Something strange occurred when Gehrman realized the truth of this city, this land. He saw the last hope in Caster's eyes flicker out. He knew, they both had known, that there was a chance that something was terribly wrong. All of the lessons and knowledge of the Dream Realm that had been instilled in the Legacy child left him with a comprehensive understanding of this world and human's place in it. He had learned where the great cities of man were being built. He knew where they would soon conquer, and he knew that some of this world was not meant for humanity. There was simply no way of surviving these places, no way for people to settle here, these places were Death Zones.
This place was a Death Zone.
There was no escape.
This fact sunk into Gehrman and he felt…nothing.
When was the last time he was able to sleep without having to fear for his life? There was no such time; because of this, it felt less like a terrible revelation and more like the most natural next step.
The same could not be said for Caster, who had been silently ignoring all the signs and logic in his head and hoping that this hell was one where the Valor Clan had managed to invade. Yet now he had to recognize the grim truth: he was destined to die forgotten.
"There is no Gate? That doesn't make sense, how can there not be a Gate here of all places?" Caster asked in a breathy voice. For the first time, a new emotion appeared on the boy's face, Caster was genuinely terrified.
The random Sleeper gave the pair a blank stare, what once might have been pity was now a simple emptiness of someone who couldn't be bothered. "There is only one Gate in the entirety of the Forgotten Shore, and it is here, but it is impossible to reach."
The meaning was clear, but Caster had to be sure. "Wh-What is guarding the Gate?"
Instead of answering immediately, the Sleeper turned and looked upward, past the castle, and to the looming and dreadful Crimson Spire. "A Fallen Terror."
…
The truth of this place, the Forgotten Shore, was a harrowing one. It left its denizens in a state of either despair or delusion. This divide could be very handily seen through those who lived outside the castle, and those who lived within its "safe" walls.
Gehrman was now sitting on a bed, or rather his bed. He was in the dark, though it was day, the Spire outside his window blocked all light. In a way, this place was just as alien as the rest of the Forgotten Shore. The only difference was that it was ruled by humans instead of beasts.
It reminded Gehrman of a book he had once read (though from which life he could not recall). The story told of a group of children who were marooned on an island. The children initially reveled in their freedom and authority, but things quickly fell into chaos. Without order their survival fell into question. Those who sought to create an equal system for all on the island were squashed beneath those who were the largest and strongest. These strong children ruled with a brutal grip, they survived through the exploitation of the weak.
This was how the "Bright Lord" of this "Bright Castle" ruled the land. He was the strongest, and his values were the law. His authority, while absolute, was delegated to a select few. Most of his knowledge of them came from what he overheard. Though, he did ask some questions outright and gots some answers after acting like a naive child. He quickly learned that this was the best method to gather information after almost inciting an incident after beating the shit out of one of the Castle Guard. Luckily, no one was around and the guy was too embarrassed to admit he was beaten up by a kid. Later that day though he realized his error when a group started searching for the culprit and the truth behind the castle was made apparent.
Everything belonged to Gunlaug: The Bright Lord. So if you touched anything or anyone that worked for him then you would incur the wrath of the entire castle.
His influence was broken down into 5 sections. With each section being led by a powerful lieutenant.
The Castle Guard did what it sounded like. They stood on the castle walls and at its gates. They trained, and they acted as law enforcement. At least, they were supposed to, but in reality they never did much of anything and were considered the lowest on the totem pole.
The Hunters were responsible for gathering food. They went out into the ruins of the Dark City, the place that chilled Gehrman and Caster on their initial approach. This place was overrun with powerful Nightmare creatures. Some of which were Awakened Demons, Devils, and even a couple of Fallen of low class. Surprisingly, this was quite a large area. This was the area where the Hunters did their work. Nevertheless, Gehrman felt no kinship with them despite sharing a name. They operated more like the Church Hunters, in other words they were still soldiers and warriors. They were inherently different from Gehrman.
However, it was the Pathfinders who truly held authority over the treacherous land. There were only a dozen or so of these elites. They were the ones who knew the Dark City like the back of their hand and knew how to avoid the most dangerous creatures and find prey that would feed the Castle.
Failing this, the Castle relied on the next group, the Artisans. These were the people with unique Aspects that could affect Memories or other things that were needed in everyday life. They were the builders, and the backbone of the City's infrastructure. They also cultivated some plants that were safe to eat, allowing for denizens of the castle to have a balanced diet and comfortable lifestyle.
The final group were called the Handmaidens. They were the most miscellaneous group, handling things like chores and everyday menial tasks. They were all female, and all "belonged" to Gunlaug. No one laid a hand on them, and they were treated with a reverence that Gehrman found odd. That was until he saw their leader. It was only in passing, but he recognized her immediately.
Sitting in the corner of the mess hall where food was given out, he had seen her and several other girls pass by. They didn't stop to eat, no doubt they would do so on their own, not with normal residents. It was only for a moment, but that moment would change Gehrman immensely.
Seishan was, without a doubt, the most terrifying and beautiful thing he had ever laid eyes on. Her skin was a chilled grey, changed by her Aspect. Perfect, like it was carved out of stone by a master artist who dedicated years to developing his ultimate work. He found himself staring at her, enchanted truly and thoroughly. Her presence was even more enticing, ominous and restrained. It made Gehrman's heart beat so loud he could hear it.
When she stopped to look him in the eyes he thought he might die.
Instead he looked down, stood up, and walked away.
Later that night he had reflected on this and found madness creeping into his mind. They didn't look anything alike, but he thought she was there for a moment.
Maria.
His most beloved.
This sent him into a spiral. Gehrman's foundation was shaken simply from this one name. This one person. She was the most clear memory from any of his lives. This was because the old Gehrman had been so taken by her that it had become an obsession. Love or lust, neither did justice to the feeling that had taken root in Gehrman's soul. It was something that he had not considered in his short existence, but he was very…confused when it came to these emotions.
The nameless prodigy had memories of a doll who shared her likeness. He had a great fondness for the doll, but he also knew its origin. Crafted by Gehrman in his lowest point to act as a replacement for her. The doll was treated poorly by old Gehrman for not being good enough, for nothing could replace this image that he had in his head of Maria.
This image was so powerful that it would have been a core of the current Gehrman's entire personality except for one big thing: it was inherently wrong.
Maria had been many years younger than Gehrman, and she had also been one of his pupils. This fact alone made the boy sick. The boy whose body he now lived in, had become something of a moral compass. His ideals had the greatest impact on the current Gehrman's actions.
The nameless prodigy was also disgusted with old Gehrman, for he found the treatment of the doll to be unacceptable. The doll was the only one who treated that hunter with kindness on that night.
So he struggled with an obsession so deep and strong that it felt a part of himself, and the disgust of himself for even harboring such emotions.
Gherman knew who he was. He was The Last Hunter of Yharnam…but who was he outside of that? Who was he when he was alone in his room? Who was he when there were no beasts to fight?
He struggled with this until the sun rose, not sleeping a wink.
Why did he even live?
This was the question he had settled on. His purpose was to hunt, but to what end? His lust for blood was pure and right, the only thing he knew for certain he could rely on. However, that wasn't enough. He wasn't in Yharnam anymore, he didn't fight for anyone. Did he do it just because it brought him fulfillment? Was this going to be the rest of his life? Living in this castle, going out to hunt every week so he could have a bed to sleep in? Why? What was the end goal?
What was the old Gehrman's end goal? It was to find the truth about…
What was the nameless prodigies end goal? To transcend the hunt by finding the…
What was the boy's end goal? To learn the truth of the Nightmare Spell, and help build a future where nobody had to be afraid.
The boy's ambition was surprisingly clear and strong. Though he had been naive, his drive was no less than his other lives.
This was the only goal that he could remember. This shook Gehrman even more. After thinking long and hard he realized that the decades of memories from old Gehrman were not complete. He remembered his youth, he remembered creating the Old Hunter's Workshop to fight the Beasts. He remembered fighting the plague. Teaching, inventing, killing. Then…a fog that rose and fell over certain points of his past. It obscured some truth, some key reason behind why he fought.
What caused even greater unease was when he compared the memories of the nameless hunter and old Gehrman. The aged man had been in his memories. He recalled that strange place where the current Gehrman first woke up. The field of flowers, the graves, the endless pillars in the endless abyss. Old Gehrman had been there for years before the nameless hunter appeared, but he remembered none of it.
The nameless hunter remembered that place as where he met the doll, he remembered lighting lamps and traveling inexplicably throughout Yharnam. He recalled slaughtering countless beasts in the city and traversing through a cursed forest. Then, as he approached Byrgenwerth, his memories became hazy. It was as if certain parts of his existence were too strange and terrible to comprehend, so they had been locked away.
So what was there to do?
Gehrman could only sit and ponder.
What did he want to do?
He wanted to hunt, but he also wanted to create. He wanted to learn more. He wanted those memories that had been locked away. He wanted to know the truth. He wanted to find satisfaction in building something that no one else could.
With this in mind, he decided his next step.
He had a reason now. One that was completely his own. He would find the truth of this world. The truth behind his creation and rebirth in this new world. He would create new tools to help others have better lives.
He would do all of this, not for some greater calling, but simply because he wanted to. This was how The Last Hunter, Gehrman would change the world.