A mysterious host

Francis was huffing and puffing. That fight gave him an adrenaline rush he hadn't felt since he killed that poor lady in the upper Cathedral Ward. He wiped his bloody hands and the Chikage on his foe's hoodie and as he looked up, he saw at least twenty women surrounding him. The commotion from the fight had attracted unwelcomed visitors.

They all came at him at once. Some were holding sickles, while others had sledgehammers on their hands. His speed and skill outmatched theirs, but their number was going to be a problem. He quickly tore a piece of cloth from the executioner's hood and tied it around his face to hide his nose. He went inside the hut he had broken into and waited for them. He wanted to thin the number of enemies that came at him. After two strikes, two women fell on top of each other and blocked the entrance in front of him. The others had to step on the corpses in order to reach him. Dealing with them had become easier but his breathing started to shorten. Although he managed to mask the corpses' smell, he was still breathing unclean air. He had to finish that fight quickly. He heard a crack in front of the hut and soon after, fire engulfed the corpses that lay in front of him. Some of the women had cocktail Molotov and were throwing them his way. That was a smart way to flush him out of his hiding spot.

Francis jumped out of the hut as fast as he could. With the lying corpses inside, he couldn't risk fire catching up to him. As soon as he was out, four women jumped at him, trying to finish him off. He tackled one with his shoulder and slashed three in one swoop using his sharp Chikage. Their number was intimidating but not to the current version of Francis. He realized that a mere mob wasn't enough to finish him off. He noticed three women on top of some huts, filling their Molotov and preparing to throw them his way while at least five were rushing towards him. They were relentless but sloppy. Francis jumped quickly on top of one of the old houses and found himself facing one of the women who had just finished filling two bottles. He killed her swiftly and jumped towards the other two; finishing each one of them in one hit. At that moment, the remaining women from the mob, about twelve, had gathered in the small clearing between the houses. Francis took all the explosives he could get his hands on and threw them on the women below. He stood on top of the houses, watching all of his foes screaming as they caught fire, and as their lives faded away painfully.

Francis took off the piece of cloth that bound his face and took a deep breath. That was a close one. Although he managed to contain the situation intelligently he made a mental note not to rush enemies too fast the next time. He jumped down from the top of the hut and continued on his way towards the big building he had seen before. As he reached it, he noticed that it was built out of bricks, not wood unlike the other huts in the village. That must have been the most important building in town although he still didn't have the opportunity to explore the whole area. It was a three story building. It was as large as five village huts aligned one next to the other. The front door was shut tight and Francis, despite his efforts and enhanced strength, couldn't force it open. He started looking for another way out and noticed an open balcony on the first floor. He used his strong grip to hold onto some holes in the outer wall of the building and reached the balcony in no time. The extra strength and agility he had gained from blood ministration helped him overcome too many difficulties. He had become even stronger than Karla, who he admired. And he understood Paul's attitude when he discovered the healing properties of the blood. However, he understood that there were still other enemies far stronger than him and he wanted to find ways to become more skilled and powerful.

The room he found himself in was clean and organized, as if someone took the time to take care of it and cleaned it daily. There was a small fireplace in the middle of the room, two large bookcases aligned at the walls and a small bed, tidy and untouched. 'Someone must be still living here. I should be on guard.' He moved about and inspected some of the books on the shelves. Most of them contained information about the history of Yharnam and the healing church. He could stay in that place for days and wouldn't even feel the time go by. But first he had to explore the rest of the building and make sure that it was safe to let his guard down. As he finished his thought, he heard the door of the room open. A man walked in, clothed in a gray suit, brown polished shoes and wearing a black tie. He looked like an educated gentleman, save for the cane he was holding which concealed a weapon. He had black hair and a thin beard. The man looked like he took care of himself and kept to his hygiene seriously.

- "You must be a hunter" said the mysterious gentleman.

- "Yes I am, and judging from your cane, you must be one of them too." Replied Francis, he had seen that weapon before at the training room back in upper Cathedral Ward.

- "Yes, not sustained by the dream I'm afraid" the man had put his cane down and settled himself on a couch opposite the fireplace. "So how can I be of service? I'm just a retired hunter, waiting to die peacefully."

- "I'm looking for knowledge, regarding Yharnam and its secrets, and regarding this town here." Francis was ready to fight the man if he showed any sign of animosity.

- "You are in Hemwick. This village has its own share of secrets I'm not willing to talk about. But if you'd like, you can use the books here and explore the village as much as you'd like. This place here is safe, far from the reach of beasts. You can use it as much as you'd like. There's a room next door, please make yourself comfortable there."

The man didn't seem to be the talkative type but Francis assessed that he was of no immediate danger to him. He thanked the man and went to the room he pointed out to him. It was a simple place. A big comfortable bed occupied most of the space. A desk was arranged next to the door with an oil lamp on top of it. That could be of great use for Francis whenever he decided to read for an extended period of time. After all, he had no need for sleep or food, all he required was a bit of blood once in a while in order to rejuvenate his senses. He took a book he borrowed from the library and started reading: "The healing church or how mankind stepped forward in their evolutionary cycle."