The Beginning of Bloodborne

Her mind was no longer calm, much like a lake surface gently stirred by a breeze.

Though its ripples shimmered, it could no longer reflect the true self hidden deep within its waters.

The doll took a deep breath, then slowly exhaled.

The air, imbued with a faint trace of magic, coalesced into a subtle white mist beneath the morning fog, shimmering with a soft blue luminescence.

‘Why this restlessness? Why this vexation?’

Even a mind that had known a thousand years of tranquility was now stirred by ripples.

‘That malevolent puppeteer should have been eliminated. Yet, why did I ultimately falter? What emotions held sway over me at that moment?’

…

‘Ha, it seems I still harbor some concern for the person I once was.’

For vengeance, I had forsaken my very humanity.

For vengeance, I had twisted my own soul into something unrecognizable.

For vengeance, I had plunged headfirst into a crimson abyss.

To uphold the increasingly warped hatred and justice festering within my heart, I had cast aside everything.

Kinship, friendship, affection, joy, sincerity, fear, sorrow, pity—they all departed, leaving behind nothing but a hollow shell of flesh.

To fear slaughter, to abhor it, to be forced into it, to grow accustomed, to become numb, to perform it indifferently, to eventually love it, to praise it, to crave it…

‘You are all corrupt officials, you revel in wickedness, you extort and oppress—it makes no difference! If the so-called Holy Light cannot punish you, then allow me, the fallen, to be your executioner!’

Endless massacres, endless conspiracies, endless avarice, endless delirium…

It was only when I struck down another detestable individual, and their daughter witnessed the act, that I truly comprehended what I had become.

In her eyes, so hauntingly similar to my sister’s, lay a profound despair and grief, reflecting the image of a blood-red, savagely laughing murderer.

Even after eliminating everyone connected to the massacre of Count William’s family, I did not cease.

Instead, I succumbed to the euphoria that blood offered, inevitably transforming into a hollow husk sustained solely by a warped intent to kill.

I still recall that night, when I fled the city in a frantic escape.

On a desolate, grassy hill, beneath the pure, dignified moon, I silently wept cold tears.

In the tranquil years that followed, I deliberately emptied my mind, striving to become a genuinely gentle and reserved individual.

Though my efforts were brief, the sincere smiles of the simple folk I aided brought me genuine solace.

Even during the long, sealed years, those smiles remained a source of warmth.

‘Ah, now that I reflect upon it, the puppeteer’s twisted nature truly mirrors my own past self. Both of us abandoned everything for a singular goal, and both gradually corrupted ourselves in its pursuit. Perhaps this is why I hesitated to deliver the killing blow?’

Still, despite his soul being filled with obsession and decay, he is considerably better than the blood-soaked individual I once was.

‘It appears that even after a millennium, even as time blurs and my state of mind shifts, the crimson madness of that era remains deeply etched within my heart.’

‘Nevertheless… well, it’s time to look forward. Besides, I am no longer alone.’

The doll’s delicate face tilted slightly, catching a glimpse of the moon’s faint disk, barely visible beneath the sparse daylight.

In that moment, she seemed to envision Holo, encircled by wolves, offering a wide, radiant smile.

Neigh!

As if his nose were tickled by the crisp morning dew, Rao let out a ferocious sneeze.

A spray of saliva scattered, likely flattening countless flowers and blades of grass.

The doll chuckled, a soft, amused sound.

“Oh, right! And you, too!”

A slender hand patted the black horse’s sleek back, and a silvery, bell-like laughter rang from the doll’s lips.

“Rao! Head towards the rising sun, and let us witness all the magnificent sights this world has to offer!”

Whinny!

The black horse subtly rolled its eyes, as if silently scorning its master’s latest inexplicable whim.

Nevertheless, it broke into a trot, leaving a string of hoofprints on the verdant grass as it galloped towards the luminous horizon.

The distant sky was clean and bright, mirroring a heart that had rediscovered its clarity.

Deep within the forest stood a gloomy and enigmatic Gothic edifice.

Winds originating from the forest swept through its tall, slender windows, spiraling within the desolate, eerie stairwells.

They left behind a peculiar, chilling howl that sent shivers down one’s spine.

Within the silent, narrow corridors, faint cries and lamentations seemed to echo.

They lingered among the sculptures adorned with eyeballs and contorted faces, unable to find peace.

Even the bright sunlight, filtering through its stained glass, was reduced to mere coolness and solitude.

This only served to amplify the eerie dread permeating the sinister structure.

Yet, within this cavernous building, an argument had erupted between two individuals.

Flickering, dim yellow candlelight cast its murky glow across a cluttered room, overflowing with manuscripts.

Between the interplay of light and shadow, the outline of a figure reclined in a chair.

It was a beardless, slightly stout old man, clutching a scepter and draped in magnificent robes.

His wrinkled face bore an expression of deep concern as he regarded the young man standing before him, clad in a student’s religious habit.

“Master William, I have come to bid you farewell.”

Though the young man in the religious habit bowed slightly, his face remained impassive.

Yet, a subtle hint of disdain flickered in his eyes, as if he scorned the old man who had once imparted knowledge to him.

“Lawrence… what you are doing is an act of betrayal…”

“Master, you overstate the matter. How can this possibly be deemed betrayal? Is it not prudent to make the most of what we possess? Through divine blood therapy, no illness will ever conquer us! Moreover…”

The old man in the reclining chair interrupted his student, speaking with a grave tone.

“Lawrence, your ideas are far too perilous.”

“We study the Blood of the Old Gods, gaining insight into it, and through that, we’ve glimpsed the secrets of the ancient deities. However, that must never be a justification for us to abuse divine blood.”

“We ought to fear the Blood of the Old Gods, and we ought to revere it. Do not presume we have uncovered all the secrets of the Old Gods.”

“The Old Gods are vast, sublime, and utterly unnameable. Should you delve too deeply into their true nature, you will be consumed by unimaginable terror, unable to bear such knowledge.”

“You will surely go mad!”

The old man’s plea, brimming with genuine concern, failed to sway the young man in the slightest.

Instead, it only served to deepen his palpable disdain.

“Master William, you are old. Your thoughts have withered, much like the decay of your very blood. The Old Gods are indeed sublime, truly beyond the comprehension of ordinary mortals.”

“However, we have spent years studying their blood and the knowledge derived from those unnamable entities. We have already earned the right to communicate with such beings. If we merely offer our reverence, what great danger could there possibly be? Therefore, Teacher, you are truly old.”

“We…”

“Enough, Teacher, I must depart. My companions await me still. The glory of the Old Gods shall ultimately be reborn in this world, and we shall ascend as the sublime architects of a new era!”

“Finally, Teacher, I do not perceive this as betrayal. It is merely that you can no longer keep pace with our advancement.”

“Farewell.”

Watching his student stride out of the cluttered room with an air of arrogant confidence, Master William’s eyes finally betrayed an uncontrollable sorrow and a profound sigh.

He collapsed weakly into the rocking chair, utterly spent.

‘If only I hadn’t read those inherited manuscripts, if only I hadn’t opened the ancient door to that subterranean crypt…’

Beneath his murmuring, a deep and sorrowful sigh seemed to emanate from the layered manuscripts themselves.

“We ought to revere the Blood of the Old Gods. We shall ultimately be influenced by the Blood of the Old Gods.”

“We are born from the Blood of the Old Gods; we shall perish by the Blood of the Old Gods.”

“The Blood of the Old Gods is an unspeakable terror. The Blood of the Old Gods resides within nightmares from which there is no escape.”

“The horror born from the subterranean crypt has finally resurfaced under the heavens. We shall ultimately descend into madness. We shall ultimately wander through endless nightmares…”

Within the old man’s cloudy eyes, the illusory form of a multi-eyed spider faintly materialized.

Upon the building’s towering spire, a black stone gargoyle seemed to be chuckling to itself.

It was as if it foresaw the imminent descent of blood and madness.