67 Chapter 67: The True Meaning of Despair

I was currently standing over Artorias' soon-to-be corpse. I contemplated over my choices, I could try saving Artorias.

/But why should I?/

He tried to kill me. He may have come here with a noble cause to save the princess but died trying. Now he tried to murder me because of his own mistake. Causing me a large inconvenience. Why should I try saving some weak loser that tried killing me after his own failure?

It's not my job to save his life. Nor do I have any responsibility to. If I held the responsibility to try and save any valiant warrior with honorable conviction I saw then I would probably kill myself permanently.

No matter how noble Artorias seemed, honorable fools like him are not too rare in my version of lordran. He wanted to fight the big bad evil and save the princess. A story that is a dime a dozen in Lordran.

They all wanted to fight the big bad evil and save the world. If I felt like it was my responsibility to save Artorias' life then why didn't I go out of my way to save them too? What makes him special exactly?

A sob story did not make him deserve anything. Sympathy points do not get you saved, nor does it make you special.

You had a good life, a prestigious knight of Gwyn, had a lover(?) had fame, had friends. You were born as a lord, had everything. Yet you threw everything away because of your retardedness.

Now people cry over you as a "Valiant hero who sacrificed his life to kill Manus". You left your shield behind to save your best friend? Left behind a weeping lover?

Cry me a fucking river.

If a sob story like that got you salvation then I would be in heaven right now.

By all means, it is more reasonable to just absorb his soul for power. The moment he tried to attack me his life was already over in my eyes. I could also give his soul to his grieving partner for a funeral.

But what made me this strong wasn't charity.

I got here by being ruthless. The door was up in the sky so I built a mountain of my own corpses to reach it.

Whatever was possible I did it. All for the sake of power. I killed and let people die for power when I could try talking. If it was a threat to me then it had to die.

Then why am I hesitating?

A weak sob story isn't enough to move. I have heard and personally seen far, far worse. But then why...?

A knight who had a righteous cause and lost his life trying to achieve it.

It felt like I was looking at a disgusting mirror of myself. A resemblance so uncanny that it unnerved me greatly. A failed version of myself.

/Could I even call myself the successful version though?/

Tsk. Lucky bastard.

I put my hand over his chest and reached into his soul with my own. His soul was nearly completely consumed by the abyss, purple and black abyss plaguing it, yet a small shard of it persisted still. He could be saved. /How envious/

I spend over an hour surgically removing the abyss from his soul trying hard to damage whatever is left. I subsumed all abyss inside, raising the proficiency of Umbra in the process.

By the time it was over I collapsed a bit away from Artorias while drenched in sweat. While I was resting on a couch I summoned just contemplating my miserable existence a visitor decided to visit.

After all the action of course. It would kill any own Gwyn's subjects instantly if they did anything remotely productive or useful for once.

From a side glance, I saw a female figure slightly shorter than me in royalish assassin West with two color-coded weapons. Celery or whatever her name was. She looked at Artorias' (former) corpse, and then back to me.

"...Are you human? ...How did you...? I am immensely grateful for saving Artorias. I-"

"Sure, whatever. Just take him away, no need for any thanks for anything just count the big lug lucky. Just make sure he rests for a decade or so with that damaged soul of his."

I just waved her away. I truly did not have the mental capacity left to continue a conversation. But despite my words which could be roughly translated to "Fuck off" she quietly and respectfully bowed 90°.

"Although I know that there isn't possibly anything I could do to repay this debt to you, I still want to thank you, human. For giving me my dear Artorias back. I know this may not nearly be enough but I only hope these can be of aid to you, for I won't need them any longer."

After hearing my grunt of vague affirmation she set her blades down and dragged Artorias away with surprising strength. Leaving it to just me in the middle of an empty colosseum laying on a couch.

Hopefully, she won't notice his missing sword. Or at least ask me for it.

After making sure she left I went up to the twin blades and took them, yes I may have not asked her for compensation but I would be a fool to refuse a freebie when it is given.

Trying hard to not think about the reason behind my actions as well as their consequences I left the colosseum to continue my journey.

...

Oolacile. The land of sorceries and the home of light. The ones who invented the light branch of sorcery, which they knowingly or not did by imitating Gwyn's soul and his authority over light and time.

Now complete ruins inhabited only by distorted humanoid figures. But the more I stare at them the more haunting they become and the more I understand about them. Their bloated heads and their long-limbed bodies with their animalistic behavior alongside their uncomfortable amount of strength.

They have been regressed, their bodies resemble apes as much as they do humans, and their souls are absolutely disgusting. Like a burning black swamp. These are being whose humanities have been devoured and went wild, turning them into little more than primal animalistic hollows.

And the dark sorceries of the sorcerers are... offputting. While their use of darkness certainly piqued my curiosity it also unnerved me. Like a gnawing feeling on the back of my mind saying I should remember yet I was too far gone to do so.

Being in this place and traversing it was unnerving. the deeper one went the worse this place seemed to get. It was like diving into the ocean. The deeper one went the worse it got, even tendrils of abyss started creeping in.

The very space of this place seemed warped, the physics and geometry didn't make sense. Buildings were falling apart yet weren't. And why were there so many dungeons, ruins, and prisons?

I could see hollows that were hanged and stabbed and everything in between. What the fuck was this place!? This place is nearly the size of Anor Londo yet the entirety of it is basically dead, overtaken by the abyss. The abyss formed giant chasms. The whole land was basically sinking.

...

...I have explored this place enough.

I'm not... surprised, or dumbfounded by this. I just, I just thought this place would've been different! I heard this place was in tune with nature, its people rather kind and intellectual.

/Seems like I was a fool for even having hope for this world./

I have read their logs. They found the potential of humanity and focused on it blindly. And when simple research wasn't enough they decided to see what happens when humanity is pushed to the brink.

Thousands of innocents were tortured brutally, hanged, beaten, and impaled with spikes and chains. Forcefully kept alive using sorcery until their very humanities got out of control.

The worst though, is how they desecrated the grave of the primeval man. Tempted by the words of the FUCKING SNAKE they dug down until they stumbled upon the grave long forgotten. But, being the absolute retards they were, instead of leaving the grave of the primeval man they dug it up.

They awoke him from his rest, they tortured him endlessly. Just for their curiosity. They woke up the primeval man and tortured him for shits and giggles.

Ripped apart everything he had, broke every part of him. Destroyed him completely. Until he had nothing, left his pendant last. He displayed extraordinary willpower and so they tore the last thing he had left in front of him.

And they got what they wanted. They saw what happened when humanity itself was pushed to its limit. Now they stay as distorted hollows, doomed to be eternally tormented, rendered falsely immortal by the primeval man. Their whole land sunk down and their people's very death's desecrated.

When I read all of this I felt a part of just... die. I couldn't put my finger on it but it just killed me inside for some reason.

I had reached the bottom of the chasm, and easily saved Sif, not even fighting the humanities, just gently driving them away and comforting them. They deserved the rest.

But when I reached in front of Manus' arena I felt my world just... stop.

Dread.

D R E A D

A being incomprehensibly strong. Odds so impossible, aura so overwhelming that my body just stopped. The absolute rage and melancholy emanating from it were so impossibly dense that it made me wince.

A being out of my league. Just like the Asylum Demon. An actual god. Its soul not split like the four kings or seath. Its power not divided and mutated like the bed of chaos. Not deteriorated like Nito.

One of the 4 gods. Not just at his prime, but beyond it. A lord soul that has been pushed to a breaking point. Creating a monstrosity beyond belief.

This is the furtive Pygmy himself. This is Manus, a being comparable to Gwyn at his prime, maybe even beyond that. He sunk this entire land by himself, the progenitor of all humanity. Father of humanity and Abyss. A being of power incomparable to me.

The chances of me even being able to challenge it were abysmally low.

But do I even want to challenge it?

.

..

...

..

.

What do I do now?

I came here for answers yet there are none.

I sat atop the colosseum I defeated Artorias at. The very peak that overlooked nearly all of Oolacile. The sight was enchanting yet I felt... nothing.

What do I do...? There is nothing left here is there?

I guess there is the rest of the world to search a purpose for? And if I don't find anything.

*Sigh*

'...'

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