Claude's thoughts swirled in chaotic circles, but one glaring problem cut through them like a sharp blade.
If the world he had known for so many years was about to be overrun by manic, bloodthirsty beasts...
What was he supposed to do?
Help them?
Claude had no illusions about his strength. Over the years, his growth in mental energy had made him powerful, but against an invasion of red beasts, he was a drop in the ocean.
He had seen the hordes of Bloodborne once before, and the sheer number was hard to comprehend. An invasion would mean countless more.
There was no stopping it—not by himself. But if he couldn't directly fight off the invasion, perhaps he could prevent it from happening in the first place.
'If I can't stop this plan from happening… I don't think I'll ever be able to return,' he sighed.
He cared deeply for the people he had come to know, for those lives entangled in this violent struggle. But as much as he wanted to protect them, there was something else. He had to return home. He had to avenge Raymond. He couldn't simply throw away his life here.
"Enough is enough," Claude muttered, shaking his head as if to dispel the swirling confusion. He straightened his back, his thin frame casting a long shadow on the stone floor. Slowly, cautiously, he ascended the stairs, his gaze flitting to the hallway ahead.
It stretched before him like something out of a fever dream, its length impossible to gauge. Deep azure carpets covered the floor, so dark they might as well have been black. Odd, unsettling paintings lined the cold stone walls, their twisted forms barely recognizable in the dim light.
The silhouettes of the Bloodborne he had been following had faded into the distance, leaving him alone in this suffocating expanse.
As he took in the view of his surroundings, his thoughts unconsciously wandered to stories of old, tales of monstrous labyrinths filled with unspeakable horrors.
His lips curled into a nervous smirk. 'A big, scary half-human monster waiting around the corner? Oh, how'd I wish that'd be the case...'
But the smirk faded quickly as he realised he would be blessed if the only thing he had to confront was a single monster in this foreign realm.
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A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
His footsteps echoed in the oppressive silence, the sound almost mocking him. It was the only thing breaking the suffocating quiet, and yet it made him feel more isolated than ever.
The hallway stretched endlessly ahead. Each step felt like it brought him no closer to any destination.
'Is this ever going to end?' he wondered, his pulse quickening. 'Where am I even going?'
He didn't feel in control anymore. His mind kept telling him to turn back, to find another way, but he didn't feel like wasting all his previous progress in walking.
And then it came.
A scream.
The sound was so abrupt, so piercing, that Claude nearly stumbled. His body tensed as adrenaline flooded his veins, every muscle poised to bolt in the opposite direction.
The scream was raw, a twisted symphony of fear, pain, and something else he couldn't quite place.
He froze, his breath caught in his throat. The scream echoed again, louder this time. It was coming from somewhere ahead—a room, perhaps, just beyond his line of sight.
He moved forward, his body practically on autopilot. Each step felt heavier than the last as the nauseating stench of blood filled his nostrils. The scent was thick and oppressive, mingling with the stale air of the hallway. His stomach churned, but he pushed forward.
Finally, after what had felt like hours passed by, Claude reached the source of the scream. He stood before a door, its massive wooden frame old and splintered. The screams had stopped now, replaced by a chilling silence that made the hairs on his arms stand on end.
Swallowing his hesitation, he stepped closer, peeking through the narrow crack in the door.
The room beyond was enormous, far larger than any room should be. It wasn't a room at all but a cavernous expanse, the size of a crop field, its stone floor slick and dark with old blood. At the centre of the room sat a bubbling pool of crimson liquid, writhing as though it possessed some life of its own.
Countless Bloodborne surrounded the pool, their grotesque forms standing guard. But it wasn't just the Bloodborne that filled the room—there were humans too. Ordinary people lined up in a queue that stretched back into the shadows.
'Humans… What are they doing here?' Claude's mind raced. He had thought he was deep in enemy territory, but the presence of people suggested otherwise. Perhaps he hadn't been taken to another world after all. Perhaps this was just a remote part of his own.
The tension in the room was palpable. A man at the front of the queue, dressed in the coarse leather garb of a peasant, stepped forward reluctantly. His face was pale, and his body trembled with each step. His legs seemed barely able to support his weight, each movement coming with a shuddering breath.
One of the Bloodborne, standing tall and menacing, gave the man a sharp shove. "Insect. Go. Pool."
The man stumbled, almost falling before he caught himself. His face twisted in a mix of horror and despair as he was forced closer to the bubbling pool. His movements were agonizingly slow, as though each step was a monumental effort.
"No!" he cried, his voice breaking with desperation. "You promised us power if we served you! This isn't what we were promised! Please, no!" His pleas fell on deaf ears as the Bloodborne's patience wore thin. With a sudden, forceful push, the man was hurled into the pool.
The screams that followed were haunting, the same inhuman wails that Claude had heard from the hallway. The man's body convulsed, his voice breaking apart into tortured gasps before fading altogether.
Soon, the pool of blood stilled, its surface eerily calm.
Just as Claude turned to leave, a hand broke through the surface of the blood. It was a deep, unnatural crimson—almost as if it were forged from the blood itself.
And then, slowly, it began to rise.
Claude's heart pounded as he stared at the emerging figure, his body frozen in place.