A woman clad in the garb of a Sister of the Healing Church came up to him and offered a satchel that was familiar as the kind that contained blood vials and a tube of quicksilver bullets, both of which he accepted and could easily tell just by their weight that they were full. As soon as she had moved aside, a man in peasant's clothes approached and handed him a Hunter's Axe and blunderbuss, which he took as well. He thanked them politely, though what he truly felt was not so much gratitude as it was resentment, toward them and the entire organization responsible for all of this. He felt a creeping fear and anxiety, dreading what was to come, yet at the same time he was filled with an unyielding resolve: he would survive. No matter what, he would live.
The voice uttering the thanks would be familiar as well, as it was the same deep bass that Skinner had spoken with. But at this time, though he still towered over most other people assembled in the room, Skinner looked quite different. His appearance was much more groomed and refined, his limbs were slender and athletic rather than bulging and musclebound, and he was dressed in the garb of a Tomb Prospector.
And he was not alone: aside from the Sisters of the church, various workers milling about and an assortment of Byrgenwerth scholars here in the halls of their school, there was another Tomb Prospector with him. Another man of impressive stature, though not quite as tall as Skinner, who currently had his hood down so you could plainly see his handsome features, his brown hair tied in a ponytail. The same peasant that had given Skinner his axe returned to deliver this other Hunter a Church Pick and a pistol.
This other prospector turned and looked at Skinner with beautiful brown eyes and offered a smile that showed off perfect white teeth. A strong admiration, fondness and, indeed, perhaps a hint of arousal bubbled up from within Skinner, prompting him to smile back. Yet as much as he liked this man, there was still a part of him that disliked him as well. They were both here about to undertake a dangerous task that would likely cost them their lives, but their situations were quite different nonetheless. While people treated Skinner reservedly and with caution, people tended to like this man; and while Skinner was consumed with dread, this man appeared to be fearless.

“Relax, it'll be fine,” the man said, and even his voice was charming. Somehow, despite rationally knowing only too well that this was an empty assurance, Skinner actually felt comforted by his words. “I've done this lots of times before. We'll only be gone for a few days, and I'll be with you every step of the way.”
That was easy for him to say, though; this bright-eyed youth was here by his own volition, eager to explore the depths of the Old Labyrinth in service of the Healing Church and the gods. The Healing Church respected him for his courage and strength as a Hunter alike, while Skinner... Skinner's faith had been shaken. He had been to the fishing hamlet where First Hunter Gehrman and his aide, Maria, were doing their research, and had seen what they were doing. What the Healing Church was doing. His refusal to follow orders there was what had brought him here, to be sent to a place where no one could see or hear him... and from which he was unlikely to return alive, let alone with his sanity intact.
They were to search for relics and artifacts, of course, as all Tomb Prospectors sent into the Old Labyrinth did. Ever since Laurence, Gehrman and William found this entrance, and since they discovered the vessel of the Old Blood, more were sent into the depths to search for treasure every month.
“My name is Ludwig,” the Hunter introduced himself unnecessarily with an elegant bow, which Skinner awkwardly did his best to return.
“I'm Izzy.”


Izzy swung his axe, currently transformed to be longer and used with both hands, in a wide arc, sweeping aside three undead Pthumerians in one mighty blow, only for all three of them to disperse into smoke upon death while yet more followed. Skinner was painting heavily and sweating profusely, his stamina being pushed to its limit by these hordes of creatures swarming at him, coming in waves over and over, all while that damnable bell kept ringing somewhere nearby in the halls of the Old Labyrinth.
Please hurry, he pleaded, taking a couple of steps back to give himself just another breath or two before more undead reached him, prompting him to cleave through their feeble but numerous forms with his axe yet again. Then, finally, he heard the bell fall to the ground, and all the undead arrayed before him abruptly disintegrated without requiring him to dispatch them. You won't get me. I will survive. I'll live, no matter what.
It took a minute or so before Ludwig returned, bloody and somewhat disheveled, his face paler and more gaunt than it used to be, yet with a bright smile on his face. “Sorry it took so long, but I had to fight my way through another Keeper and his dogs to get to her.”
“It's fine,” Skinner lied, subtly pulling down his sleeve in an effort to hide a cut there that had yet to regenerate. “Did you find a way forward, at least?”
“I'm not sure.” Ludwig wiped the sweat off his brow and left a trail of grime in its place. “But I think I found the door that lever from earlier opened. It looks like there's a big room through there... probably another guardian.”
“Great,” Skinner groaned sarcastically. “What are we waiting for?”
“Hold on.” Ludwig stared at Skinner's hand, and looking down he realized that blood from his wound was dripping from his fingertips. “You need blood.”
“I'm fine for a little while yet,” Skinner growled, giving his best try at a reassuring smile, which turned into a pain grimace. “I only have two vials left; it'll heal in a few minutes, we don't need to spend blood on that.”
“Absolutely not.” Before Skinner could stop him, Ludwig walked up to him and jabbed him in the thigh with a syringe, upon which Skinner immediately felt the rejuvenating power of the Old Blood awaken within him and his wound closing in an instant. “And before you protest, consider it your share; I managed to fill a couple of vials from one of the Keeper's dogs.”
Skinner grunted noncommittally, but within a few seconds muttered a belated: “Thank you.”
“We're in this together, Izzy,” the other assured him, and though Ludwig looked just as ravaged and weakened by the days spent in these dark tunnels as Skinner, there was a curious strength of resolve within him that granted him an infectious sense of bravery to go on. “For the church and in the name of the gods, we will prevail, my friend.”
Skinner had to stop himself from audibly scoffing at the notion of doing any of this for the Healing Church or the gods. The church were the bastards that had sent him down here to die in the first place, and why would he serve gods that refused to do anything for him? He was here because he had to be, because he refused to die... and because he had Ludwig by his side.


A crack of thunder shook the halls of the Old Labyrinth as bolts of lightning tore jagged furrows through the stone, and Skinner had to quickstep to take cover behind a large piece of rubble in order to avoid being reduced to a charred husk, and Ludwig joined him a second later, panting just as heavily as Skinner. The giant undead beast was the first of its kind either of them had ever seen or heard of, and it was by far the most powerful adversary they had ever fought. Its body was made up mostly of naked, deformed bones with bits of necrotic flesh still clinging to them, still somewhat clad in fur and sporting murderous claws. But even setting aside its size and durability, the most troublesome part about it was its ability to wreathe itself in lightning and even project that electric energy outward in waves.
“I'll go right, you go left,” Ludwig gasped, raising his Church Pick – its edge chipped and warped, barely holding itself together after their many days fighting through the ilk of the underground – and getting ready to reengage their opponent. “I'll try to get its attention so you can get in close and chop its head off.”
Nodding his head grimly, Skinner extended the handle of his axe – also quite worn, with its head chipped and handle cracked – and got ready to move. “Let's go.”

They each darted on on their own side of the rubble and immediately started circling the nightmarish monster harrying them. Ludwig grabbed a molotov cocktail from his belt, lit the rag stuffed into it and threw it at the beast, only for the glass bottle to shatter on impact, spreading the flammable liquid that was instantly ignited by the burning rag. The dark beast let out a harrowing cry as its fur was lit aflame, and angrily swiped a huge, clawed hand toward Ludwig, who had to dive out of the way.
Skinner winced, feeling his hair standing on end and beginning to crackle with static electricity the closer he got to this creature, but forced himself to endure. It was focusing on Ludwig at the moment; not only was this the best opening he was going to get, but he had to stop it to save his friend.
I will live, he thought, raising his axe high over his head, and so will you, Ludwig. Even if it kills me, we'll both live.
With every shred of strength he could muster, Skinner swung his axe down onto the back of the skeletal beast's neck... only for the handle to break on impact, sending the axe-head clattering across the floor and leaving Skinner armed with only a bit of splintered wood.
Despite himself, Skinner could not help but smile as he saw one of the beast's hands coming toward him. Finding it morbidly amusing that after everything he had endured, it was something like this that was going to end him.
But Ludwig, the madman, got in the way; stepped in front of the hand being swung thrusting his Church Pick straight into its palm, piercing straight through it. Again the creature howled and thrashed in agony, its hand jerking away from Ludwig to escape the pain, wresting the weapon from his hands. Again its attention shifted.
Ludwig turned to Skinner and smiled. Charming. Fearless. Content.
Skinner screamed, his eyes filling with tears. Ugly. Terrified. Defiant.
The beast swatted Ludwig aside like he was nothing, sending him tumbling across the floor and – to Skinner's utmost horror – across the edge of a pit. He fell in silence and disappeared.

Skinner stared. For what felt like an extremely long time, he just stared at that spot where Ludwig had disappeared. Stared in disbelief. Stared in fear. Stared with determination.
Something awakened in him that was not part of him; hatred, rage and bloodthirst, yes, but those were emotions utterly natural for a Hunter. What revealed itself from the depths of Skinner's soul was not just that, but hunger. That word echoed within him, consuming him, coalescing into something more than a mere word as mortals spoke them. The kind of word humans could not hope to utter.
A madness whispered in his mind, promising him vengeance, and he welcomed it; welcomed the strength he found in insanity.
He leaped at the undead monster and landed astride on its back, burying the fingers of his left hand in its fur and tangling his fingers in it, while plunging the jagged remains of his axe into its body. Electric currents ran through him as he was now in direct contact with the abomination, burning his flesh and melting his hair, but Skinner did not care. He let out a roar to rival those produced by the beast, buried his face into its back, and sank his teeth into its rotten, still-living flesh. He tore a mouthful off, swallowed greedily, and felt himself being restored and empowered. Felt his muscles growing and bulging, filled with a power that was not his own.
He pulled the axe-handle free, breaking it even more as he did so, and jumped again, this time landing on the back of the creature's head. He plunged the axe-handle into one of its empty eye sockets until he found the familiar consistency of a brain. He pulled it back out, and stabbed again. And again. And again.


Skinner climbed down the sheer stone wall. He was sweaty, filthy, his clothes were ruined rags, but he descended nevertheless. He was going to live, and so was Ludwig.
His right hand punched at the wall, stabbing the pair of still-living bone blades he had harvested from the monster into the stone and tied together with strips of cloth, using them as a handhold so he could get down.
His left hand slammed into the stone and buried its bestial claws, transformed by the influence of the power of the beast he was tapping into, and used their inhuman strength to allow him to go further.
Down and down into the darkness of the pit he went. How long did he scale that wall? Seconds? Minutes? Hours? Days? Who knew. Did it matter? Time meant nothing in the Old Labyrinth. He was going down. He was getting Ludwig. There was nothing else.
But then, eventually, there was a light in the darkness: a soft, pale light, as if a ray of moonlight had somehow gotten lost and ended up in the bowels of the earth. It was not far below, but he kept scaling the wall until he felt ground under his feet.
Finally he found Ludwig who was, against all odds, alive. Skinner stared at his friend, overcome with disbelief and joy in equal measure, but also confusion. Ludwig did not appear to be incapacitated; what damage he had taken in the fall had evidently regenerated already, though it would doubtlessly have far surpassed the capacity of his regenerative potential. Skinner's fellow Hunter and Tomb Prospector had survived somehow... but that was not all.
Ludwig was cradling a giant sword made mostly of light. Was gently, lovingly stroking its blade, caressing it with the affection of a lover and the reverence of a disciple. Inexplicably he seemed healthier than he had last Skinner saw him, and there was something about the way the sword's luminescence glimmered in his eyes did not seem not quite natural. And those eyes looked upon the sword with such boundless admiration... no, more than that. Obsession.
“Ludwig?” Skinner called, his voice weirdly distant and hollow.
The other only hesitantly tore his gaze from the sword in his arms, and looked at Skinner with a soft, serene smile. “It was here all along, Izzy. Right here, waiting for us. For me. The gods meant for me to have it; it is the reason we are here, for me to get this. A true mentor. My guiding moonlight...”
“Let's get out of here,” Skinner growled, trying instinctively to take a step backward only to find his back against the wall. For some reason the sight of that sword filled him with dread. “Fuck the Healing Church, and fuck the gods; we've done enough. We both nearly died. Let's go; let's show those plague-ridden rats by getting out of here alive.”
“Izzy, Izzy, Izzy...” Ludwig shook his head and laughed softly. “Look at you. Look at what you've become. You spit on the grace of the gods and wield the power of beasts. I will return, but I think it would be better if you stayed here a while longer.”
Skinner felt his heart sink. “Ludwig?”
“The Healing Church will benefit enormously from me having this sword. I will be a champion to them, a hero to lead the Hunters of the Healing Church once they figure out that old one-legged Gehrman isn't fit to hunt anymore.” Ludwig stood and held up the Holy Moonlight Sword in front of him, gently resting his forehead on the flat of its blade. “But what could we possibly stand to gain by you being out among people like that? You'd be a disgrace to Hunters, the Healing Church and even to the gods. Someone like me needs to be seen, and held up as a symbol. Something like you... well, it's better for everyone if you were just forgotten.”
He lowered his sword and aimed its tip at Skinner. “I'm leaving. And you will stay here. Mark my words: if I see you again, Izzy, I will smite you with this holy blade.”
“Ludwig –” Skinner began, ignoring his instincts telling him to run and instead taking a step forward. In response Ludwig, which speed that seemed like it should have been impossible with such a large weapon, swung his sword through the empty air... and, in doing so, fired off a wave of shimmering force that struck Skinner like a battering ram.
Skinner got knocked off his feet, landed with his back against the wall, and started to panic at the realization that he could not breathe; his rib cage was crushed and lungs collapsed. He could taste blood. It only took a couple of seconds for him to regenerate and be able to breathe again, but the realization that the hit he had just taken – the hit delivered to him by his only friend – could easily have been lethal had still sown a new horror in Skinner's heart. He's stronger now... much too strong. He could kill me with ease.
“Take comfort in knowing that I will bright light to the Healing Church,” Ludwig told him elatedly. “My Church Hunters will be honorable spartans. There will be a golden age.” He looked the sword covetously. “No... an age of light.”


Kill. Eat. Live.
Kill. Eat. Live.
How long have I been stuck in this nightmare? Is it safe for me to leave? Will it ever be safe? Ludwig will kill me. He will really kill me. I can't win.
Kill. Eat. Live.
Kill. Eat. Live.
I will consume these creatures and make their strength my own, and I will wear part of them so that what I ate keeps feeding my strength. I will become strong enough. I will!
Kill. Eat. Live.
Kill. Eat. Live.
I will live. I will survive. I will kill. I will kill Ludwig. I will kill them all.

And the memory fades...