Blood Drunk Hunter (Shadow Slave/Bloodborne Fic)

"You have got to be shitting me," Gehrman cussed, not even considering what a waste it was to be talking. From the sheer presence of the supernatural water, he could tell that it held terrible and unbelievably dangerous things. On top of that, the strange light drained from the sky, turning everything as dark as the encroaching water.

Already past his limit, Gehrman willed himself upward toward the towering red coral that curved over the locust nest he now climbed. It did not directly attach to the dome, but it was close enough that he could (probably) jump onto it. That coral was the highest peak. If the water covered it, then it would cover everything.

It was then that the very water reached, and then swiftly engulfed him. Its levels had risen even faster than he could have imagined. Indeed, at the sight of the growing ocean, all of Gehrman's experience became useless. Though he had already considered his years as a hunter in Yharnman to not equate to expertise in the Dream Realm, this was still far outside his expectations. 

The absurdity of the situation did not halt his survival instincts though. With a powerful and enhanced movement Gehrman propelled himself upward. Meanwhile, he focused everything he had on his [Sixth Sense]. 

It was then that a cold chill encompassed his being. This black water indeed had some supernatural properties. Even focusing on fully utilizing his Attribute, Gehrman could not get a clear image of his surroundings. The locust nest seemed to have completely disappeared. 

Feeling a sense of vulnerability that he had not felt in a long time, Gehrman kept moving despite the growing pressure in his head. 

A thought, perhaps induced by madness or stress, occurred. Oxygen was needed to keep the blood flowing through one's body. Since, Gehrman's blood was moving so fast, didn't that mean he required more oxygen to move?

You have got to be shitting me! This time, Gehrman managed to keep the curse internal. After all, screaming out would definitely lead to his death. 

A few seconds of blinding pain later, only barely avoiding passing out, Gehrman broke through the surface. 

He gulped down a great breath of air, feeling his lungs quickly right themselves. Then, feverishly whipping his head about, he observed his surroundings. They were pitch black, but his [Sixth Sense] still worked above water, and he could make out the top of the coral poking out of the black ocean just like a small island. His instincts had been correct. 

What he had not anticipated was that it was not empty. The sight, or rather sensing, of another human being nearly caused Gehrman to choke. Several quick thoughts ran through his head, but he pushed them away. Even if the person was a murderer, he could just kill them first. Then, he could sleep. 

Gehrman reached the coral and tried to get a grip on the sides of it, finding it slippery and unfamiliar. Before he could reorient himself, he felt a strong hand grasp his arm. That arm pulled with great force and Gehrman was hurled up onto the coral, onto the safe (relatively speaking) land.

Quickly righting himself, as was his instinct, Gehrman turned to face the man, or rather the boy. His build was impressive, and his stance and demeanor indicated thorough training. He couldn't make out many details other than that, but Gehrman started to realize that he wasn't sure if he could beat him. 

In a raspy voice Gehrman called out to him. "Are you going to try and kill me?"

"What? No, of course not," the boy replied. However, there was little actual surprise in his tone. It seemed that this was a question he had also considered asking Gehrman.

"Don't bullshit me. I am not going to attack you. So you need to promise not to attack me for at least two days. If you do, I'll follow whatever orders you give me for the next two days."

This ultimatum seemed to catch the boy off guard. Though he could not see his face, Gehrman sensed the other man to consider the offer seriously. It was a dangerous ploy, putting himself at the mercy of this stranger, but he had little choice.

Then, after a few moments of painful silence the boy spoke. "You will follow me until we get back to Bastion, or whatever the nearest settlement is."

Gehrman's eye twitched. It was way out of line, and the counteroffer held a dark promise in the event that he turned it down. The boy was, evidently, not a stranger to human conflict. Gehrman wasn't an expert in the matter, and he frankly couldn't care.

"Fine."

Then he fell forward and passed out.

...

Gehrman did not dream. How could he? He was in the Dream Realm after all. Even then, while he slumbered, he saw things. Not people, not places, not even things. Perhaps it was concepts, ideas, and other intangible things. 

None of this mattered, since as soon as Gehrman opened his eyes he remembered nothing except the cold blackness of sleep. 

It was no longer dark out, which was a small comfort. The red coral dominated his vision. He had remained laying down right where he passed out. Despite the height, there was no wind. The dread of this alien and apocalyptic landscape came back to him immediately. 

What he recalled next was the boy. 

He could not see him in his current position, but Gehrman could feel him. His presence seemed less oppressive than he recalled. The boy's entire aura seemed to have changed. This was curious enough that it made Gehrman sit up and turn to face him.

In the light, he could finally make out his features. He was well built, with objectively handsome features. His complexion was darker than any he had seen in Yharnam, but not unfamiliar to the boy's memories. The people of the city he had grown up in had a great variety in their skin tones and features. What was most striking were his eyes. 

The boy looked up at him after noticing his movement. The green eyes were in stark contrast with the rest of his appearance, making him seem exotic. 

Strangely, Gehrman could not sense any of the cold, calculating hostility that he had sensed last night. 

"Hello, finally awake, are we?" He greeted with a warm grin. 

In response, Gehrman made a grunt. Still analyzing and puzzling over this drastic shift in behavior. This vague response did not seem to dissuade the boy as he continued onward. 

"I am sorry about this, but I am afraid I can't remember your name. I think we may have met at the academy orientation?" 

A deadpan stare was the only response. Just as the boy was about to make another attempt at socializing, Gehrman decided to interrupt with something actually important. "How long was I asleep?"

"Uh, well you slept for the rest of that night, then through the next day, and then the next night. The sun just rose a little while ago."

"Shit." Gehrman needed to find actual water, he would die of thirst soon. Eating the Flesh Reavers had supplied him with nutrients (no matter how dubious they were), but their blood would not act as a substitute for water. 

He quickly started to check the state of his body, which was an absolute wreck. Even with all of that sleep, he seemed to not have recovered to anywhere near his prime. He needed rest, preferably somewhere safe and secluded. 

Grunting, Gehrman stood up taking in the landscape. The vast forest of red coral went as far as the eye could see. It truly looked and felt like hell. 

"Does that black water come every night?" Gehrman asked. This would be the worst-case scenario, as Gehrman did not have much of any experience fighting on or in the water. 

…However, he did remember fighting in a village off the coast of the sea. A cursed village, or rather a hamlet. Strangely, he couldn't pinpoint the exact reason he had been there. His memories surrounding the fishing hamlet were foggy, every time he tried to focus on them the details slipped away. 

Before he could delve in deeper into this hopeless thought process, the boy responded. "Every night," he sighed and his tone became grim. "That water, along with a great number of Nightmare Creatures that we can't hope to face. Even if we were Masters I doubt we could put up much of a fight against those who live in these waters."

This struck a deep chord in Gehrman. He was a confident hunter, and had the mindset that nothing was unkillable as long as you had the will and patience to learn everything about the prey. However, he was starting to realize that some things were simply out of his reach for the moment. 

The "Masters" that the boy referred to were humans who had reached the third level in Ascension. It was a colloquial term of honor. When meeting someone who had passed their First Nightmare, managed to find a gate out of the Dream Realm and become Awakened, and then also pass their Second Nightmare they would be granted the title of "Master" by humans and be called "Ascended" by the Spell. 

All of these different titles were quite confusing to Gehrman, so he ordered them into numbers. At the moment, Gehrman was at level 1. Given his skill and talent he could defeat enemies at level 1 and 2. Fallen creatures, like the Blood Starved Beast, would be at level 3, along with Ascended humans. The creatures who dwelled in the depths were at least level 4. Needless to say, with the gaps between levels growing exponentially, the only choice was to avoid any conflict. 

"Well, isn't this just the absolute worst," Gehrman collapsed back to the ground. Despite himself, he found himself gnashing his teeth together, the anxiety and pressure of the situation building upon the nascent madness within him. 

"Yes, it's not an ideal situation to be in," The boy agreed. "Even still we must persevere. I'm glad you were able to make it up here, no one survives in the Dream Realm alone after all."

Gehrman couldn't help but glance at him, confused about his demeanor. The kindness and warmth he emitted was generally off-putting, but worse was the fact that he seemed to remain confident. It both intrigued and disturbed Gehrman. Either way, he couldn't argue with his logic. 

"We've never met before. I only just finished my First Nightmare and was then immediately sent here." It was not technically a lie, but Gehrman felt it prudent to keep the fact that his physical body was dead a secret. Otherwise it might be easier for people to convince themselves it was okay killing him. Gehrman couldn't imagine a scenario in which humans would turn on each other while living in a hell like this, but he was certain it would be an eventuality. Both his experience in Yharnam and in the city where the boy grew up told him this was true. Gehrman may have been violent and bloodthirsty, but he didn't care for hurting other humans. 

However, he doubted the same could be said for the boy that now stretched out his hand in greeting. 

"I am sorry to hear that, but now that we're together I'll make sure to help you get through this." He had a bright smile on his face as Gehrman reached out and shook his hand. "I am Caster, of the Han Li clan. It is a pleasure to meet you."

It took a great amount of effort, but he pushed aside the snide remark that came to mind and introduced himself as well. "Gehrman," he responded with no pleasantries.

He would not exchange pleasantries with anyone like Caster Han Li. After all, there was nothing pleasant about meeting another killer.