eileen appeared behind us, effectively risen from the dead. Or, more accurately, she hadn't died at all.

"The projection dies, but not the body..." I murmured thoughtfully. Djura had already shown me much, but I was seeing this process live for the first time. "The Hunter's Dream helps you bypass the veil and exist as if you were a normal living being. Perhaps that is why it feels as though you are dreaming?.."

I spoke barely audibly. So that only individual words could be isolated, explaining practically nothing.

"I do not understand, Sandman..."

Of course you don't. I turned back to Eileen with a huff.

"This is a solvable problem. Logarius, did you understand anything?"

The old hunter frowned, clearly not understanding the question.

"What are you speaking of, kind Sandman?"

Eileen coughed into her fist. Nevertheless, the Moon Presence had created a truly terrifying entity.

Naturally, the beast had no intention of listening to our pleasant conversation. With a hungry roar, it lunged straight at me. Logarius was about to step in front of it, but I merely waved him off, taking a step forward and extending my cane.

I could be soaked in darkness, there could be emptiness deep within my soul, except...

I had the right to decide.

"I suppose you haven't seen bright dreams in a long time, wretched soul?.."

The tip of the cane met the beast's forehead faster than it could impale me on its blades. I tapped it quite softly; ordinarily the creature wouldn't have even scratched itself, but this was not an ordinary case.

The blade stopped right in front of my face. The malformed humanoid beast trembled, dropping to its knees before me with a loud thud. I leaned on my cane, stepping right up to the creature's face hidden behind the old hood, lifting it, staring at the truly vile, frightening, repulsive, disgusting... no, not a face. The muzzle of a creature that had never even been human.

A soft smile crept onto my face, like a loving father seeing his own child after a long separation.

"You are in pain and afraid, are you not?.. I feel your exhaustion... It is a pity I cannot offer you any ale, but at least allow me to end your nightmare."

Something inside the creature before me growled shrilly, trying to kick out, but I was faster and, in a way, more ruthless. I placed a hand on the beast's head, penetrating the very depths of its soul with my power, tearing apart the beast that had long since consumed the consciousness of the once-rational being, after which, unexpectedly to myself, I began to plunge the already agonizingly dying soul into a sweet sleep.

Perhaps a sleep that would last only a moment before death, but would stretch long enough to at least somewhat heal the wounded, starved soul.

The beast's gaze seemed to clear for a moment. The creature did not wheeze, but took a slow, heavy breath, followed by a relieved, weary exhalation.

The final exhalation.

The body fell.

"Shall we move on?..." I turned back to my protégés as if nothing had happened.

Truth be told, I was a little surprised to sense rather strange emotions from Logarius and Eileen. I had been certain that my demonstration would at least frighten them, but...

The hunters' gazes, full of some frightening hope, seemed to awaken something within me.

I do not necessarily need to possess the light within my soul to bring it to the world around me.

Very soon we would find ourselves in parts of the labyrinth where, if a human foot had ever tread, it ended—Lords of Dreams grant—fatally. To be honest, this evoked quite well-deserved respect toward the first vicar of the Church. He was consciously ready to jump into the very depths of the Abyss for a mere ghostly chance at ascension, and he got what he wanted.

Though, ultimately, only a slow transformation into a beast awaited him.

I hoped Queen Yharnam would send word as soon as possible—otherwise, I feared, we might be stuck in these cursed labyrinths for quite some time yet, despite all my abilities...

Spoiler: concept_art32

 

[Lemor]

Chapter 33

"Queen Yharnam did not disappoint..." I stated thoughtfully, turning to my protégés. "The interconnections of this world are astounding, are they not?.."

Obviously, neither Logarius nor Eileen understood me. But, strangely enough, the fact that I spoke completely incomprehensible, sometimes insanely strange things fit perfectly with my image.

"That is so, Sandman," the former Executioner agreed quietly.

I smiled to myself. It was immediately apparent that someone had spent more than a year both in the role of a leader and a subordinate. Here, the mere fact of participation and agreement mattered, not any constructive conversation.

I shifted my gaze to the one because of whom I had decided to mention the dead queen and the interconnections in the first place.

A man stood before us. Or, more likely, a once-man. Pale as death, with a writhing, snake-like creature crawling over his body. The cannon in his hand showed best of all who stood before us—a hunter. A fallen hunter. Lost among the labyrinths, he had somehow managed to survive and attract the attention not only of the dead queen's wandering consciousness, but also of...

One of Amygdala's projections.

The pale hunter clutched a massive bone belonging to my acquaintance in his hands. Grotesque, resembling a giant club, it emanated such a familiar, eerie power that I could recognise it among thousands of shades.

After my contact with Formless Oedon, the projection of the Great One had not shown itself, but obviously continued to invisibly participate in the proceedings, somehow influencing the events. A neutral observer with its own goals.

I, the Sandman; Queen Yharnam, who had sent one holding a connection to the Great Amygdala; Eileen, who worshipped me but served the goals of the Moon Presence; and even Logarius, invisibly tied to the Church, thereby creating even more connections. We were all somehow connected to one another, our interests intersected, we came into conflict and collaborated.

Still, our little city was one big village. How charming.

"You look tired, my friend," I said with a smile.

"My name is Vallar," an elderly voice whispered. "I will guide you, Sandman..."

"Come to me."

It was not a request. Rather, it was the voice with which leaders issue commands to their direct subordinates. The madman was clearly surprised by my words; a strange grimace flashed across his face, his gaze began to dart, and his body trembled. He doubted, feared, hated, holding a conversation simultaneously with himself...

And not with himself.

"Yes..."

Twitching, barely restraining himself from lunging at his prey, he approached me, staring straight into my eyes. I saw that this was no classic beast or simply a maddened human before me. If only a little, I could help.

"Relax, my friend..." I whispered, extending a hand. "You will feel a little better now, just don't forget to drink my ale later—you owe me..."

The snake-like creature hissed but dared not attack me. I touched the pale, elderly head. The body, sensing far from pleasant sensations, tried to jerk, but...

Still, I was in no mood to force a show of warmth out of myself, already extinguished after recent events. Vallar opened his mouth, unable to resist; he stared into my eyes with a certain desperation, evidently seeing something far from good in them.

Well, in vain.

Vallar's eyes rolled back, his body went limp, but did not fall. His exhausted consciousness journeyed into the depths of sleep, and my essence kept it company. My power allowed me to act roughly, but I did not exercise this right, instead acting as I had when I was still a very weak dream spirit: I carefully reached for the familiar associations of the dream's owner, replacing them with my sand. An inflamed, maddened consciousness wouldn't have noticed the deception even back when I was a weakling, let alone now...

And there was no need to speak of the inner beast—the will swirling inside the madman wouldn't even think of barking at me.

Inside the dream, time flowed differently. I allowed the former hunter to rest, reaching out to early memories of the past, where he had lived a quite ordinary, peaceful life. The mutant hardly understood what he was seeing or why, but... that didn't stop his tormented soul from resting a little and returning to a past he barely remembered. A past that didn't even exist, for I merely simulated it from distorted fragments of memories, adding significantly more of my own.

But who cares?..

Outside the world of dreams, not a moment had passed. Our guide opened his eyes, nearly dropping his... club. For a moment, it seemed to me that not a maddened mutant was looking at me, but an entirely ordinary human. There was no fear, no terror, nor anything else in his gaze.

"Thank you..."

I smiled politely.

"I am in a bit of a hurry, my friend. A soul that is dear to me needs help, you understand?"

"Yes... yes..."

If, before my slight intervention, the madman had helped us rather in spite of himself, now he did so of his own free will. What will he had left.

Time in the labyrinth flowed strangely. No, quite normally—there were no spatial distortions—but determining the time of day was impossible. We navigated by a watch, and I had enough methods to know the exact time, but the monotonous descent ever deeper into the labyrinths, with occasional encounters with the inhabitants of the local zoo, still made its mark.

Besides, I was the only one who truly didn't need rest. My allies, including the self-appointed guide, were slowly but surely tiring. From the battles, from the cold walls and narrow passages, from the need to plunge into what seemed like the Abyss itself.

Usually, they probably tried not to think that their entire world was one giant Abyss.

I felt the red moon drawing ever closer. The air felt lighter, and even the area of my power seemed to slowly expand further. With every hour, the world whispered louder and louder that just a little more and my essence would finally break free, subjugating materiality to my single thought.

There was a simple explanation for this slow yet inevitable process:

There is a slight error in the phrasing I usually use. The red moon does not rise in the usual sense of the word. Rather, the Moon Presence simply gradually suppresses the will of the false Great One in order to manifest more of its own power. The red moon never descends. It simply manifests when the veil of the Waking World thins. And then it vanishes once more.

Previously, I had thought the Moon Presence simply couldn't reach the Great One created by Byrgenwerth for some reason. Of course, I had doubts, considered other options, yet mostly settled on this reason. But a better understanding of the Great Ones and contact with the Formless bastard provided a more logical explanation, aligning well with Flora's cautious nature:

Rom's existence simply helps her for now. Concealing the red moon and the presence of the veil not only hinders but also brings benefits while the Moon Presence gathers blood and shapes its own body. Formless Oedon could not freely contact us, let alone reach us, but the existence of the veil provides its benefits most of the time. It turned out that by the time of the game's events, that benefit from the unfortunate transformed student was already gone.

Of course, this didn't provide answers to all the questions even remotely, leaving plenty of contradictions and food for thought—but now was not the best time to dwell on it.

Eventually, we reached Yharnam's tomb and prison.

"Here..."

The sent mutant had done his job and even bothered to point in the right direction with a hand as skeletal as death. A true professional. We stopped before the gates. Large, massive, full of strange depictions, they were, however, unsealed—as if inviting us inside.

"Excellent. Thank you, Vallar. You haven't forgotten our little arrangement, have you?.. When you see fit, call me, and the Sand Bowl will visit you itself, if you so desire."

An ugly, but no less genuine, happy smile spread across the madman's face.

"Good Sandman... Good..."

The snake-like creature hissed in agreement.

Charming.

The madman, having fully completed his task, turned around and headed back without saying goodbye, soon disappearing among the countless labyrinths. I saw how Logarius and Eileen, who had been tense all this time, slowly exhaled. An ordinary—and even an extraordinary—person wouldn't have noticed the shift in their grim mood at all, but not me.

"He is not bad," I closed my eyes briefly. "Wait for me here."

"We can help, Sandman," Eileen said doubtfully. "That is why I am... we are here."

The elderly huntress cast a quick glance at the former Executioner.

"If the Sandman said we need to stay here, then we will not be of any help to him," Logarius stared at the open gates with a cold gaze. "We would only become a burden..."

"You are absolutely right," I nodded benevolently to the man. "I will not be long."

I boldly took a step into the unknown.

It turned out to be spacious inside. What I saw before me heavily reminded me of the arena from the game. Empty, cold, this place could hardly be called the tomb of the immortal queen of a quite advanced extinct race. However, a single look at Yharnam made it clear that thousands of years ago, events occurred that clearly pointed to... contradictions among the Pthumerians.

Bound in chains, with a ripped-open belly, dressed in something akin to a wedding dress, she created an image that was not even eerie, but...

Desperate and sorrowful.

The immortal was fully conscious, staring at me with dead eyes.

"Queen Yharnam," I removed my hat, bowing out of respect for the immortal's patience and suffering. "Do not consider it rude, but it is rather damp in here."

"Sandman..." Yharnam drawled. "Please, help my child, Sandman..."

I didn't know how vastly the Pthumerians surpassed humans, but their consciousness was definitively stronger than a human's: no human could withstand several thousand years in captivity, wandering as a formless spirit. Unfortunately, even taking into account an inhuman consciousness and transformation into a more... supernatural being, passing through such an ordeal without a trace was impossible.

I nodded.

"Mergo, is it not? You want me to grant liberation to his wet nurse and..." I trailed off, deep in thought. "What fate do you wish for your poor child, Queen?"

From the woman's bloodied, ripped-open belly came the cry of a dead infant. So loud and piercing it could inadvertently drive one mad. In a way, Mergo's fate resembled the fate of the Orphan of Kos: they were Great Ones already born dead.

"Free his soul," the woman's face contorted. "Please... Grant him peace... Protect him..."

"From his father," I narrowed my eyes. "Formless Oedon has become a bone in the throat for many beings, has he not?"

The Pthumerian Queen nodded slowly.

"Every Great One loses its child, and then yearns for a surrogate," the queen spoke in an otherworldly, chilling voice. "The Great Oedon thirsts to sow as many seeds as possible... To reach this world... Stop him..."

Offspring are a wonderful beacon. Even if they are dead or stuck in a liminal state between life and death. For the Great Ones, who carry their will through blood, it meant even more.

I did not know the motives of every Great One seeking a replacement for a dead child, but the Formless bastard certainly did not want to simply become a decent multidimensional father. Too heavy, too powerful, he, like I just recently, wanted to incarnate. And children could help him in this like no one else.

Without even trying to conceal my state of mind, which was clearly far from the light, I smiled coldly. I wonder if, upon learning about me, he felt wrath, realising that his ultimate desire was fulfilled by some little, arrogant spirit?..

The queen could not fail to notice the changes in me.

"Your sand is no longer golden..." Yharnam tilted her head. "Have you decided to become more sincere?"

I was so astonished by the question that I opened my eyes wide in surprise, then laughed out loud. Such an interpretation of my fall was too absurd. It was so amusing due to my own view of what was happening that even trying to hold back my laughter would have been sacrilege.

Morpheus put me to sleep—to the Pthumerian Queen, my light was just a fake! I, reaching for the light, enjoying the warmth emanating from me, had never been anyone or anything good in her eyes from the very beginning.

And, at the same time, not bad either.

The name and image of the Sandman carries too many possible interpretations, and the light coming from me is merely an outer shell. I slowly calmed down, still feeling the amusement tearing from the depths of my soul.

"That is an interesting question. It is a pity I do not have time to discuss it with you. You can feel it, can you not?.."

The queen nodded.

The veil was thinning. The red moon was drawing closer.

I stepped right up to the Pthumerian. Even though a humanoid, she bore little resemblance to humans: taller than an ordinary human, yet insanely thin, with a long, pointed face.

"Do you also wish for liberation, sweetheart?..." I arched my eyebrows. "You should have enough strength to break free from here yourself, should you not?"

She could break her chains, but all this time she hadn't done it.

"He could take advantage of that," the queen said with unbearable pain and exhaustion in her voice.

Lords of Dreams, a situation worthy of dark fantasy.

"I see," I sighed. A thought unexpectedly arose in my mind. "The first vicar of the Church... Did you try to strike a deal with him too, but he deceived you?"

"I tried to find a suitable person for a long time," the queen's eyes turned icy again. "But I never found one... Please, help my child, Sandman..."

"I will do everything and more. But for that, I will need power. The power that remains in you."

"Take it... take this curse entirely... Just please... fulfil your promise..."

The queen, which clearly would not have pleased her servants, fell to her knees before me, tilting her head, exposing her neck, staring at me with a mad gaze. I'd wager that if I dared break my promise, she would dig me out even in my next lives.

Though...

Who said I intended to break it?

I ran my tongue over my teeth, realising there wasn't really any other way. Who would have thought the Sandman would end up pretending to be something of a classic vampire. Annalise would be thrilled. Very soon I would likely have to fulfil my part of the agreement with her...

I sank my teeth into the immortal Pthumerian's neck, feeling a truly special blood, unlike any beast's, penetrate my body. It did not require purification like ordinary blood. Perhaps for a moment I even understood why Annalise loved blood so much: the pleasure I experienced was hard to compare to anything else.

Like sweet nectar, a forbidden fruit worth all the riches of the world, it penetrated my body, changing it even further. The voices of the beings who believed in me grew even louder; my perception expanded, pushing me to a new level of existence. Processes that were bound to happen over time anyway accelerated manifold.

I pulled away from the queen's neck, feeling my entire body trembling. Through tonnes of earth, the red moon appeared before me.

"Oh, Lords of Dreams..." I rustled.

My body changed, taking the form of grey sand, solidified in the already familiar visage of Arthur Sand. And, as if reminding me of how I had traversed this path so quickly...

"How many eyes..." I uttered thoughtfully.

My entire sandy body was covered in eyes. Different ones, large and small, they lived a life of their own, looking at each other with curiosity. But that was only the peak of the transformation.

I lowered my gaze to the queen, whose eyes were fading right in front of me.

"Allow me to see you off in a more welcoming place..."

My dream burst into materiality. The image of the pub superimposed itself directly onto the queen's tomb and prison. Not the one on the outskirts of Yharnam, but mine: more modern, spacious, combining a piece of this time as well as another, more advanced one. A moment later, my sandy body became entirely ordinary again, made of flesh and blood, and even the extra eyes vanished.

After all, even though my blood had drawn me much closer to the Great Ones than I perhaps desired, I had not become a Great One because of it. I am the Sandman, and I will remain so.

I smiled.

"Welcome to the Sand Bowl pub, sweetheart. Ale, is it not?.."

In the truest sense of the word, the dying queen poorly understood the meaning of my ritual, but did not resist, obediently accepting the mug of ale. There was something very ironic in the fact that I had drunk her blood, only to treat her to a drop of my own. Nevertheless, the effect was there.

Crystal clear tears flowed from the woman's eyes; she exhaled, smiling.

"Th-than..."

"Thank me in your next life, when I fulfil my part of the deal," I said ironically. "And now, look into my eyes, sweetheart..."

Yharnam obeyed without question, staring into my eyes. Brown, completely ordinary, they still enchanted the woman's soul, sending her into a final dream. Vivid, sending her thousands of years into the past, before the onset of all the horror, where there are and never were any Great Ones. An ordinary, peaceful reign, an ordinary marriage of convenience, a beloved child, and a quiet old age with the knowledge that the future promised to be cloudless.

Something the queen could no longer even dream of.

"Oh, good Sandman..." she whispered, finally departing this world.

I reached out with my power to her soul, carefully grasping it.

"You might experience a little turbulence, but believe me, it is for your own good. Goodnight," I said quietly, and then...

Let us say, I gave the soul a nudge.

My power plunged into the Dream Realm in an invisible stream of sand, imperceptibly carrying the queen's essence so far that she would inevitably break free from this wretched world and, encountering no obstacles in the form of Formless bastards, proceed to the cycle of reincarnation. The pub dissipated as if it had never been, and along with it, the queen's body.

I remained standing alone in complete silence, listening to the surrounding space.

"...It didn't work out, did it?.. Underestimated me, thought I would fall into madness again. What a pity... Truth be told, I underestimated myself too. But that isn't my problem, it's yours, is it not, friend?.."

There was no answer, but a cold wind blew through the space, promising me nothing good.

Well, the feeling is mutual.

I turned around and headed for the exit, tapping my cane. Logarius and Eileen were waiting for me, expecting new instructions.

"Everything went well. Your work is done, Logarius. You will receive your reward later; for now, you may rest. I have a separate matter waiting with Eileen. Goodnight."

I poked the surprised Executioner with my cane; his eyes went wide before he plummeted through space, sent back to the surface.

"Oh Gods..."

Eileen the Crow clearly understood that I had gained my benefit from the descent.

"We are heading to the Orphan of Kos's nightmare, huntress. And after that—together we shall visit the Hunter's Dream. Hold your breath for a moment, sweetheart."

The huntress barely had time to stare at me in fear before I grabbed her by the scruff of the neck, plunging into the dream world in the flesh for the first time, setting off in search of the stable nightmare, creating a veritable sandstorm in the Dream Realm just by existing.

It was time to return my brazenly stolen priestess. Taking back what was stolen already feels somehow odd, damn it all!..

Spoiler: concept_art33

 

[Lemor]

Chapter 34

To brazenly invade the personal space of a godlike being—previously, the very thought of it seemed mad to me, simply impossible in its foolishness. But descending into the dream world in the flesh seemed even more impossible.

The material world is much denser, much more real and structured. If matter enters a weakly structured space, a storm will erupt in the Dream Realm. My very existence became a true nightmare for the Dream Realm. Wherever I passed, unstructured energy turned into sand flying behind me; the inhabitants of the plane dared not come anywhere near the sandstorm that inevitably moved toward its goal. When the red moon passes, I will not be able to plunge into the dream world so easily, but right now my power could unfold to its fullest, which I used without a twinge of conscience.

A sandy path built itself toward the nightmare. The Dream Realm knew what the contender for the title of Lord desired, and it obeyed without question. Had my mind been weaker, had I not known how to direct my thoughts and keep them in check, I would have become the embodiment of chaos. Fortunately, my mind was more than developed enough to handle my own power. It is a pity that this did not apply to many Great Ones. Perhaps, had they taken some preparatory courses before acquiring their power, this cursed dark fantasy would have been slightly less grim.

In the game, it was Amygdala who transported the player to the place called the Hunter's Nightmare. A domain controlled by a dead child. A nightmare where, for quite obvious reasons, blood-drunk hunters flocked. I intended to cleanse this place alongside the immortal huntress, and I did not need a guide to slip inside.

"Where are we?"

Eileen's voice was full of poorly concealed terror. Even though she was a rather tough huntress, one should not forget that she still remained human, not devoid of fear. What she saw before her and subconsciously felt could not leave her in good spirits. A sky that seemed frozen in twilight. Air literally saturated with inhuman suffering. A sense of unreality; with every turn of the head, the maddening brain signalled that something... wrong was happening.

I inhaled deeply the blood-soaked air, lowering my gaze to my completely bloodied footwear. A veritable river of blood opened up before us, stretching seemingly into infinity.

Now I began to understand why the Orphan of Kos did not dispose of the intruder in its own nightmare the very moment the hunter appeared in foreign halls in the game. Firstly, the nightmare belonged far from solely to the orphan. Rather, to a greater or lesser degree, to everyone who ended up here. There was simply no control over the space, as if the Great Ones did not care about such a trifle at all. Secondly, this place turned out to be so vast and chaotic that even for me, were I the owner of the nightmare, noticing the arrival of intruders would not be all that simple. And that is provided I consciously controlled the area. The Orphan was simply not sentient enough to even try to control anything.

I did not notice myself begin to speak quietly.

"Too many intertwined souls, too many owners influencing the nightmare in isolated spots, too much suffering, seemingly coiled through all space into a spiral..."

An awful, pitiful sight, unworthy of such a powerful creature. In the game, the state of the nightmare was even more repulsive, and all those hunters who were supposed to die along with the so-called 'Old Yharnam' were not here—but did that make it any easier?.. Not particularly.

My whisper clearly did not add to the elderly huntress's peace of mind. I sighed.

"This place is called the Hunter's Nightmare."

I took a step, pulling my foot out of the bloody puddle, standing on the liquid as if stepping onto an ordinary solid object. It was likely so real that, even if I ascended into the material world, the blood would not disappear. I wonder how many real... things there were in this place?

"The Hunter's... Nightmare?"

From Eileen's tone, one could tell she was already guessing something.

"Yes," I answered with a smile, looking attentively through the mask into the woman's eyes. "You will do your usual work and hunt the hunters. You will cleanse this place and grant the tormented souls peace. Your... temporary peculiarity will allow you to do this. Do not worry, I will handle the bigger fish and the master of this nightmare myself."

"Leaving me here alone is a true crime, good Sandman..." Eileen laughed quietly, with palpable exhaustion.

"When I resolve my issues, I will help you finish with the rest," I reassured Eileen.

"I understand."

Good.

I took a step, crumbling into sand, venturing into the very depths of this nightmare.

***​

The Hunter's Nightmare was a haven for practically all blood-drunk hunters. Intentionally or not, the nightmare consumed them, giving the dead souls no rest. The phenomenon was interesting. I allowed that the Orphan deliberately hunted foul-smelling souls, but something told me that the nightmare itself unconsciously strove to absorb the fallen souls.

In any case, that was the last thing that interested me right now.

My first stop was the area belonging to the soul of the first vicar of the Church. Oh, I very much wanted to see such an entertaining personality, even if nothing remained of that personality. The Hunter's Nightmare harboured many interesting figures, and I very much wanted to see at least two of them.

My body materialised in a cathedral. A cathedral seemingly copied directly from the Healing Church. Large, spacious, and cold, merely being inside it was quite uncomfortable. However, what else could one expect from the nightmare of such a rare talent?..

"You created a truly monstrous organisation, my friend. And you found a disciple to match yourself. Unfortunately, that will not save your brainchild."

My voice echoed through the false cathedral, clearly reaching the beast's ears. Huge, wreathed in flames, it sat lazily upon a giant throne like a resting king, completely ignoring me. I can imagine what a horror it was for the Church when their highly respected vicar, a true leader guiding the entire Church, turned into this. How much did they burn him, that this fire reflected upon his very soul?..

Laurence knew that the inner beast was consuming him. And, evidently, that is why he allowed the Choir to emerge. His life was not worth as much as the idea and the faith.

I shook my head, realising that the beast would ignore me until the very end, until I fulfilled a certain condition. Fortunately, I absolutely did not give a damn about that condition. Only a madman would search for a single skull in this maelstrom of horror.

My power reached out to the beast and, even if it desperately wanted to, the beast could not ignore it. A wild shriek rang out through the cathedral, flames flared, space began to deform, trying to resist an alien will, but to no avail. The beast's flame-wreathed muzzle appeared right in front of me, attempting to bite, experiencing neither fear nor doubt. Truly, a unique beast, born in a unique man.

"You must be wondering what became of the Church during your absence..." I narrowed my eyes. "Do you know what madness Gehrman committed? You two didn't just happen to get along so well back then..."

My only answer was the mad howl of an irrational beast. I felt not a hint of intellect from the first vicar; the emotions, too, belonged to the beast, and not to a human at all.

A pity. That is probably how one could describe almost the entirety of bloody Bloodborne—a pity.

The cane vanished from my hands. My body turned to sand; I reached for the flame-engulfed head, my mind brushing against the mind... against what remained of the beast. I created an entire world before the creature's eyes, in which the first vicar's beast saw the Church. It saw old acquaintances and what had happened to them. And, I must say, the beast clearly did not like what it saw.

"Master Willem... Master Willem..."

I stared at the beast in surprise, then laughed merrily.

"You respected the Master so much that even the beast was imbued with this respect?.. I haven't seen anything like this before..."

The beast, interrupting itself with a growling howl and attempts to devour me, continued to repeat the name of the Byrgenwerth scholar.

"I suppose I will inevitably visit him. I am not sure this will calm you, but I can promise that I will show the Master enough respect. How does that sound, Laurence?"

The beast, surprising me once more, calmed down a bit, ceasing to repeat Willem's name. Still, the inner beast, despite being born of an alien will, was a part of the original personality. The beast grew from it, fed on it, gradually taking over.

A unique beast for a unique man, eh?

"That is wonderful. You look so tired... You are a true monster who deserved your punishment, but no soul deserves eternal torment. You shall see a sweet dream that will grant you long-awaited peace. In exchange... just try to be a little kinder to living beings in your next life, alright?.. Goodnight, First Vicar."

The cathedral began to collapse, consumed by a sandstorm. The last thing the beast saw as it drowned amidst the sands was a sweet dream, full of hopes and dreams.

***​

This place was not only a prison for blood-soaked sinners. Innocent souls were here too, and they became my next target.

Little Lily was still considered a 'small' Celestial Emissary. In the Church's understanding, she was almost a failure, an unsuccessful product, a defect upon which further experiments were warranted. In the game, one could encounter a full-fledged Celestial Emissary, noticeably stronger and more capable, wielding a vast array of supernatural abilities. But there were even more unique specimens dwelling in the nightmare.

I stopped in a clearing of white sunflowers, planted around a tree covered in those same sunflowers. The nature of the sunflowers reminded me of the flowers growing in little Lily's consciousness, but the differences were visible to the naked eye. Oh, they were very real, which could not help but intrigue me.

Is it possible I could take a couple for Lily?..

The tree of white sunflowers was surrounded by beings similar to the Celestial Emissaries: elongated, practically bloodless, with unnaturally long arms and hooked fingers, with seemingly burst, malformed heads, they knelt before the tree as if praying to it. The plant, as if from the depths of the cosmos, produced a strange, mysterious hum.

"Living Failures," I smiled. "A fitting moniker, indeed... I got a little delayed, friends."

The transformed ones slowly turned to me, reaching out with their long arms. The air of the nightmare vibrated, opening a rift into the cosmic void. Still, despite all its horrors, an amazing world.

Right beneath my feet, a sandstorm began to swirl.

***​

Truth be told, I didn't exactly want to meet Ludwig again. The hunter, consumed by the cursed sword and the inner beast, even though he was a loyal follower of the Church sincerely striving for the best, was perceived by me rather simply as a fanatical fool who handled his job well up to a certain point. Fanaticism itself can be directed into the right channel, but a truly dangerous fanatic must have brains.

I liked Karl and Micolash much more in this regard: they were rare bastards, ready to commit any madness, yet one could work with them. To expect that they wouldn't do anything stupid, despite all their madness. Moreover, I knew what I could buy them with, and I was sure I was paying enough so they wouldn't even think of making mistakes, knowing the price of failure.

Ludwig deserved respect for his surprisingly pure motives and loyalty, but... his mindset was too different from mine.

And yet, I came. Despite everything, he did not deserve his fate. And, since I was the one in this world who brought him to this state, it was I who ought to free his soul.

"I see you've already managed to devour many in such a short time, Ludwig," I huffed. "The holy sword followed you even here..."

Filth. It was hard to call this area of the nightmare anything else. Everything was piled with eternally rotting, fused corpses. Everything was flooded with blood, from the floor to the walls and even the ceiling, from which chunks of someone's flesh fell now and then. The culprit of the celebration was a chimera combining the features of a huge beast, a horse, and perhaps some alien creature that blended the traits of many beings.

The Holy Moonlight Sword clearly belonged to the Pthumerian civilisation. The real question was what this... horse was doing in the sword. What was the purpose of this artefact? Who exactly created it and what guided them when they did?

I was a little interested in studying it. Perhaps sometime in my free time. Though first I needed to finally resolve the issue with the dead man.

"Sandman..." Ludwig's voice rang out from the equine maw. "Did you come... to mock me?"

Upon seeing me, he did not rush to attack. Instead, he continued to lie among the gnawed bones, studying me closely.

"That would be too petty," I replied matter-of-factly, examining the carcass. "Your mentor just cannot calm down, can he?"

"You... you were the one who did this..."

"Oh, it was only a matter of time," I shrugged. "In any case, at that moment I truly wasn't feeling my best. I have come to correct an oversight."

"You want to... want to..."

"Merely to grant you peace."

The neigh of a horse, transitioning into hysterical human laughter, became my answer. The carcass rose, holding the sword shining with moonlight in its hands.

"Monster!" roared Ludwig. "Monster!!!"

I huffed. My body turned to sand, numerous eyes opened, fixing their gaze upon the carcass.

And once again, a storm began. I needed to hurry to Maria.

***​

I walked unhurriedly through the immense hall. What was supposed to be a clinic, but in reality turned out to be a place for the Healing Church's inhuman experiments. The dimensions of this place were astonishing. Construction had clearly taken a long time and required vast resources, but organised fanatics who have seized power are rarely stopped by such trifles.

I heard the screams of patients experiencing unbearable torment echoing here and there. They called for Maria, completely convinced they were undergoing treatment under the care of the kind beauty, feeling guilty before her for their... brokenness.

"Wait just a little longer, and you will resolve this matter forever yourself, sweetheart..."

My voice echoed through the countless corridors, drowning out the patients' screams. The sandstorm followed me, but somewhere... off to the side, allowing this area of the horrifying nightmare to exist for now.

Maria was found exactly where she was supposed to be—in the Astral Clocktower. With a bloodied collar, deathly pale, just as in our first meeting, she dozed quietly, though submerged in a nightmare within a nightmare. A personal hell, from which there would normally be only one way out—dying by the hands of the Moon Presence's chosen one. Perhaps, despite all my efforts, Maria still desired this, but, I am afraid...

I was a greedy creature who wanted to see a different outcome.

I approached the sleeping girl closely, reaching my hand out to her, not at all surprised by what happened next. A power undreamt of by humans suddenly seized me. I smiled, staring into Maria's cold, dead eyes.

"Cannot wake up?.."

Maria released my hand, allowing me to step back. I watched her behaviour with interest, expecting some words, but none followed. The bloodied girl rose, reaching for her Rakuyo. They seemed to have been at her side all this time, rather than manifesting out of thin air.

"What wonderful potential. But this is just a fake, darling. Have you already forgotten that I have the original?"

A combat stance became my answer, followed by a dash. I had not undergone any specific training, nor had I fought monsters on the brink of life and death. Rather, I myself was the monster being fought. Instead of trying to dodge the girl's blades, I brazenly passed through her as sand, ending up behind her, allowing myself an unheard-of liberty by embracing the girl from behind.

"You know me well enough, Maria," I whispered in her ear. "I can no longer be defeated like this."

The girl broke free from the grip, jumping back.

A dash.

As if we were playing tag, somewhat resembling a frolicking little dream spirit, I laughed, simply turning into sand once more, not allowing the girl to reach me.

However, the real game of tag began after that. Being in an unconscious state, Maria stubbornly continued to attack me, growing stronger with each swing. It seemed the girl enjoyed this sort of battle much more than our earlier dance: I saw true grace, a love for blades that she displayed in every one of her movements. Perhaps she had liked our earlier dance, but, obviously, the attempt to kill me pleased her, consciously or not, much more. The very fact of the battle, the opportunity to show her skill.

I believe such girls were called 'tomboys'?.. How charming.

I continued to evade all attempts to reach me, allowing the girl to give it her all. At some point, she truly stopped holding back, resorting to what she wielded by right of blood. Maria dragged the blades, which flared with an otherworldly light, across her own body, sprinkling them with her own blood. Her actions bore more of a psychological nature: after all, her body had long since been dead, and now in this manner she merely turned, out of habit, to the power hidden within her cursed soul.

And, I must admit, Maria truly was powerful. The cursed blood resonated with the surrounding space; the girl became even faster and even stronger. Her blood, as if alive, reached out to me on its own, and unlike ordinary attempts to reach me, now she truly did have a chance. She would have had one once upon a time.

But now the outcome could only be one.

"How strong is the Orphan of Kos's hatred for you, that it sent you so far into the nightmare... I am sorry I could not protect you from this..."

Maria's body froze, no matter how she tried to break free. With the clang of steel, the Rakuyo fell from her hands, crumbling into nothingness. I approached the girl, gently lifting her chin, seeing nothing but solid cold emptiness in her eyes.

This did not suit me.

"There has been a wall of misunderstanding between us for some time now. Unfortunately, darling, no matter how much humanity is left in me, I am too far removed from your feelings. Previously I considered this a sufficient reason to maintain a little distance between us, but your disappearance showed me that I am capable of experiencing other, completely different emotions. I believe we can reach a... compromise."

I smiled, then slowly opened my mouth, sticking out my tongue and biting it until it bled. Lifting the girl's face with all possible tenderness, I kissed her, reaching out with my mind to hers, literally forcing her to swallow my blood. From the surging power, bearing the imprint of Yharnam's energy, the girl's body shook in convulsions; in response, I merely embraced the soul that was dear to me, soothing her mind with mine, sharing my own feelings and emotions, continuing to closely monitor her condition.

Fortunately, Maria did not let me down.

"Judging by everything, you are feeling much better, darling," I said with amusement in my voice.

My answer was round eyes full of bewilderment. I saw how Maria tried with all her might to hide her bursting emotions, but, I am afraid, deceiving me was rather difficult—and she couldn't have deceived an ordinary person right now either: too obvious a blush had appeared on the deathly pale girl. Right now, there was probably more warmth in her than ever before.

"Arthur..."

I hugged the girl even tighter, gently stroking her head.

"You do not need to say anything; I know what is happening in your soul. You can calmly give vent to your emotions."

Evidently, my words reached Maria after all. Tears flowed from the girl's eyes; feeling that no force was restraining her anymore, she clung tightly to me, barely keeping herself from bursting into tears. Unfortunately, her pride simply would not allow her to truly burst into tears.

But, I suppose, even so the result was more than satisfactory.

Almost.

The girl broke free from my embrace for a moment, but only so that she herself could reach for another kiss. Obviously, she was striving for a new, quite pleasant feeling, and I had no intention of denying her anything, intending to satisfy her every desire. After all, I had spent far too long as a dream spirit, sending sentient beings dreams in which practically all their desires were realised.

I don't think I need to elaborate on what that meant and how much I could offer my priestess.

The main thing was not to let her forget herself and to remind her in time that we were still in the nightmare of a godlike dead child, driving one mad just by its cursed existence—but, I think, that could wait a little.

Just a tiny bit.

Spoiler: concept_art34