The hunt had been going on for too long and Gehrman knew that. Even as he kept an eye over the Hunter's Dream--as it unceremoniously took random hunters across the eras to participate in its endless nightmare--and trained innumerable hunters, the old blinded man in the wheelchair did not expect a strange visitor to appear.

This strange visitor--from what Gehrman could tell--held a presence not too dissimilar to the Old Ones who had plagued Yharnam with their "miracle" blood, but the old Hunter was no fool. He knew this visitor was far more than the beasts who craved blood and older than even the Old One which created this paradoxical dream in which he now resided, yet the very presence of this visitor was by no means bloodthirsty.

"You know more than you see, Gehrman," the visitor spoke in a tongue that could be understood by all. "As expected of the first Hunter."

"Who are you?" Gehrman asked--his voice old and raspy as if his lungs were rotting faster than normal yet not to a lethal point.

"A question for another time, First Hunter of Blood," was his only response to his question. "For now, I shall send one to you. He shall be the last Hunter to be deigned by this Workshop and shall--by his own choices--either free Yharnam from its neverending nightmare or let it persist. You shall be his guide."

That intrigued the old Hunter. "What is the payment for such services?"

"You shall be freed from this place as you so desire," the visitor responded casually as if freeing Gehrman from the dream is nothing more than a mere child's play to them. "There are many more worlds out there--far from the reach of your 'Old Ones'--that he shall venture through. All of these worlds have their own problems to solve and legends to tell, but those who lurk in the shadows beyond the reach of the light shall soon learn of his existence. He will need guides and mentors who are not adverse to taking a more destructive path."

Gehrman did not fully understand what this visitor meant with his words, but the mere mention of freedom from the Dream caught his attention. It was no secret that he longed for freedom and rest from this place which bound him to watch over the new Hunters who fall prey to its trap, but for such a simple price to pay, he was very willing to pay the price.

Not even the Old Ones who plagued Yharnam with their madness could have foreseen the changes in Yharnam's future with this choice. The only real noticeable change in the present was how much hope had been restored in the old Hunter.

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A hope that dared to spark a fire of rebellion and freedom against the very creatures he had been made to hunt.

===+===

In another time...

It never helped that he was forced to make decisions that could heavily impact the future as he knew it. Even while attending Hogwarts or trying to keep well out of major story implications within the Galaxy that could alter the course of the Skywalker Saga, Erebus understood that he didn't have much choice if he still wanted to offer help while preserving canon history.

Sometimes he even wished he could just die and stay dead.

Yet even when faced against tuk'atas on the hunt on Korriban or replacing Solomon Sallow and taking on the Killing Curse in his place, there was something raging deep beneath his very bones. A seething coldness that would put even Vitiate and Palpatine to shame.

Broken.

His very being felt discordant--disharmonized--like it is far too painful to stay alive and dead. Even his own mind felt so painful like something kept upping the pain and dizziness--wanting to sleep--but couldn't even pass out just to make him suffer.

Hollow.

There was also something so very fucking wrong with him that it almost impossible to tell. Something he once had in abundance that he did not have now, but even the knowledge of something missing was making Erebus insane.

Madness.

When he first died and then spawned in the world of Dromund Kaas, he felt so mad and--in his insanity--unleashed something terrible unto Imperial forces. His own mind that suffered from everything and an untimely death teetered on the verge of total collapse.

That was when the whispers started. Their vile words that poked and prodded at him like he was nothing more than a wounded animal on its last legs, but yet--even in this dark despair--nothing could have compared to when he floated within the Void.

Even still remembering how he nearly unraveled inside of it before being put back together sent a cold shiver down his spine to this day.

After that, he had met Alex Fross and the rest of his friends from Hogwarts. Learned most of what he needed to learn nearly a century before canon began and still prepared traps for Voldemort to aid the golden trio.

He had even managed to learn about Isadora Morganach's plot with using Ancient Magic alongside Fig and Alex, but what really made Erebus sure of his return was when Professor Rookwood had asked him if he was an Outworlder--a term that shouldn't exist in the Wizarding World. Even now--aboard the Vengeful Wraith with Kreia, Arch, and two Dark Council members--heading towards one of the most dangerous universes he knew, Erebus could sense that events past this point were not ever going to be the same again.

==+==

》A city soaked in blood and madness shall grant the Outworlder new life. In the most troubled times when all hope seems lost, it shall be the start of a brand new game.《

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