In what appeared to be a large dining hall, dozens of people congregated together.
"Cheers!" With a celebratory toast, the guests clinked their cups laden with beer.
At the corner of the hall, Claude grimaced as he sipped his drink; he could never get used to the heavy burning sensation in his throat.
It had been a week since the attack of the Bloodborne, and he was left breathless with his preparations to leave.
"Claude?!" Peter's voice caught his attention as he felt his shoulder being patted.
Turning around, he saw Peter accompanied by his wife Dorothy, a gentle woman whom Peter had married a few years prior.
"Don't hide away here, look who I brought to meet you!"
Hearing that, Claude's eyes were soon directed to what was being held by Peter in his arms.
A child.
But not just any child. It was Ida, Peter's daughter who was the star of this reception; celebrating her second birthday.
The little bundle of joy had raven, black hair like her father but had inherited the emerald eyes of her mother.
"Unkwel!" She cried out as Peter placed her onto the floor, and began to waddle over to Claude with uncertain steps.
Her small eyes twinkled as she grasped the edge of his trousers, staring at him.
With a begrudging sigh, Claude bent down and picked her up, causing her mouth to widen with joy as she began to giggle to herself.
"When did she learn to walk?" Claude turned to Peter.
"It was only a few months ago, she wanted to give you a little surprise." Peter chuckled. "Despite not seeing you recently she still seems quite attached to you."
"Don't be so sour, dear." By his side, Dorothy grasped his arm as she spoke up. "Ida just wanted to give her Uncle Claude a surprise, no need to be jealous."
Her words caused them to stare at each other blankly before bursting into a fit of mirthless laughter.
Time soon passed as they chattered, and Dorothy picked up Ida from Claude's arms and returned to the centre of the hall, interacting with the friends and family who had come to the party.
"So…" Peter broke the silence between the two. "Is it tomorrow that you will be leaving?"
The only response he received was a gentle nod from Claude.
"You know," Peter stared at the chandeliers that littered the ceiling of the hall, "it almost feels like it was yesterday when I first met you at the entrance of the settlement."
"The hope and joy shared amongst everyone when they learned of your identity."
He paused momentarily.
"The sorrows of our expedition along with its achievements."
His sombre tone soon faded.
"And now look at us. I already have a daughter, and you're about to set off on your journey…"
"What I'm trying to say is, don't forget us. Not me, Karl, Agnes, or the others. Try to visit us if you can in the future." He stared into Claude's hazel eyes. "Most importantly… Please stay safe."
Claude looked around the room, taking in the scene one last time. The laughter, the warmth, the camaraderie—all of it filled him with a bittersweet nostalgia.
Nevertheless, he understood he couldn't just stay in this world forever. He had to return, he had to avenge those he had lost that night.
As the night wore on, the celebration continued, but for Claude, it was a night of farewells and promises.
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The next day, Claude stood at the entrance of the outer city, which was still battered by both the passage of time and the prior Bloodborne conflict.
Standing around him was everyone in the city; none had even tried to think of not sending Claude off.
The elderly, the sick, the children—everyone congregated there.
An ocean of heads bobbed and weaved, with the undertone of melancholy piercingly etched onto their facial features.
"Claude, we hope you don't mind the scene; everyone is simply thankful for your help over the years."
"No, no. It's fine," Claude shook his head. "I wanted to leave a small gift before I leave. I've modified the bullets of the steam weaponry we found. It should allow you to defend yourself against any Bloodborne attack in the future without as much trouble as before."
Ever since he saw the Bloodborne in action, Claude realised the steam rifles weren't going to cut it by themselves.
Inspired by how he had taken care of Bloodborne prior, the new bullets Claude had created would burst upon contact and release boiling hot steam on release.
It was a measure to prevent the Bloodborne from swiftly recovering from their wounds and from weaponizing their blood.
Karl was gobsmacked at what he heard.
A surge of relief and guilt flooded his heart.
He was glad they were now able to better protect themselves without Claude's help, but he felt like Claude was giving them too much help.
"But… Karl, I've been meaning to ask."
"The Bloodborne doesn't seem to be particularly intelligent; why do you think they also want to go after the ruins?"
Karl heaved in relief; he could offer at least some information in consolation for Claude's efforts.
"Honestly, it's as much a mystery to us as it is to you. But from stories told by our forefathers, they always mentioned that the Bloodborne were merely puppets, following instructions by a great unknown for purposes unclear."
"This… God? For lack of better words, never had a true name, but we always called it…"
"Lord of the Undying Night."