Bloodborne 81 Sitting Atop A Pile Of Corpses

Advancing to the middle of the nave would also mean a fast death. The more he thought about it, the more time he was losing as every beast in the place was getting closer to him. He decided to rely on his newly learned fighting skills and on the enhanced properties the blood ministration had offered him.

He ran towards the first group of enemies that had spotted him and began fighting them. While he attacked two at a time, taking advantage of the length of his elongated cleaver, three more came at him. He didn't know how he managed to dodge those attacks or how his body moved to strike his enemies down.

It was as if he was an external observer, watching over his body as it moved by itself. His weapon had also become deadlier, the more enemies he killed, the less time it took him to finish off the others. He would kill two in one strike and immediately duck to avoid some jumping beast patient then jump to the side to avoid the charging gigantic female beasts.

It was a chaotic situation and he was in the middle of it. Everyone wanted a piece of him and they charged at him at the same time. His only focus was to survive this fight, and so the whole situation seemed hazy to him and seemed to go on slow motion. He dodged and attacked and jumped. Blood filled his body and even his nostrils. All he could see was red; all he could feel around him was death and agony. The more he killed, the less he felt human. It felt like a ma.s.sacre, was he too good for these poor creatures? Was that the feared power of the hunters? Or was there something else to it, something more terrifying?

As these thoughts crossed his mind he felt his feet depart the floor as a powerful blow from one of the giant female beasts. .h.i.t him right in the chest. He landed on top of a pile of corpses and, with difficulty, managed to regain his footing.

His body was tired but he knew that he had to keep going. Falling to these enemies would mean going back to the start and he couldn't take the risk of doing another run through the streets of Old Yharnam while the gun chased him. Perhaps that was the reason why the first horde of beast patients in the square didn't chase after him. They relied on the beasts in the cathedral to finish him off.

He wished he could find another lantern that would save him all the trouble. 'No, my mind is getting weaker. I can't let these thoughts cross my mind.' He had disposed of more than half of the enemies. His mind had been in a trance, focused only on one task. It was like climbing a mountain, your body feels tired and you focus only on your steps in order to forget the pain and reach your objective.

There were three giant female beasts amidst the remaining crowd. Many male patients were making their way towards the pile of corpses on top of which Surgit stood. The second round of fighting was about to begin.

Surgit jumped towards one of the female giants and hit her head with his cleaver as he flipped around in the air. He then landed in front of the other monsters. Surgit swiftly disposed of two male beasts and turned to face the giant.

She held her hands together and slammed the ground with her fists. Surgit read through the attack. He dodged in advance and pushed a male beast towards the trajectory of the attack. The poor beast died instantly to the blow and the female giant got enraged.

The other two closed in and joined the battle. He danced around their attacks and got himself out of trouble. He was aiming for the smaller enemies, trying to thin the crowd. He ran for the ones that stood the farthest from the giant foes. He had killed six of them before the others caught on. He jumped again and hit the same giant in the head, in the same fashion. Wearing them down was a good plan. If he could get tired, it should be the same for the others.

The fight had been going on for a long time and Surgit wondered if it would ever finish. After some more jumping around and dodging attacks, he was finally left alone with the three female patients.

The closest one to him ran his way in an attempt to grab him. Surgit shot her in the chest before she could get her hands on him. The stagger that followed allowed him to perform a visceral attack and kill her on the spot.

One of the remaining foes was badly hit in the head. Surgit had repeatedly swung at her thick head with his cleaver. All that was left was to bring her down to the ground. As the healthier one dashed towards him and attacked with her claws, Surgit jumped over her and used her back as a platform to jump from.

He leapt towards the weaker one. He kicked her in the knee, putting all his bodyweight and momentum behind the attack and broke her leg. She fell down, screaming painfully. Surgit finished her by cutting her head in three powerful and b.l.o.o.d.y swings. It wasn't a pretty execution.

He then turned toward the standing one and baited her attack. As soon as she swung at him, he shot her twice in the chest, causing her to stagger and finished her with another visceral attack.

He sat down on top of his last victim, catching his breath. Despite the difficulty of the fight, he felt bad for all these poor creatures. He took his time to catch his breath and stood back up.

He walked towards the altar where he had seen the shiny object before and inspected it. It was a copper bowl filled with blood. The blood was surprisingly still in liquid form and seemed strange. He inspected it with his insight, hoping to find some more information. 'Ritual Blood: one of the basic ingredients used to satiate a holy chalice is this incoagulable blood. When all is melted in blood, all is reborn.' The knowledge that flowed into his mind stopped and Surgit opened his eyes again.

He remembered Gehrman speaking about a holy chalice and realized that this kind of blood could come in handy later on. He left it in place and retraced his steps. He had a score to settle with the Gatling gun wielder and he wasn't about to leave him wandering around. He promised himself not to leave any danger loom around as long as his heart could still beat.