Dungeon of the Abyss

He was finally dead. That's right, Gwyn, the Lord of Cinder, was finally dead. His lifeless body now lay on the ashen surface of the kiln of the first flame, with my blade lodged in it. Gone was the all-powerful Lord of Sunlight who rebelled against the dragons with spears of lightning and ushered in the age of fire. All that remained was a pitiful being resembling the hollows inhabiting the undead asylum.

I quickly absorbed his soul like always and his corpse dissolved to nothing before I knew it. My body then gave in to the many injuries plaguing it and collapsed to the ground after I holstered my sword. The familiar sensation of death gripped my conscience, but I kept going.

Bones aching, my fingers clawed at the ground, pulling myself towards the bonfire meant to house the first flame. I could not even see tiny embers. The age of fire was truly on its last legs and now I would fulfil my duty as the Chosen Undead; to link the first flame and remove the curse of the undead.

"What a load of shit." My hoarse voice jeered.

I knew that slimy serpent Frampt was using me for its own purposes and lied to me about what would really happen.

However, I truly didn't care anymore.

Everyone I considered a friend was already dead, hollowed out by the brutality of Lordran, and put to rest by my very own hand. Even a man who was the only ray of true sunshine in a land shrouded in darkness couldn't withstand it. After his death, I only knew solitude.

"This is it."

I now lay in front of the bonfire of the first flame. Without a speck of hesitation, I lit it; I had nothing left to lose.

Orange flames erupted from the ashes of the bonfire and engulfed my body. My mind, body, and soul all burned under its intense power. Despite that, I didn't cry out in pain or suffering. Instead, relief washed over me as my suffering was finally ending.

Sure, the fire caused excruciating pain. Each inch of my body scorched under its unquenchable thirst for destruction. Except, my pleasant experience in the Demon Ruins and Lost Izalith gave me a powerful resistance to the agony of burning. Not to mention, the things which detected pain in the first place soon charred and no longer functioned. I was comfortably numb.

Then it happened. The flame burst forth and spread across the whole kiln in a gigantic explosion.

Before my mind faded to darkness, the events of my life replayed from the earliest I could recall. From the breakout at the Undead Asylum to the gut-wrenching cesspool of Blightown. From the assholes of Anor Londo to the abyss of New Londo. I saw it all.

It's quite difficult to believe I went from a naked hollow with nothing but a club and wooden plank as a shield to a literal god slayer.

I guessed I owed it all to a knight from Astora who freed me all those years ago. Even now, his name is unknown to me despite wearing armour identical to his.

I guess that's another regret added to the list…

And then darkness took over.

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The uncomfortable sensation of moist grass rubbing against my skin forced me awake. A flurry of thoughts emerged in my mind. Had I failed? Why was I back at Firelink Shrine? What in Gwyn's name was happening? How the hell was I still alive?

My eyes pried themselves apart, and I found myself in a lush forest. The peaceful chirping of birds and a cool, calming breeze brushed past me. This was neither Firelink nor Darkroot.

"Where the hell am I?"

I stood up from the ground a lot faster than normal.

My gaze shifted to my body.

"My armour…"

It all was gone. All that remained was my Balder Side Sword in its holster, hanging on by a miniscule strap of charred leather. I didn't even possess any Estus Flasks, and my bottomless box was nowhere to be seen.

On the bright side, I had not yet reverted to my hollowed state. My body felt different, though. Foreign sensations were flooding my mind. And I became aware I no longer possessed any of my strength. Hell, even a hollow from the asylum now posed a threat.

"What do I do from now on?"

My one chance to die had failed. I no longer had a purpose.

After brooding for a while and deciding I had nothing better to do, I ended up wandering the forest. It was odd; no trees stood up from their hiding spots to attack me in fact, there weren't any hostile creatures at all.

I almost felt… safe.

Ha, the forest was lulling me into a false sense of security.

You were never safe, no matter where you went. Any speck of carelessness would get you sent back to the nearest bonfire.

My equipment wasn't exactly ideal either. My waist was wrapped in a torn cloth accompanied by a string to tie it in place. This was the first time since the undead asylum that I had been this ill-prepared.

I kept walking for what felt like hours. My legs protested, and my throat became dry. Weird.

The feeling grew stronger as I kept going. Something was very wrong.

I crashed against the trunk of a tree. A piercing headache pricked my mind and my legs felt like rubber.

"What is happening to me?" I gasped, regaining my balance.

This couldn't be what I think it is, can it? I felt nothing like this when I was in Lordran, yet it felt familiar. Ignoring the pain, my hand traced the surface of my back and landed on where the darksign was supposed to be.

Hot, my entire back was hot, not just the darksign.

"The curse... i-it's gone?"