“I don’t know how that Hunter is doing. I have to help him, quickly!”
Without stopping to wipe the sticky blood from his face, Charles hurried toward the wounded Hunter’s last known position.
The sight along the way was appalling.
The bodies of creatures undergoing Beast Transformation lay scattered from the edge of the channel all the way down to its bed, their numbers staggering.
That the Hunter had managed to kill so many enemies while gravely wounded spoke to astonishing strength and endurance.
Unfortunately, his strength had finally failed him.
When Charles found him, his shattered body had been brutally pinned to the damp, cold brick wall by several crude metal javelins.
Dozens of enormous Giant Rats with glowing red eyes had gathered around him, greedily gnawing at his still-warm flesh.
“Get away from him, you filthy creatures!”
Charles roared and triggered the mechanism in his Threaded Cane.
The serrated whip sprang forth like an enraged venomous serpent, carving a lethal arc through the air.
It tore through the clustered rats in an instant, scattering blood and flesh and clearing the area around the Hunter.
“Hold on. I’ll treat you right away.”
He carefully freed the Hunter, whose breathing was barely perceptible, from the wall and laid him on a relatively dry patch of ground.
Then he frantically searched his pack for a Blood Vial.
The Hunter was astonishingly young.
His face suggested that he had only recently reached adulthood, yet none of the vitality expected of someone his age remained.
All Charles saw were the deep marks left by long exposure to bloodshed, exhaustion, and the shadow of death.
“Don’t… waste… a precious Blood Vial…”
The boy weakly pushed away the vial Charles offered with a trembling hand covered in blood.
His pupils had already begun to lose focus.
“My… organs are shattered… I’m… beyond saving…”
“Don’t say that. Hold on!”
Charles still tried to press the needle into his vein.
“Thank you… kind sir…”
The boy forced out a smile so faint it was almost imperceptible.
With the last of his strength, he gripped Charles’s hand tightly.
The coldness of his fingers was heartbreaking. The source of this chapter is g.com.
“Please… grant me… one final request…”
“Tell me. I’m listening.”
Charles bent closer, his voice low.
“For me… rid this place… of every Beast… End this… endless… Nightmare…”
A final spark of determination flared in the boy’s eyes.
“Let Yharnam… know peace again…”
“I promise.”
Charles looked into his eyes and gave his solemn word.
The boy’s breathing gradually weakened.
Only after hearing Charles’s firm reply did he seem to cast off an unbearable burden.
A faint smile of relief and peace appeared on his face before he closed his eyes forever.
In Yharnam, where Beasts ran rampant and madness spread unchecked, Hunters were both protectors and wretched victims, toyed with again and again by a merciless fate that eventually devoured them.
Charles sighed deeply, his heart weighed down by helpless sorrow.
He carefully lifted the young Hunter’s body and carried him to a relatively clean, dry corner deep within the sewers.
There, he buried him with his own hands and piled broken stones into a simple grave.
He found a reasonably flat slab of stone and carved an inscription into it with his dagger:
“A young Hunter who loved his homeland, a brave guardian of the sewers.”
While sorting through the boy’s few possessions, Charles found a neatly folded set of distinctive Hunter attire: a Hunter Hat with a broad front brim, a gas mask packed with special Incense, a dark coat with a short cape, leather gloves reinforced with metal plating, and a pair of tall boots.
Though stained with blood, the materials were unusual and the craftsmanship excellent.
Several Messengers appeared silently at his feet, their hollow voices whispering directly into his mind.
This specially treated Hunter’s attire was as dark as the night sky and could help conceal the wearer in shadow.
Its treated fabric also offered some protection against environmental contamination, Beast bites, and certain toxins.
Charles changed into the outfit without hesitation.
His movements were quick and efficient, and he felt neither discomfort nor moral unease.
Compared with the horrors lurking in every corner of the city and the constant struggle to survive, such sentiments were a luxury he could not afford.
The new attire fit him surprisingly well.
It carried a faint scent of Incense mixed with old blood, as though it could help him blend even more completely into the darkness.
…
But the rats here had long since ceased to resemble ordinary vermin.
They were as large as lions, their muscles swollen, their eyes crimson as blood.
Their backs were covered in revolting, ulcerated growths that constantly leaked pus.
Highly aggressive, they attacked any living thing on sight.
Charles soon found an effective way to deal with the numerous but unintelligent creatures.
Using the complicated terrain of the sewers, he lured them into narrow dead ends or the sealed ends of pipes, then blocked their escape with the serrated whip and slaughtered them efficiently.
The Incense mask filtered out some of the stench.
It also seemed to make certain sharp-sensed creatures less likely to notice him.
When his supply of Incense was almost exhausted and the acrid odor began forcing its way into his nostrils again, he had no choice but to withdraw for the time being.
He needed to return to the surface, replenish his supplies, and catch his breath.
At a bend where the passage divided, his keen eyes spotted a badly rusted iron ladder set into the wall and almost entirely buried beneath moss.
It extended upward and vanished into the darkness overhead.
Without hesitation, Charles climbed rapidly, using both hands and feet.
He was desperate to escape the suffocating, foul-smelling abyss beneath the city and return to the surface.
It might be just as dangerous there, but at least the air moved more freely.
When he emerged from the sewers, leaving behind their overpowering stench and aura of death, Yharnam at dusk revealed a different but equally unsettling face.
The setting sun still hung above the city, but the streets were no longer filled solely with madness and slaughter.
Dim candlelight flickered behind the windows of a few buildings like the fading glow of dying stars.
It showed that the Hunt had not completely broken the fragile, wary rhythm of daily life among the few townspeople who remained, assuming it could still be called life.
Clinging to a faint hope, Charles knocked on a heavy wooden door that appeared relatively intact, though fresh claw marks still marred its surface.
He lowered his voice.
“Forgive the intrusion. I urgently need some Incense to ward off poisonous fumes. Could you spare…”
“You despicable outsider! Don’t think you can trick me into opening this door with such a pathetic lie!”
A shrill voice filled with fear and hostility immediately answered from inside, followed by the heavy sound of the bolt being reinforced.
Charles hurried to explain, doing his best to sound sincere.
“I may be a traveler, but I am also a Hunter. I’m clearing the threats from the streets. I only need a little Incense. I mean no harm, and I’ll leave as soon as I have it.”
“Good heavens, what wickedness… How dare you pretend to be a noble Hunter! Get away from here, or you’ll regret it!”
The homeowner’s scorn was sharp as a blade, brimming with distrust and hostility toward outsiders.
Charles shook his head helplessly and was about to leave when a low, good-natured chuckle, utterly out of place amid the surrounding tension, caught his attention.