279 My CO Stash #79 - The Good Hunter by StaffSergeant (BloodborneXMonsterGirlEncyclopedia)

-Another author that nails the concept of the level-headed, pragmatic protagonist in an Isekai situation~ I also recommend his other works, specifically the Bloodborne fics, they're pretty great!

Sypnosis: The Hunter is adrift and he is not sure the Waking World was supposed to be this strange. Set during the Fall of Lescatie and beyond, watch as a man tormented by the Night of the Hunt tries to find his purpose in a new world... (I'm a bit short on ideas so...yeah, this is just something I'd like to take out for now.)

Rated: M

Words: 68K

Posted on: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13259463/1/The-Good-Hunter (StaffSergeant)

PS: If you're not able to copy/paste the link, you have everything in here to find it, by simply searching the author and the story title. It sucks that you can't copy links on mobile (´ー｀)

-I'll be putting the chapter ones of all the fanfics mentioned, to give you guys a sample if you wan't more please do go to the website and support the author! (And maybe even convince them to start uploading chapters in here as well!)

Chapter 1-3 (exceptional)

The Hunter Adrift

Lescatie. The City of Heroes. It was a powerful seat of the Order, where many veteran heroes were trained and dwelt. It was also a center of culture and refinement, but like many cities that claimed to be the jewels of their kingdoms it also had its own darker aspects. The nobility and clergy were in full control of how the city was ruled. In contrast to the dazzling noble estates and the rich district, the slums were where desperation and hunger ruled and existence was decided by the red blood thirst of a knife blade.

For a man like the Good Hunter, who worked as a caravan guard on good days, Lescatie was home. For now at least. Cyril Sutherland looked up at the stone gate as he sat in the back of a wagon, cradling his Saw Cleaver in his lap. The Hunter's client, a red haired merchant by the name of Alice Lindolm, was busy steering her cart. She did not glance at the mysterious young mercenary she had hired on as a guard.

A Hunter of Beasts. That was what he had called himself and it worked so far. Cyril thought it best to keep his true origins a secret. The Waking World was a strange place, but he did not survive the fateful Night of the Hunt by being complacent. Cyril exhaled through his nose as he kept his head on a swivel. Lescatie may have been a stronghold of humanity but that didn't mean the monsters outside were the only troublemakers.

He had encountered human enemies in Yharnam too. Cyril was disappointed but not surprised to find that it was true here also. He kept a loose grip on his Saw Cleaver as he readied the pistol holstered at his side. Tall, lean and sinister the Hunter was garbed in nondescript clothing under a gray long coat. A tattered tricorne hat sat on his black, gray streaked hair. His features were also obscured by a bandanna that covered the lower half of his face. It was a force of habit that he knew he would never break until his dying day.

Cyril was not looking to attract any attention to himself. Not from the Order. And most certainly not from the beasts that lay outside Lescatie's borders. The monsters who sought the souls of men. If they wanted a fight, they would get one. Cyril hated what he had become, but that did not mean he was a reluctant killer. No, if he had to deal death then so be it.

The Hunter felt the wagon wheel to a stop, shaking him out of his thoughts.

"We're here!" Alice chirped with good cheer. "Thanks again Mister Hunter! I really would have gotten more guards but nobody wanted to accept the payment!"

Cyril shrugged. The cowardice of others wasn't his problem, besides it opened up more opportunity for money anyway. He was hoping to save up enough to buy some land in an isolated area. A place to finally rest his head, months of traveling was getting tiresome. Months of living in the slums, making decent money and fending off thieves was even worse. All he wanted was a nice, quiet farm in an isolated area.

"It is no trouble, Miss Lindolm." He replied politely, but distantly. His voice was muffled by the bandanna he wore. "I suppose you will be staying here for a few days?"

"Mm!" Alice nodded with a smile. "Then, I'll be heading into Order territory so I should be safer." She bowed. "Thank you for helping me! I wasn't sure I would have escaped from those Werewolves if you hadn't been there! What..." At this her head tilted curiously. "What were you doing out there in the first place?"

Cyril shrugged again. "Wandering." He said to her. It was technically the truth although the group of werewolves was honestly a surprise for him as well. He had killed them all without prejudice, of course. A beast was a beast, after all.

And Hunters would always hunt beasts no matter what skin they wore.

/

"Good Hunter."

The Workshop was burning. The Doll and the Hunter stood facing each other in front of it. The Doll's face was the ultimate expression of serenity, but there was a sadness in her eyes. The Hunter sensed the end of things, and honestly wished that he had had more time to spend with her.

It hurt to realize, in the end, that he loved her all the same. And if he finished what he had started then he would never see her again.

"You have come. Dawn will soon break and this night and this dream shall end. Gehrman awaits you at the foot of the great tree."

She gave him a gentle smile. "Farewell, Good Hunter."

The Hunter nodded solemnly and they both bowed, knowing full well that they would ever see each other ever again. He stepped down the path that would lead him to where Gehrman waited. This was it. The end of everything.

Dawn was coming. And whether he lived to see it was in fate's cruel hands.

He walked through the field of white asphodels Saw Cleaver in hand as he finally saw where Gehrman was. He walked, even as he felt the weight of his burdens on his shoulders.

"Good Hunter. You have done well." Gehrman spoke as the Hunter finally stopped. "The night is near its end. Now, I will show you mercy. You will die, forget the dream and awake under the morning sun. You will be freed, from this terrible Hunter's Dream."

Mercy. A fine reward for what he had endured. But the Hunter had one last Nightmare to slay. One last favor he owed Gehrman. He refused. He shook his head. Gehrman, seeing at what the Hunter was doing, gave a sad but poignant smile. One that was filled with not just understanding but also a sense of pride.

For almost an eternity Hunter after Hunter had perished under his wing. But this young man, this brave soul had surprised him. He had often wondered just who would be skilled enough to take his mantle. Now it seemed that the time had come to look at the results.

"Dear oh Dear..." He spoke with a chuckle. "What was it? The Hunt? The Blood...or the horrible Dream?"

The Hunter tensed as Gehrman rose from his chair for the first time in what seemed to be a millennia.

"Oh. It doesn't matter. It always comes down to the Hunter's helper to clean up after these sorts of messes."

The Hunter readied his Saw Cleaver as Gehrman revealed his weapon, a great scythe that unfolded from his back.

"Tonight, Gehrman joins the Hunt."

/

Cyril blinked. It had been quite a while since that night, when he had fought Gehrman and left behind his precious Evetta in the Hunter's Dream. The Good Hunter looked to his left, realizing that he had dropped the book he was reading when he fell asleep. The candle was still burning but it was about half of its original size.

The book's title was the Monster Girl Encyclopedia. A bestiary of the monster girls one would encounter in this world. Cyril had bumped into a man who seemed to be in quite a bit of a hurry in the village he had been staying at. The man had dropped this book and Cyril had picked it up, leafing through the pages. It honestly was the strangest thing he had ever read, nothing like the mind blasting grimoires he encountered in Byrgenwerth. He had at first thought the book to be the work of a degenerate or a madman and had tried to search for the person who dropped it but had no such luck. Cyril decided to keep it...whether as kindling or to actually read it, he could not say. Although, judging from the general tone of the guide it seemed that any Order fanatic would charge him as a heretic if they went through his belongings.

The last idiot who tried that with him was now buried alive somewhere.

Cyril scratched at his head as he looked around, still drowsy. The slums of Lescatie were filled with abandoned houses, their former owners having either died or had gone elsewhere to seek better fortunes. The house was small but it served his purposes greatly. It wasn't comfortable but Cyril was long inured to discomforts. The Night of the Hunt demanded many things, and humanity was one of the things he had sacrificed to get through it.

The Hunter placed the book back on the small table and stood up. It was a fine night but the last dream was concerning. He had not thought about that night for many days. Why was it coming back? He surely hoped that it was not a dark omen of troubled times ahead. Cyril lay back against the makeshift bed of hay and tried to get back to sleep.

He had to find work again tomorrow morning, and while the Order could use all the men it could get to combat the monsters he was not looking to get involved in their crusades against the forces of the Demon Lord. Cyril crossed his arms and lowered his hat over his closed eyes.

This time he was snoring within five minutes.

That night, on the borders of Lescatie…

Night was always a time of the day that Demons enjoyed. To a mamono, the nighttime was ripe for sneaking into your husband's bed after a long day of work and making love. To feel the warmth of a male beside you, to hear him whisper your name as you were both carried away by a sea of passion.

Ursula, Captain of the 4th Company, and a Demon of the Fourth daughter's High Court, smiled as she looked up at the full moon. The Demon's pretty face was split by a smile as she imagined being held by a man of high esteem. She stood to her full height and inhaled, smelling a light breeze.

She was a woman, with dusky blue skin. Her modesty was barely preserved by a leotard that left little to the imagination. Her form was perfect, an hourglass figure which balanced out with a considerable height. Long, toned legs were covered by thigh high leggings and black iron greaves and leather boots. Sharp, predatory horns grew out of the sides of her head. A pair of black, leathery wings flapped lazily on her back while a tail, with a spade tip, waved sensually behind her.

Her heart shaped face was framed by dark hair. Lascivious crimson irises set in pools of black gleamed seductively. She was a woman and she knew it.

Ursula looked over to the west, to their destination. Lescatie, a seat of the foolish Order that dared to oppose the Demon Lord's will and the ambition of her own liege.

Druella, the Fourth Daughter and Princess of Royal Makai the seat of the Demon Lord herself.

The Demon made her way back to camp to where her subordinates waited. She heard the scrape of steel and knew Demeter was sharpening her blades.

The Dullahan made to salute but stopped when Ursula raised a hand. The Dullahan's head was separated from the body which was sitting on a log next to a ghostly fire. Ursula knew there were other fires like this, each one surrounded by ten mamono, all of them combat veterans of the highest order. Each one seeking their own prisoner in the invasion to come, but that desire was tempered by the fierce discipline that Ursula trained thoroughly into her soldiers. All Demons in Ursula's clan were like this, her mother and her mother's mother were warriors. It was an unbreakable lineage that stretched back into the age of former demon lords, during reigns of fire and blood and screams.

"Has our agent arrived yet?" Ursula asked, her voice a silky contralto.

"Not yet, Mistress." Demeter replied, dutifully. "There is nothing to report from Seras or from Fina either."

"How about the morale of our troops?" Ursula asked grinning.

"Their blood is up and they are impatient but there are no incidents." Demeter answered. "Our steel is strong as is our conviction."

"I see." Ursula smirked. "Walk with me, my dear."

Ursula and Demeter made their way to the monster camp, walking through the rows of tents hidden by the master mages of the 4th company who held an honored position in Druella's army. Hence why they were sent here first, to scout out the area around Lescatie. They just needed a good route, perfect timing and then...Lescatie would be theirs for the taking.

Ursula could not wait. If there was worthy prey in the city of Lescatie then she hoped they weren't too easy to conquer and break.

She wanted a challenge. She wanted an equal.

Another successful job, one that took all day and here he was back at the city trying to get paid. It was a simple job, just escorting a farmer and his sons back to the village. Why the man had decided to leave at night was beyond him, but a job was a job.

Cyril counted out his coin, thanked the receptionist at the Adventurer's Guild in Lescatie and walked out of the building. The Hunter adjusted his hat and walked outside into the rain. Well, if he had a successful job he supposed with his luck the universe would have to balance itself out somehow. At least, he had some coin to support his simple lifestyle. He just needed more gold to get some land. Somehow.

The Hunter exhaled as he closed up his coat. The rain was surprising, and not welcome at all. It was almost Fall, and the chill of winter would soon set in, he'd have to reinforce his current living area and get some firewood when the cold inevitably set in.

Wonderful.

Cyril saw a crowd gathering as a carriage passed by. The noble crest indicated who the family was. Lescatie was owned by pretty big wigs who were close to the king. The divide between peasant and noble was clear during those moments. The Hunter didn't care in the slightest. He had his own way of living and everyone else had theirs, there was no point in trying to change anything. Even if he technically was capable of doing so, what was the point? Everyone suffers whether they wanted to or not.

And he was pretty sure the Order had bigger problems to deal with anyway. Cyril was sure that the monsters they constantly threw men and women at counted as bigger problems. The Hunter kept going, enduring the rain and wind as he always did as he made his way back to his ramshackle and humble home.

The crowd eventually thinned as the view of the carriage faded. Cyril didn't bother looking for it. He passed by an orphanage where someone far more kindhearted than he was took care of children who lost their mothers and fathers to man and monster. He fished some coin out of his coin purse and dropped it at the lonely stone basket. It was a habit that he formed when he had first "moved in". The route he took always passed this place and from time to time he had seen the children who lived here, they waved and he simply waved back even if their glances were wary and cautious. They must not like foreigners, these Lescatians. He kept that thought to himself.

Then again, he was always armed with his Saw Cleaver and Hunter's Pistol worn with open hostility. One could never be too careful during the Night of the Hunt and paranoia was indeed a blessing and a curse in his opinion.

"Ah, wait! You there in the hat!"

Cyril stopped and turned back around, curious.

A woman was standing in the rain, wearing a cloak to ward off the rain. She had sea green long hair and was wearing the vestments of a priestess of the Order. She looked beautiful, but utterly exhausted. Cyril recognized her expression because he wore it constantly. The Hunter blinked as he stared at her.

"Yes?" He asked, voice muffled by the cloth mask he wore.

The rain was falling harder now.

"Did you drop coins in that stone basket just now?" The woman asked. "Um...I would like to thank you for donating but...I've never seen you around."

Cyril shrugged his shoulders. "I've been doing it for the past few months." He said plainly. "I moved in...hmm, maybe a few months ago back in the spring time. Apologies, I work as a caravan guard when I am able."

"I...see." The woman said with a kind smile. "Please, do come in. We do not have much, but it would be rude to turn you away without serving some kind of refreshment."

"Apologies, but I have not even gotten your name." Cyril's tone was not unkind but he maintained a certain decorum. He was not about to enter a young woman's dwelling unannounced. "It would be unwise for me to just barge in."

"Ah." The woman nodded. "I see, I see. I understand." She made a curtsy. "I am Sasha Fullmoon. Pleased to make your acquaintance sir."

/

Sasha watched the man when she straightened from her curtsy. He was...strong. A veteran hero like her could see that. He was tall and lean, garbed in outlandish clothes. The tattered hat that sat on his head gave him a beast like visage, his demeanor resembled a scarred and gruesome predator at rest. Even as they stood at a distance Sasha knew the man was observing her for weaknesses to exploit but whether he did so consciously or subconsciously she did not know.

Still, if he was willing to sacrifice a small amount of coin for an orphanage full of children then surely he must have some form of honor right?

To her surprise the man bowed with such grace, Sasha wondered if he was a disgraced noble on the run.

"My name is Cyril Sutherland, a Hunter adrift. I am pleased to make your acquaintance as well, Miss Sasha."

/

The orphanage was based in a small church and judging from the way some of the older children were doing chores it seemed that things here were not so good. It beat dying in the streets though. Cyril ignored the curious stares, merely following his hostess towards the back area where a makeshift kitchen had been established.

"I'm sorry. Our building is in such disrepair that..." Sasha started but then smiled sadly. "The older children do what they can but alas...this is where I ended up caring for them."

Cyril answered. "You have caused no offense." He looked at her with a bland expression. "The roof of my home also leaks if it helps in any way."

Sasha giggled.

Eventually, Cyril was presented with a cup of tea and a small hunk of bread. It was simple fair but it would do. He didn't have anything else to work on, sometimes he enjoyed just sitting down and relaxing. The Hunter often had a brief moment of paralysis, a voice in head telling him to keep moving and that he was in danger. It was...surreal that he was doing this right now, when during that fateful night he was always on the move, always fighting, always killing.

Always dying. A parade of horrific visions went through his mind and he briefly forgot that he was in an orphanage full of children.

"What brought you to Lescatie, if I may ask, Sir Cyril?"

The Hunter blinked out of his reverie. "Nothing." He answered. "It was just a place I was consistently told to visit, people say it's the safest place from the monsters."

"It is." Sasha said. There was something in her tone that made Cyril a mite bit concerned, more so than the fact that she had closed her eyes and sighed. "If...only safety did not come at the cost of the people's prosperity."

Cyril unconsciously scanned his eyes around the church. While Sasha did have a point, Cyril knew that everything in life had a price. He knew that very well. Even then, he admired Sasha for her kindness.

"Salvation often comes at a heavy price." Cyril said softly. He looked outside at the setting sun. He smiled and quickly covered his face again with his bandanna. "Apologies. I did not realize it was getting late. I should get going home."

Sasha bowed her head. "It was nice meeting you, Master Cyril. May you have a blessed evening."

/

Cyril stopped as he heard the faint tune of a music box playing. He never had that on display. The Hunter's eyes narrowed as he readied his Saw Cleaver. He stalked forward towards the back door. There didn't seem to be any signs of forced entry so someone was a skilled lock picker.

The Good Hunter exhaled. This was most...irritating. The guards in Lescatie were worse than useless if they could not sense the intruder within their walls. The smell was...female, but off. Sickly and sweet, like crushed flowers. Cyril's eyes narrowed as he opened the door slowly, Saw Cleaver in hand. He could hear the music box, the very same one he had been given by a little girl who sought her father during that one fateful night.

The fact that someone would dare touch that memory caused his blood to boil.

Cyril entered the house he had used as a dwelling, and stared down the creature that had dared intrude upon his home.

The female creature looked human, but it was obvious she wasn't judging from the way that a long slender tail waved and wiggled through the air. Black hair, tied into a functional pony tail, pale skin she was garbed in what amounted to a pink sleeveless top. Hardly enough to cover her modesty, although she at least had the sense to wear leggings and light armor.

She held a short sword in one hand, one that she now readied as she saw the owner of the home she had just intruded upon.

"Oh." She said. Her face was obscured by a fox mask, her tone muffled but it was clear she was not expecting someone.

Cyril raised his Saw Cleaver.

/

Murasaki was a Kunoichi, a succubus ninja as her friend in her cadre like to say. She was good at infiltration work, a dab hand at sewing and a fantastic swimmer if she liked to brag. A swordswoman who could hold her own. Nothing during her long years of training would have ever prepared her for the ferocious assault that came from a man who called himself a Hunter.

The Kunoichi barely had time to bring her sword up to block when the demented weapon in the man's hand slammed into her kodachi with the force of a hurricane. Murasaki hit the wall with a grunt of pain, she then had to sidestep as the man swung again making every attempt at killing her. His weapon cleaved into a table. Murasaki swallowed, underneath her mask her eyes had widened at the utter destruction this man was capable of.

"Wait." She said to him, trying to sound as nonthreatening as possible. "We don't have to fight."

The man said nothing, merely continuing to observe her, like a butcher wondering how to serve the best cut of meat. That was what disturbed Murasaki the most. Ordinary men were easy prey for succubi like her, they weren't able to resist. But this man, she sensed nothing from him, his mana was completely gone.

Murasaki swallowed again. Instead, she felt an aura of lethality, a contempt that warned off all sentient life. His eyes were...cold. Lifeless. But whoever was inside that gaze had not only shattered, but had rebuilt himself into something dangerous. Something horrifying. The Kunoichi was in over her head. There was no way she was going to seduce this man.

Ursula and the others had to be warned.

She did not notice the fist that slammed into her face, sending her flying back into the door which fell open. She spilled into the street. Murasaki's ears rang as she felt her shattered mask break into pieces. The Kunoichi staggered up to her feet, looking back at the man who advanced out of his house. His menacing countenance did nothing to help her growing fear.

"You can run. You can fight. You can bleed." The man told her, his voice monotone but laced with a cold fury. "You can do all of that. But I will find you. And I will slaughter the rest of your misbegotten kind if you come after me."

Swearing liberally under her breath, Murasaki ran for it. Dimly she heard footsteps and realized that the man was coming after her. Her heart hammered in her chest as a primordial fear of death, something she fought with all her will, began to surge through her body. She ran down one street, heading for one of the city walls, one of which was in disrepair. There was a culvert at its base that she used to enter.

Murasaki looked behind her, the man was gone. Did she lose him? Was she home free? She stopped running and then climbed up the wall of an abandoned house and stayed hiding on the roof. She panted, looking at her hand which was shaking. The Order Heroes were dangerous adversaries for monsters but many of them were charmed by monsters like herself.

This...man, whoever he was, he was strong. Just as strong as a veteran hero. But he had no blessing from a god, or any mana. That and he was more than willing to kill her. The Demon Lord Lilith, blessed be her name, disliked killing but was pragmatic enough to know that banning it was foolhardy. With a heavy heart, Murasaki gripped her kodachi tight.

She was going to have to kill this man if she was going to stand a chance at escaping. Or, failing that, wounding him severely enough to drive him away. There was no other way. Everyone had to be warned, someone dangerous had come to Lescatie but for what purpose-

Click.

Her opponent was already behind her. Hanging on to the same roof she had clambered onto, the man pointed a worn flintlock pistol at the back of her head. Murasaki dropped her sword. She heard it clang on the ground below.

"Your name." He stated, his voice cold enough to freeze a river.

"Murasaki." The Kunoichi answered, shakily. She was going to die. She knew it. One trigger pull and the man would splatter her brains all over the ground and her friends would not even be able to find her body. "Murasaki Natsume."

"Who do you work for, Murasaki?" The question was monotone.

"The Fourth Princess of the Demon Realm. I am a Kunoichi in her service." Murasaki answered. "She seeks this city, to conquer it. We all do in order to further her goals. To make the land tremble with the cries of monsters."

"Are you a good one?" The man asked her.

"I...I do my best to complete my objectives." Murasaki answered the question. "I am not the best."

"Is that all?"

Murasaki began to tremble. She just spilled out their objectives, and the man didn't care at all. She had to keep talking, find some way out of this but the barrel of the pistol remained where it was. One shot and she'd be sent to her death. Never to be able to find a husband or have children. She would never return to her home in triumph. Never retire to raise her children or live beside the husband she had found.

"I...I want to be married. I want to find a husband." Murasaki sobbed. "I want to live. That's all I want. I didn't come here to hurt people. I just...I just want to be a mother."

/

Cyril didn't bat an eye. The Hunter had read in the Encyclopedia that monsters sought human males for companionship...The girl whose head he was about to ventilate began to cry as she waited for the end. The Hunter let the barrel drift. He could kill her but then that would attract attention from the Order, because there was a body near his dwelling. If he let her go, she would report his existence to her mistress or whoever was in charge. The bigger issue was the presence of an oncoming army about to hit this place harder than a Cleric Beast after blood.

The Good Hunter bit the inside of his cheek in frustration. He was about to just get this over with. He lowered his pistol. "Do not face me." He said quietly. "I have chosen to give you mercy, but let me make one thing clear: You will not reveal my presence to your mistress. If you do so and she decides to send people after me, I will send them back in pieces. I will then hunt you down and I will kill you all."

He glared at the back of the Kunoichi's head. "Nod if you understand."

The girl nodded.

"Get out of my sight."

Cyril watched her go then slid off the roof and landed deftly on his feet. He kicked the wall of the abandoned house in frustration. He closed his eyes and let out a breath. Wonderful. He was going to be involved in a war, one way or another.

Cyril exhaled.

He hated his life.

Chapter 2

Heroes of the Order

"Thank you once again!"

Cyril tipped his hat politely at the receptionist at the table and quietly pocketed his coin. A few more jobs and he could probably afford to get a horse, grab whatever belongings he had in his shabby house and leave Lescatie for good. A week had passed since he had encountered his first monster, and he was already annoyed with the situation.

Firstly, because she had a hand on the music box he owned and secondly he had demolished the only damned table in the house like a degenerate madman. He had a few crates that he had managed to salvage from other abandoned houses but they were all too low, forcing him to stoop over it like an idiot whenever he was eating supper. It may have been a small discomfort but it was still quite infuriating. Thirdly, he didn't have time to go around looking for furniture because now the Order was taking their duties a bit more seriously.

The guards were going around asking questions about possible monster sightings, they had taken particular interest in those who left and returned the city frequently. People like mercenaries and adventurers who had contact with monsters outside of the city.

People like him. Cyril sighed as he blended in with the crowd, something he had long practiced when he entered the Waking World but it won't be enough. Someone would eventually be on his tail and he didn't like that. Worse, things could escalate enough that marshal law would be enacted. He wasn't looking forward to that kind of restriction to his travel at all.

Cyril glanced back cautiously to see if anyone followed him from the adventurer's guild, saw nothing and continued on his journey home. The Good Hunter's stride was slow, he had such troublesome things on his mind that he felt frustrated. It must have shown in his body language because everyone kept away from the gray coated stranger. He looked up to see a troop of guards out on patrol. Cyril quickly changed his route, heading to a side street that would lead into the slums. At least, the presence of the Order was lessened here...for now at least.

Still, this was going to be troublesome. Perhaps he should have killed that thing that had entered his home unannounced. It certainly would have been easier to just bury the body somewhere.

The Hunter entered his abode and removed his hat, lowering his bandanna in the process. His eyes scanned the room and found what he was looking for. A broom. Good. He had some sweeping to do before the day was out. Cyril placed his hat back on and picked up the broom, he began sweeping the front entrance of his home, leaving the door open.

He soon lost himself in the monotony of the task of sweeping the floor of dust and other debris.

/

Wilmarina Noscrim was a Hero, chosen by the Chief God to become the sword and shield of Lescatie. She did not look like it, being that she was only seventeen and on the cusp of adulthood. She looked like an ordinary young girl save for the sword at her side and the hidden aura of divine strength that rushed through her veins. The blessings of the Chief God were given to those who were worthy, and Wilmarina would continue to prove herself worthy of that trust.

She was the strongest hero to have been born in Lescatie and she had just left the orphanage where her superior, Sasha Fullmoon, took care of those orphans. This had been the second time that she had missed him, her childhood friend Elton.

It made her feel guilty, knowing what had happened to him and his parents. What her father did, a black mark that stained her soul. She knew what her father did, and every day she felt nothing but raw uncompromising hatred for the man. For what she did to the one precious person in her life. Wilmarina exhaled shakily and quickly cast her heretical thoughts from her mind.

She was Wilmarina the Hero. And right now, she had an ongoing investigation to go through. She was not about to be distracted by such petty notions of conflict. When the clergy had tasked its holy men and women to search for any signs of infiltration, it made her question the orders. What kind of monstrous foe would seek to destroy the nation of Lescatie? The impenetrable jewel of the Order? Wilmarina kept walking and that was when she saw him.

A stranger was sweeping the outside of his house. Wilmarina had never seen someone so tall and foreboding. A tattered tricorne hat and cloth bandanna hid his features from view. He held the broom and swept dust and dirt out of his home in a monotonous display, his posture was that of a weary man who had seen far too much in a previous life. Wilmarina knew a warrior when she saw one, and this one was strong. Weary, but strong.

"E-Excuse me."

The man ignored her, sweeping his home still. Wilmarina frowned. She hated to use her status but being brushed off like this...It was annoying and rude certainly. Was the man deaf? She hated to think about something-

"Yes?" The man asked, not facing her. He was still sweeping. "You'll have to pardon the mess...The slums are naturally not very clean."

Wilmarina looked around and saw a beggar point at her nervously before running off. "I can...see that." She said. "Um...you don't look like you're from around here."

"So I have been told." Was the pedantic answer. "I just moved in a few months ago, and no I am not interested in joining any Order crusade. I've done more than enough soldiering."

Wilmarina blinked. That was not what she was going to ask at all. So this man had dealt with monsters too?

"B-But surely...You have seen what the monsters do to the innocent people? Can't you at least consider-"

"I have. And I am done with this conversation." His voice quieted to a whisper but Wilmarina did not mistake the chill in his tone for joviality. The man turned to face her with dead eyes and an expressionless mask of a face. But, she could tell that his patience was wearing thin.

"I-I apologize." Wilmarina said stiffly. "For disturbing you and causing you distress, good sir. Have a good day."

She left, head down. Wilmarina took one last look as the man continued sweeping before she marched back to the Noscrim estates. She knew Sasha was not mistaken, that her neighbor was a kind, if strange man that made donations to her orphanage. But whatever he was angry about involved her and she did not know why.

/

Cyril knew who that blue haired girl was. Wilmarina Noscrim was the strongest hero in Lescatie and she just came up here for a chat. The Hunter watched her go and that was it. He could have killed her right then and there, but that was a battle not worth risking. He had to be patient and discreet and that meant not starting fights like last night. He was still annoyed about that. He was also annoyed at the fact that Order recruiters were snooping around his abode. His eyes narrowed in irritation.

Fuming, Cyril exhaled through his nose as he finished his chores for the day. He locked the door and headed towards the market. He had enough gold to keep him supplied but he still really needed more coin to get the hell out of dodge and into better territories, and hopefully way before anything major happened like a crusade. Preferably somewhere neutral, where he did not have to deal with man or monster. The Hunter meandered through the market, purchasing his food for supper and other supplies which included lantern oil for his fire bombs.

Collecting bottles was easy enough, many of the slum folk drunk wine to try and forget their situations. It was just too bad it didn't really work for long so they brought more wine. Cyril had been kind enough to take their empty bottles at least. Fire was essential in a beast hunt and many humans did not take too well to being set on fire, and Cyril knew that because he had gotten rid of more than one bandit camp with fire. The Hunter appreciated his tools, they kept him alive.

And if one could not trust his tools then what was the point of having so much equipment at one's disposal?

Carrying his groceries home, Cyril stopped as he saw a commotion up at Sasha Fullmoon's orphanage. A noble, blonde and blue eyed was kicking at the fallen form of a young man who had his hands up. His colleagues surrounded the boy and a crowd was gathering.

Don't get involved.

Cyril ignored the sound of flesh hitting flesh, cruel laughter and the pained grunts of the victim.

Don't get involved.

The Hunter's fist clenched as he heard the noble make a promise to "burn the orphanage down."

Don't get involved…

I love you Mister Hunter! I love you as much as Mum! And Dad! And Grand dad!

The Hunter stopped when he heard a voice.

"Big Brother!"

The Hunter saw red. He did not speak as he shoved his way through the crowd, he did not speak as he approached the noble who had his boot on the back of a red haired man's head. He did not speak as the noble laughed in his face, the laughter stopped as the cruel Hunter's hand wrapped around his jaw.

Cyril squeezed and the nobleman screamed as his jaw shattered like glass. The noble kept screaming even as one of his friends drew a knife, a good looking blade. Cyril's eyes locked onto him and the world seemed to slow down as the knife wielding man, boy really, charged at him recklessly. The Hunter flung his first victim out of the way and caught the knife wielder's arm and broke it, bending the limb in an angle that it was really not supposed to go.

The boy began to scream then stopped as the Hunter punched him in the throat, sending him down. The other two made attempts to draw swords but Cyril was faster. Way faster. He lashed out with a punch, the third noble took the blow to the head and went down on his knees, Cyril followed that up with a second punch that sent the man flying. He hit the ground a second later, his head bleeding. The fourth managed to get his blade drawn but Cyril lashed out once more, this time his kick broke the would-be attacker's leg.

The crowd drew back in disgust and fear as the boy's leg bent backwards at an angle that was impossible for a human being. The man's screams echoed through the afternoon air. Cyril panted under his bandanna as he realized what he had done. He had gotten involved. All because of a memory that he had long since buried.

"Big Brother Elt!"

The Hunter turned to the red haired man who was on his knees. Beside him were two girls, one a cheerful brunette with her hair in two bunches and the other a younger blonde with a gentle expression rent with worry.

"I-I'm fine, Lisia." the young man said, trying to chuckle. "Just banged up." He looked up at the gray coated stranger that had saved them. Cyril avoided his gaze, merely shoving his way back through the crowd ignoring the utterly broken young men he had left on the streets to suffer. The Hunter grabbed his groceries and headed home in utter silence. He was breathing hard, his blood boiled and he wanted more victims.

He had to calm down. He had to stop thinking. He needed to…He needed to kill. Cyril made every attempt to reign in the desire for violence. The bane of each and every Hunter, the blood lust would always be there lurking in the back of his mind. And if he chose to listen to that voice? This world would become nothing more than a charnel pit. He would become another beast, a scourge upon the sane and the innocent. Cyril swore to himself that he would not succumb to the same fate as those in Yharnam.

That was his greatest fear.

Cyril locked the door and sat down on his chair, staring at the wall. He would not stir from his home for more than a few hours.

The next day...

Captain Merse Dascaros was fuming. Fuming because some idiot nobles, who had volunteered to join her training company just because they were bored, had decided to go make fools of themselves. Worse. They assaulted one of her trainees while he was on his day off, all because they had to prove their superiority...

At Sasha Fullmoon's orphanage no less! What a nightmare!

The one eyed Hero of the Order muttered to herself. The nobles who were responsible got their just desserts...although she was thinking that less and less. Because one of them was said to be in a coma due to a head injury, the lead noble Joachim Brand, was currently in the healer's quarters due to a severely broken jaw and the other two were suffering from broken limbs. Merse did not envy Brand right now because he may never speak again. Or eat solid food but that was their problem. The Brand Family had always been a miserable lot with a streak of cruelty in them, treating the common folk as if they were nothing but dolls.

But it seemed that someone made sure to give them the same treatment, their heir was traumatized. Apparently the man responsible for putting the offenders in such a state was described as a foreigner and was living in the slums. A gray coated stranger with a tattered hat, Elt had seen him and apparently the stranger had made several donations to Sasha Fullmoon's orphanage.

Other than that, there were no records of him. He stayed completely isolated in the slums of Lescatie.

Merse scowled as she marched into the slums looking for her favorite trainee. Elton Dragmire, or Elt as he was more formally known, was a hard working recruit but with ambitions of becoming a knight. Merse did not dissuade the youth from his dream but...Things didn't work like that in Lescatie. Not at all. The clergy and nobility had the cards and if you didn't like the way they dealt then it was tough shit.

It was sickening how twisted this country was. Merse sometimes hated her job. She hated the self serving nobility even more. Keeping a handle on her personal weapon, a halberd, Merse approached the orphanage where Elt stayed and let out a sigh. She knocked on the door.

"Oh!"

When the door opened, it was Elt who had a bandage wrapped around his head. "Captain?"

Merse blinked. "I see that you're already up and about." She stated calmly, then grinned. She never really could keep a straight face. Nonetheless, she was worried about Elt.

"Nothing I can't handle, Captain." Elt said softly. "Sasha helped out the most but she told me to take it easy today…I'm sorry."

Merse wasn't about to overrule one of the most decorated veterans in the Order. She was just responsible for training the recruits in the Order Knights after all, if Sasha Fullmoon says you need rest then you need rest. "Is she in?"

Elt answered by letting his captain inside the orphanage.

/

"I am terribly sorry about what happened." Sasha looked outright exhausted.

"You weren't the one beating the crap out of my pupil, General." Merse joked, though that humor went out of the window as she saw Elt limp past, with those two girls hanging around him to make sure he didn't fall down. "Then again, your neighbor seems to be an upstanding fellow...he would be if he hadn't crippled two young men for life."

Sasha sighed. "He frightened Emiyu and Lisia. But I don't think he meant to, he did help Elt out of that situation after all." She set down her cup of tea. "He's...troubled. I saw that when I finally managed to catch up with him."

"He does live in this area. You'd have to be crazy to try and make a living in the slums...no offense of course." Merse said to Sasha.

Sasha rolled her eyes. Still, she seemed worried. "I've never met someone like that, but I think he has been through a lot. I should...I should probably speak with him over what happened, God knows that he may need it...And the Brand Family will not take this insult lightly."

"They won't." Merse said. "But with all the politicking going on around here...They've got their hands full, still...I should probably speak to him too. See what he's made of."

Sasha's brow furrowed. "You mean to recruit him into the Order Knights?" She asked. Merse shrugged.

"Hey, I mean if he's talented. Sure, Brand's heir wouldn't know which end of a sword to hold onto if it was given to him hilt first but still...Elt says he's not just fast but strong so I should still check it out."

Merse stood up. "Right now." She said with a grin. Sasha just sighed and followed along with the Captain's plan, although something told her that Merse's recruitment strategy was not going to work on the man named Cyril Sutherland.

/

Cyril heard the knocking and blinked irritably. Again, the book he was reading the Monster Girl Encyclopedia was on the floor. The Hunter rubbed his eyes, groaning in irritation but at the same time he felt relieved that his sleep was undisturbed. He sat on his cot, listening to the knocking get more frequent.

Alright then.

He made sure to take his time, pulling on his coat and buttoning it as he looked at his reflection in the broken mirror. He walked over and rearranged his living area before he finally made it to the door. He checked his boots, then took a deep breath and opened the door.

There was a scowling woman there, peeved that he took so long to open the door. She had gray hair that was tied up at the back. Her outfit was sensible, if a bit revealing and she had a rather muscular physique. One eye was covered by a patch and judging from the faint scars he could see, Cyril could tell that the wound was an old one. He just quirked a brow and asked.

"Yes?"

/

Merse glared at him.

"It's rude not to open the door when someone knocks, you know." She told him.

The man hardly reacted to her chiding tone, instead blinking very slowly. His eyes were empty, and he hardly made an expression. This was Sasha's neighbor? He didn't seem to threatening now that she had seen him in the flesh.

"So why should I bother if you're coming up here armed?" The man asked her in return, nudging his head at the halberd in Merse's hands. "Are you a brigand here to steal whatever belongings I have in my home? Are you going to kill me if I resist?"

"Brigand? Hey buddy, I'm a Captain of the Order Knights." Merse said, hackles raised. "So you should probably watch your tone."

The man exhaled through his nose as his eyes narrowed, looking over Merse's shoulder.

"Merse!" Sasha Fullmoon caught up to her erstwhile companion. "Why didn't you tell me you were headed here already-Ah!"

Sasha bowed. "Good afternoon Master Cyril." She said softly seeing the expression of annoyance on Cyril's face. The man exhaled again.

"Good afternoon to you as well, Miss Sasha. Do you know this heavily armed woman that was banging on my door?" He gestured to Merse nonchalantly, as if she was not his concern. Merse frowned at him, why was he more polite with Sasha?

"She's Merse Dascaros, a colleague in the Order." Sasha answered. "She may be...crass but she has a good heart. We both had wished to speak to you."

"I see." Cyril looked back inside and sighed. "Would you both like to come in then?"

The house was sparsely furnished. Merse looked around curiously as she sat down on the small wooden crate Cyril had taken out as an extra chair. He allowed Sasha to have the sole wooden chair that he had while he fixed up some tea. At least it was clean, Merse mused as she looked around. The living area was hardly impressive, for a man with considerable martial experience like Cyril however it was more than enough.

The man had called himself a Hunter when Merse had asked what exactly he did for a living, although Cyril had said that he had wished to retire, he often did odd jobs as a caravan guard during his travels until he ended up staying in Lescatie.

"Ah, so you were a mercenary then." Merse nodded. "It's not a bad life, but it is a harsh one in these times."

Cyril shrugged. "You could say that but it was not my intention to be one." He said to her. His monotone voice made Merse a bit nervous. The way he walked was also different, slouched and yet at the same time it seemed to her that Cyril the Hunter prowled in his home. Furthermore, she sensed...no mana at all coming from the man.

Heroes differed in their ability to sense mana, Sasha was extremely good at it. So good that even their resident Magical Girl, Mimil Miltie, was impressed. Merse glanced at Sasha who gave her a cautious glance. Their new acquaintance was a complete void, he had no mana which was utterly terrifying. How can someone have no mana? It permeated the world according to the sorcerers up at Magitec.

Merse knew Mimil would have been curious to meet this mana-less wonder. But at the same time she dreaded it, she dreaded being in the same room as this cold stranger who had now set the teapot on a larger crate that sat in the middle of them. Merse half expected the man to slam the tea pot into Sasha's face to start a fight but instead Cyril went to grab some silverware and tea cups from a small cupboard.

Merse knew why she was feeling so much dread. There was an undercurrent in the room, some kind of pressure that emanated from Mister Cyril the Hunter, an aura that set off the body's instinct to run for the hills.

"Ah, thank you." Sasha took the tea and the saucer. She sipped appreciatively. "Um...I would like to say thank you for helping Elt...I know-I know it wasn't your intention to scare the two girls with him but..."

Cyril stayed quiet, staring into the fire. He blinked and looked at Sasha. The priestess felt nothing in that gaze before the Hunter answered.

"I...It was not my intention to scare the children either." He said softly. "Forgive me, my...humors were out of balance yesterday I may have been a bit out of sorts."

Sasha frowned. "Do you have trouble sleeping, Master Cyril?" She asked.

"I have nightmares. What of it?" Cyril stated. He then breathed in and out, calming himself down. "I apologize. Yes I do have nightmares."

Sasha merely pushed the thought of his rudeness aside. "Perhaps you should rest from your job as a caravan guard for a little bit. You may be stressed out, Master Cyril and it would do no one good if you collapse from exhaustion."

Cyril blinked at her slowly. Merse felt her fist clench slightly. It was like a predator was watching for the right time to strike.

"I thank you for the advice, Miss Sasha." He said softly. "Perhaps I shall have to find some recreation in the City."

Sasha smiled gently. "That is all I ask, Master Cyril. And if you do need anything, please, do not hesitate to come by the orphanage to talk. My door is always open."

It was nighttime by the time Sasha and Merse left the Hunter to his business.

"Well...that was..." Merse started as Sasha looked back at the house, her face pale.

"That man had no mana, but you sensed it right?" Sasha spoke seriously this time. Her eyes were locked onto the Hunter's humble home.

All signs of brevity left Merse's body as she nodded. "The man was a literal void, yes." She told Sasha. "But he's dangerous. Really dangerous. He makes a high ranking monster look tame, the room was suffocating."

"Indeed." Sasha whispered. "He has not been hostile. I would like to keep an eye on him..."

"Are we going to tell the higher ups?" Merse asked. "I was asked to report anything suspicious and this guy is ringing bells that shouldn't be ringing in my head right now."

"Don't." Sasha said. "That might force him to do something drastic that would end in tears for everyone involved. Perhaps...he could be persuaded to join your training platoon? He is a seasoned warrior after all, maybe he could also learn some new tricks."

Merse shrugged.

Sasha giggled. "I'll try to get him to visit, he did help Elt after all and maybe he could teach him how to fight more effectively."

"Ah...that sounds like an idea." Merse said, smirking. "All right. I'll give it a try."

Later that night...

"Ah, Natsume good to- Natsume?"

Fina flinched in surprise as her friend, suddenly wrapped her arms around her and hugged her tight. "N-Natsume!?" The Kunoichi was sobbing in relief.

The Dhampir looked around. She was but one of the many agents who could operate fully because of her heritage...The raven haired beauty quickly pulled the hysterical Kunoichi into the woods. Shushing the older woman gently, Fina loosened her sword in its sheath as they finally found a private place to talk.

"Natsume, what happened?" Fina asked. "You were supposed to report in a few days ago!"

"I..." Natsume whispered. Fina held both her hands. "I…met someone."

"You...You did?" Fina asked, feeling confused. Sure, it was nice for a monster to meet the man of her dreams but they had a mission to complete for Captain Ursula. The Dhampir held Natsume's shoulders.

"Why...Why are you crying then?"

Natsume was scaring her especially now when the Kunoichi looked her in the eyes, so utterly horrified that she was close to breaking. So close. Fina's own blue orbs were wide with distress. "Natsume, you have to tell me what happened."

"He tried to kill me." Natsume said softly.

"Who? You...You went after an Order boy didn't you?"

"No!" Natsume whispered harshly. "He wasn't...He wasn't with the Order. No. No, he's worse. Far worse..."

"Natsume..." Fina said quietly. "What happened to you?"

"I saw...I saw what was behind his mask. I saw...horrible, horrible things. He was worse." Natsume told her. "He was worse. And he'll kill me if he ever saw me again." She started sobbing again.

Fina didn't know what to do, but one thing was certain. Someone knew that there were agents operating in Lescatie. Their cover would be blown if that certain someone spoke. Fina decided then and there that she had to alert the Captain, everyone was in danger.

"Come on, Natsume." Fina said. "Let's go back to camp."

Chapter 3

Under pain of death

Cyril hammered the last shingle into place then looked down to make sure no one was below him. While he had finished with the orphanage's roof that did not mean that he could afford to be careless, children were extraordinarily fragile after all and the Hunter knew his current employer would be most displeased if he had managed to drop a tool on some poor child's head.

The Hunter finished his task, put away his tools and approached the ladder, sliding down with nary a noise. His boots hit the grass below, startling the young brown haired girl who had been approaching.

"W-Whoa! Th-That was cool Mister Hunter!"

Cyril blinked and then turned around to see the young girl, Lisia if he recalled correctly, staring in unabashed awe at his skilled maneuver of going down a ladder. Cyril shrugged. "I am finished with repairing your roof but it is a temporary patch." He said softly. "You might want to hire a builder in the coming months." Cyril put his hat back on and pulled the cloth bandanna up over his mouth, causing Lisia to shrink back at the sight of him.

The Hunter shrugged again. He had volunteered to affect repairs to Miss Sasha's roof for free, despite the former's protests that he had to accept payment after the job was done but Cyril had firmly denied it. He owed Sasha for frightening the orphans under her care, and this was an easy way to deal with what had happened. Besides, she did say that he had to take it easy for a few days. Repairing a roof may have been a task that didn't seem like taking it easy but Cyril found comfort in such monotonous tasks such as sweeping, repairing a roof...He didn't know why but it calmed him down to be actually doing physical labor.

"You won't be staying?" Lisia asked. "Big Sister wanted to invite you over for dinner..."

Cyril didn't answer for a while. "I see." He said. "Well I guess I can stay for a little while." The smile on Lisia's face made him feel...uncomfortable. He did not like to be around people, children even less, all because of the Night of the Hunt. They reminded him too much of the suffering of that time.

He wanted no memories of that night, but he was resigned to remembering them all. If that was his burden, to bear the memories of dying Yharnam to his grave then so be it. He would remember the good folk that he had tried to rescue and strove to do good in their name, this act would not absolve him of the terrible crimes he had committed that one fateful night and neither would it lift the heavy burdens from his shoulders but he hoped it would be enough to atone.

A small ease to his burdens, that was all he asked for.

/

Sasha Fullmoon observed Master Cyril in his interactions with all the curious children surrounding him as he ate. He answered their constant questions with the calm patience of a man long inured to such things. Dare she say it but she could have sworn she had seen him smile a little when pressed by Lisia and Emiyu, the two of them having soon latched onto Cyril. Perhaps it was because he had helped their Big Brother Elt or maybe the Hunter had a soft spot for children?

She did not know but Cyril seemed to be getting better. He looked less tired, maybe he had taken her advice?

Sasha sighed and shook her head tiredly, a gesture that Cyril seemed to have noticed because his eyes narrowed albeit slightly in her direction. She raised a hand and waved...awkwardly, even as the Hunter's eyes flashed with disapproval. So he noticed too...but what could she do?

Ever since that terrible day, she doubted herself and everything she believed in. Man and Monster were enemies, the Order taught her that but why was it that whenever the crusades succeeded all she saw in the faces of the monsters was grief? She was supposed to make everyone smile and yet every victorious mission she led in the name of the Chief God always showed her nothing but grief.

Doubt made her want to atone. Atonement, her goal, made her raise not just one orphanage but two...one with human children who lost their parents in the Order's relentless march to save humankind and one with monster children, those who also lost their parents in the same war. It was taking a toll on her but she could not reveal anything to Elt or any of her colleagues under pain of death.

She again glanced at Cyril. Would he sell her out? He didn't seem fond of the Order, from the way he avoided anything that involved joining the knights. Merse had been persistent but even she had doubts as to how to best secure the Hunter's loyalty. The man was a mercenary through and through.

"Cyril...If you could mind coming with me? I...I have something to discuss with you."

The words were out of her mouth before she could reign them in.

Cyril blinked, but he nodded politely in her direction.

The Hunter followed the Priestess silently as they walked down a path through the woods. Cyril didn't expect an attack but he still kept an eye out for anything untoward. Sasha may have been a veteran hero but he had seen how pale and drawn she was, she was also stumbling slightly. More than once, Cyril had to steer her straight lest she blunder into a tree, such was her fatigue that it was making him feel concerned.

Cyril looked around however. It was a clear, moonlit night, but the silence was what made him cautious. He felt the familiar weight of his Saw Cleaver on his back in open hostility. His holster was unbuckled and his pistol was ready to draw at a moment's notice. Like Sasha, he too had a small hand lantern to light their way.

"I am sorry for my silence, Master Cyril but this is a secret I am hesitant to trust to others." Sasha said.

"Even to your friend, Elt was it?" Cyril asked in return. The silence told him everything. He felt like he was stepping into something serious, something that he would regret knowing. Cyril was no craven, he'd make his decision when they got to the end of this path...wherever it may lead.

"Even to him. I have not known you long, Master Cyril but I have a feeling that I can trust you to keep your silence in this matter." Sasha spoke after a long pause, sounding really tired. The Hunter's eyes narrowed. He secretly drew his pistol. Something in the Priestess's tone made him even more cautious than before.

The path led to a small building, this one was more of a cottage more than anything. Cyril didn't see anything out of the ordinary, but he knew that being complacent was more lethal than a blade or gun. The Hunter let Sasha open the door. He stopped in the doorway.

"Um...Big Sister?"

Cyril was looking right into the bright blue eyes of a child with fox ears. The Hunter blinked and shook his head. He then turned his gaze to meet Sasha, who looked away guilty. He honestly was very surprised, Sasha had always been loyal to the Order and yet here she was raising the orphans of the very crusades she led against the monsters. The Hunter closed his eyes and straightened his posture, his gaze was then very cold.

"What is this." He said to the priestess. "What is going on, Sasha?"

"This is my secret sin." Sasha told him softly.

"Big sister?" The fox child asked, and Sasha hushed her and pushed her back suddenly as Cyril raised his pistol...and promptly holstered it. His gaze was still locked onto the rather surprised Sasha.

"You can start by explaining what you plan to do with these children." He told her. "And what this plan has to do with me. And for your sake, this better be good."

/

The inside of the cottage was far more roomier since the monster children were less in number than the humans. Cyril hung his own hand lantern on an alcove and Sasha lit more candles. The fox child was but one of many monster children. Cyril saw a Salamander, this one older than the other kids and carrying a wooden sword. Odd, considering the trails of fire that often sprung to life in her claws and her tail. There was another girl with the horns of a sheep struggling to keep awake. The poor girl nearly tumbled onto her twin, which startled them both briefly before they suddenly began to drowse. Again. Both were Weresheep if Cyril remembered from the guide correctly. Another girl had squeaked when his gaze met hers. She fluttered briefly away with her wings, into the shadows but there was a loud thunk and a squeak of pain.

A Harpy. This one must be trouble to keep track of.

The Hunter crossed his arms, feeling the gaze of the Salamander on his form.

"I...don't plan on hurting any of them." Sasha said quietly but firmly. "My actions may not have directly caused the deaths of these little ones' parents but it is my atonement to take care of them."

"Hence why you look ready to keel over." Cyril pointed out. Sasha was swaying on her feet. The Hunter gestured for the Salamander's help, the young girl quickly grabbing a chair for Sasha to sit down in. Cyril helped the priestess sit down before she fell. "And why you cannot ask for help, the Order would sooner kill these children than let them live."

He sighed. "Why did you involve me in this?" He asked her. This was clearly not something he wanted to know but he made the decision to get involved. Cyril cursed himself. Sasha had asked for his help, he was well within his right to refuse but this secret would be known to more people now.

"You can walk away if you wish." Sasha said. "But I implore you, Master Cyril. Keep this secret, I do not want more innocent blood on my hands."

"Blood will stain your hands no matter what you do." Cyril answered, harsher than what he intended. He was frustrated with the situation as it is. Sasha flinched at his words. "These children will be found out, and they will die by Order blades. And because you informed me of their existence my fate will be tied to yours in return."

"I still trust you to do the right thing, Master Cyril." Sasha told him. "I know that you are still a good man. Even if you do not show it."

"So you say." Cyril answered. "But this is still something I should not have been involved in." His tone was razor sharp, laced with a growing impatience that Sasha noticed with growing alarm. The Salamander child swallowed the lump in her throat.

Sasha Fullmoon realized with no degree of uncertainty that Cyril Sutherland was more than capable of ending not only her life but those of the children in this very cottage. His shadow seemed to darken the room they were all in, such was its darkness that the moon itself refused to give its light.

And then, Cyril exhaled and regarded Sasha with tired eyes. "You will owe me for this." He stated quietly and left without another word.

Sasha let out the breath she had been holding and squeezed the Salamander child tightly. She would not be sleeping for quite a while it seemed.

A few days later…

The merchant caravan he was escorting through the grasslands was moving at a clipped pace but Cyril wasn't paying attention to that. The Hunter sat beside the lead wagon driver, pistol in hand. The older man beside him didn't bother to ask any questions because the look on Cyril's face was outright murderous.

Cyril kept an eye out, his temper barely kept in check. That night was a mistake he should not have made, and Sasha should have known better than to involve him in whatever scheme she was up to. He should have left her to whatever fate was in store for her. Instead, he now had to carry a damning secret that could jeopardize not only her life but his as well, and even if the Order had no realistic way of putting him down he would still have to avoid them at all cost.

If that was going to happen then he might as well leave this continent. Zipangu was starting to look like an ideal option...even if there were also monsters there, at least a lot of them were reasonable.

The Hunter checked his handgun again. The grasslands around Lescatie were remotely secure, and often times the only monster encounters were the roving bands of Centaurs, reasonable monsters that were half women half horse, and even then they were rare in Lescatie.

The Hunter blinked as the wagon stopped. Someone shouted that the rear wagon was having trouble with one of its wheels. Cyril was annoyed even more, wonderful now they were stuck here for a few more hours. Even if Lescatie was safer than most kingdoms, nobody wanted to be away from the city walls at night. It was a sentiment that Cyril agreed with and not because of the roving mamono. The Hunter got off the wagon to walk around, bringing up his Saw Cleaver in his right hand. Cyril began to walk around while the wagon driver and the merchant checked up on their goods, an assortment that Cyril did not care to find out about.

There was a nagging feeling in the back of his head that something else was wrong. Cyril looked back at the caravan to observe the guards. Men and women were in attendance and this band numbered around ten. He looked at the black haired young woman with the sword and buckler. She wore a white tunic and brown leggings underneath a leather chest plate, looking more like a traveler than a warrior. He never met her personally and had never seen her before in the Adventurer's Guild but something about her was making him feel uneasy. She was apparently a newbie though, that was certain.

As if noticing his glance, the girl waved at him awkwardly. Cyril's eyes narrowed and he continued on his patrol looking for signs of trouble. He had more important issues to worry about. The Hunter moved back into his routine.

/

Demon Army, 4th Company Campsite, Lescatie...

"Doctor."

"Captain."

Ursula looked her healer right in the eye. The vampire, Seras Mariana Brusilov, had lived on this earth for more than four hundred years. Two of those centuries were spent under the tutelage of Doctor Greilia Little, Mistress of the Greilia Sabbath of Pharmacomancy. The other two were spent under the tutelage of Ursula's great aunt, Duchess Aria Gremory, swordmaster captain of the Red Guard who were responsible for guarding her mother's life. In a sense, Seras was capable of healing someone who was supposed to be dead...and more often than not was seen in the presence of several dead bodies in the defense of patients under her care. She had a deep seated hatred for the Order's Inquisition who were fanatics to the extreme.

Dressed in the white coat and robes of a healer, Seras was a slim vampire with a no nonsense attitude and less patience for those who got in the way of her healing. Hence why few were willing to risk her wrath, lest they wake up in a cot themselves. Blonde, blue eyed with a beautiful heart shaped face and an equally scary scowl, Seras was no softy.

"What brings you here, Captain?" Seras asked Ursula, her voice quiet. "As you can see I just finished doing inventory and taking care of one of our agents. The Fourth Princess was also waiting for your report."

"I wanted to see how Miss Murasaki is doing." Ursula stated calmly. "If that is appropriate, Doctor?"

Seras exhaled through her nose. "I do not want you troubling her any further. You have ten minutes." She brusquely turned away from the Demon, who smiled. Seras was always brusque when it involved her patients...which was why she was such an effective healer.

Ursula followed Seras to the sole occupied cot. The healer's tent was empty for now, but that would change when the invasion of Lescatie began. Already, monsters from the wilder areas of the kingdom were encroaching on Lescatie waylaying the garrisons located throughout the kingdom.

Druella's army was headed straight for the city itself. The 4th Company was responsible for scouting out the city's defenses. The 1st, 2nd and 3rd were on the move with the Fourth Born and her retinue. Ursula was not apprehensive, normally for what Demon ever was? But as she approached the forlorn Kunoichi who lay in her cot her smile curdled.

Seras approached the cot carefully. "Natsume?" She whispered. "My dear, are you awake? Captain Ursula wants to talk to you."

Natsume the Kunoichi blinked and looked around blearily. "I...I had another nightmare." She told Seras.

"I know." Seras gently patted Natsume's head. "I'm sorry for what you had to go through, child. It's a good thing that Fina was here to look after you."

Ursula winced as she heard the recrimination in Seras' tone. Sending Fina out to replace Natsume did not sit well with the vampire at all. True, a Vampire would normally be inferior to a Demon such as she but Seras was one of the best swordsmen in the company. She shook her head and put a more gentle expression on her face as Seras allowed Ursula to step towards her. Ursula sat down on the cot, putting a hand on Natsume's thigh, a touching gesture from such a fierce warrior such as she.

"Hello, Natsume-san." She said softly. "You know why I came here to talk to you."

"...That man will kill me." Natsume whispered. "If I tell you anything, he'll kill me. He'll know because you'll send people after him." She started to shake.

"If this man is dangerous, then he must be neutralized Natsume-san." Ursula said to her. "I won't let anything happen to you. Or Fina. On my honor as the Captain of this company, you will be protected if he retaliates."

Natsume didn't say a word at all. Ursula frowned and looked at Seras who crossed her arms and stared right back at her sternly.

"You'll know him, if you see him. He has no mana and yet..." Natsume said blandly. "He's...terrifying. I just wish..." She shook harder. "Oh gods...Fina...Fina, I'm sorry. I should have been the one. Please be careful Fina, he'll find out who you are...He'll kill you too."

She sobbed into her hands inconsolably.

Seras put a hand on a surprised Ursula's shoulder. "Okay, your ten minutes is up." She snapped then turned to a Kikimora that had just entered the tent. "Bennia, get your ass in here with a damned sedative!"

Shaken, more than what she wanted to admit, Ursula left the healer's tent.

/

"And you are certain that this man is a danger to our operations? Forgive me madame, but he is just one human male. Perhaps the Kunoichi is shaken by something else?"

Demeter's tone brokered no argument, but she was skeptical about what Ursula had told her. The Dullahan walked with Ursula as they made their rounds.

"I have considered that point but Natsume speaks the truth." Ursula told her subordinate. "I was there in the tent with her and that Kunoichi is horrified. That plus there was indeed something different about this human male." She regarded the Dullahan with seriousness. "The man has no mana. At all."

"You mean to say that he is dead?" Demeter asked, looking incredulous. "The only way someone could have no mana is if they were dead, my Captain." The Dullahan frowned. "Still, if this one is as dangerous as you say then perhaps we should approach with caution."

"He is not working for the Order however." Ursula mused. "Still...to track down a Kunoichi and best her in combat is not something any ordinary warrior can do. Even a Hero would be hard pressed to do so."

"A Hero with no affiliation with a god?" Demeter was surprised. "Or is he someone who has broken the limit of his physical form?"

"Both are possible." Ursula said suddenly smiling. "Which makes me excited. What if he is worthy prey?"

"Then I wish you all the best, milady." Demeter said, knowing full well of the Demon's wants and needs. She was prideful, that much was certain. Demeter just hoped that Ursula, the woman she had chosen to follow, would not allow that pride to be her downfall in the coming invasion.

Cyril panted. It had started raining and worse, there was a pack of monsters that had managed to ambush them in the night. He threw the cowering merchant aside as he blocked a claw strike from one of them. The Werewolf snarled before being silenced as Cyril's Saw Cleaver crunched through bone and brain. The Hunter bashed the corpse aside with his off hand as cries of alarm echoed throughout the merchant camp.

What a disaster. At least one of the guards was a competent mage and had sent out a magic flare that lit up the area. Cyril heard the shriek before he saw the charging orc come in. The Hunter kicked the thing in the stomach and cut it down all the same. The Hunter stayed silent as he swung his weapon to the side, extending it into a long bladed cleaver. He stood his ground as more monsters came at him.

Cyril beheaded another werewolf even as the monsters pressed into the group of guards. Already Cyril had seen a pair of men get dragged away by victorious monster girls. Cyril didn't even bother trying to shoot at them, it would have been a mercy but he had his orders. The Hunter struck down another monster, blood staining his blade.

Another orc tried to scream before her head was chopped off. A werewolf held her stomach, howling and screaming in pain before Cyril's pistol ended her life with a loud roar. No, not a roar it was more of a bark. The roar was coming from the Hunter's throat, an incoherent stream of rage.

Another beast had clawed onto Cyril's back and the Hunter shrugged her off and beat her to death with the butt of his pistol. He swung his Saw Cleaver back, beheading another monster in a spray of blood and water. He killed. And killed. And killed.

He didn't stop until the space around him was clear and he was surrounded by slain beasts, all in a state of dismemberment. Such was the slaughter that the merchant he had been defending had passed out from the utter bloodshed the Hunter had visited upon his foes. The surviving men and women of the caravan guards were murmuring, some were in awe yet more were cautious and even afraid of the fell handed Hunter that slaughtered fifty monsters in a matter of moments.

Cyril exhaled as he looked around, his eyes dilated. He was still looking for targets, for prey to kill. He wasn't in Lescatie anymore, everything and everyone he saw had blended into the nightmarish tableau that was Yharnam during the Night of the Hunt. And the mamono he had cut down had taken the shape of the nightmarish beasts that he had slain-

"Hey!"

The Hunter had to stop himself from swinging his weapon as he spun around to see the leader of the caravan guards, a tall man with an axe in hand. He grinned at Cyril who did not return the gesture. He just...stared.

"Nice job out there, friend. We probably wouldn't have made it if it weren't for you."

Cyril said nothing. He swung his weapon down to fold it back into the compact saw form and stood there, eyes blank. It was still raining. He panted heavily as the guard captain watched him closely, he reached out. "Hey are you-"

"Do not touch me." Cyril growled. His voice was hoarse. The captain gulped and stepped back at the Hunter's stern gaze from beneath his tattered tricorne hat. The caravan, what was left of it, eventually gathered up whatever and whoever could be salvaged and headed to Lescatie as quick as possible.

Cyril didn't linger too long. The moment they were allowed into the city, the Hunter disappeared from the adventurer's guild and headed home as quickly as possible to avoid pointed questions. It was still raining by the time he got home.

Closing his door, Cyril tossed his Saw Cleaver into the corner. Blood flickered out and stained the floor. The Hunter removed his hat with trembling hands as he sat down on his chair. It was still dark so he lit his hand lantern and set it on his table. The dim light chased away some of the shadows but it was still dark inside.

He...He was going to have to fix that. Slowly Cyril stood up, still soaking from the rain. The Hunter made several attempts but it was worth it in the end because he now had a fire going. He dressed into his extra clothes; the tattered vest, shirt and trousers were clean at least. Cyril kept his hood off and instead sat down in front of the fire while getting some tea started. Calm, he needed calm. That was the worst fight he had ever been in. He had never lost control like that and it shamed him to even think back about that fight.

He had become a beast. Even briefly, the surge of frightening strength...it scared him to go back to that. The Hunter shook his head as he tried to calm down, listening to the sound of rain coming down in sheets. It was going to be a cold, cold night and if he couldn't sleep-

The crack of thunder startled him, causing him to reach for a weapon. He sighed and grabbed his lantern, going to retrieve his Saw Cleaver to c lean it off and give it a good sharpening. He sat down in front of the fire again and unfolded his Saw Cleaver. He reached for his whetstone. The sound of steel being sharpened echoed throughout his humble home.

The next day...

Fina moved through the brush, hood up. While Dhampir had superior physical abilities compared to normal humans, she did not let herself become too overconfident. Especially now, ever since she witnessed their person of interest in a fight.

The Dhampir was shaken but she kept her cool. She had never seen someone move so fast. The 'Hunter' as he had called himself back when she had first caught sight of him in the Adventurer's Guild was a mystery man of great interest to Captain Ursula.

She was right, the man had no mana but that apparently didn't matter. Because he was more than capable of killing monsters with ease. Heroes were dangerous to the average monster but the way this man slaughtered his way through the monster packs…

Fina shuddered as she looked back at the foreboding walls of Lescatie, as if focusing her thoughts on the Hunter would summon him...and surely that would be the end of her life because he was inimical to Mamono. Fina had her own reasons for reporting back to camp so soon as well. She wanted to check on Natsume, because Seras had told her that she was getting worse. She had been having more recurring nightmares, thus making it hard for her to sleep during the night. She also kept asking for offerings because she said that she was going to die soon.

Fina bit back a sob as she wiped her eyes. It wasn't fair. Natsume didn't deserve whatever insanity had befallen her.

The Dhampir eventually made it to the point where her magic stone would not be detected by any magic leaning heroes. Fina took it out of her cloak and held it up. A dark shadow engulfed her and soon, she had disappeared from the forests surrounding Lescatie.

In a few seconds she would reappear in the 4th Company campsite.

/

Fina stepped out of the portal and looked around. The guards stationed around the camp readied their weapons but paused as she waved at them and removed her hood. The sergeant in charge of patrols gave her a smile and let her in. Fina returned the gesture and walked into camp, which was busy. She saw soldiers getting geared for a fight, a rarity in the Demon Lord's armies since discipline was usually lax but Captain Ursula had trained her soldiers to be the best they could. Sure they all wanted a man for themselves but Ursula made it clear that they had to work first before the fun began. Perhaps that was why her soldiers were quite lustful when the battle was over.

Fina...just wanted to come back alive. The Dhampir made her way to the healer's tent to report to Seras, her tutor and foster mother.

She found Seras sitting down, checking on a catatonic Natsume who was holding a piece of paper in her hand, paper that Seras had plucked out. The vampire turned to see Fina just watching with wide, worried eyes.

"I had to sedate her." Seras said simply as Fina approached. "I'm so sorry, my dear. I'm going to have to send her back with her comrades when I get the chance."

Fina just sat down on Natsume's cot, placing a cool hand on Natsume's cheek. It wasn't fair for Natsume, who had just graduated to becoming a full fledged Shinobi, one hoping to find a man to call her own. Fina wanted to know what exactly she had seen. Seras straightened out the piece of paper she had managed to get from Natsume. She walked away a bit as she placed the piece of paper on a table.

She had given Natsume something to do, just some sketching since she mentioned that she had like drawing back when she was a girl. Seras blinked as she examined the sketch. It was that of a man, shrouded in a gray coat. He faced backwards, the tails of his coat billowing in a breeze. Natsume had even drawn the moon above his head. It wasn't a romantic picture at all. Seras found it downright disturbing because the man had weapons in each hand, the one in the right in particular looked like a madman's cross between a saw and a cleaver.

The symbol drawn over the moon was concerning. It...was a dangling rune, like a fork. It made her head hurt to look at it. It...looked like it was squirming. Seras blinked and the rune in the picture stilled. The Vampire swore under her breath.

"Fina, keep an eye on Natsume will you?" Seras said.

"Yes ma'am." Fina answered.

The vampire exited the tent and went to find a messenger. She was going to have to ask for a Sabbath's help.

She wondered if the White Goat or the Sleepy Magical Archive had any ideas on who this man was. Seras shivered as a chill went up her spine, and decided to start thinking about the questions she was going to ask the two.

Somehow, she knew this was going to be a bad idea.