Gehrman looked down at the drop below him. He suspected that he could survive a fall from 100 meters in the air. But Cainhurst Castle was an entirely different beast. It reached about 500 meters. And all 500 meters of building had been utterly destroyed by Logarius's attack.
It sent chills down his spine.
Pulling a little blood from his vein, he formed a hook and started to climb down.
He had long been able to make his blood solid (most noticeably when making claws or gauntlets) but the revelation that he could manipulate blood on a molecular level changed things.
Before, he had simply been willing to hold firm, never truly understanding the changes that he was making happen.
It was a matter of intuition and natural ability.
This type of power was not dissimilar to Palebloods innate ability to breach dreams and invoke beasthood. The Great One didn't seem to be using intense calculations to break through multiple dimensions, instead it simply bent them using its will.
Of course, Great Ones were unknowable. Their thoughts weren't something humans could comprehend.
This was simply the impression Gehrman got after being rebirthed several times. It felt too easy to be something that required mental effort to accomplish.
That being said, mental effort was certainly valuable. If Gehrman could grasp molecular blood manipulation he could create more intricate blood weapons and make his current arsenal even sharper.
But the main thing he wanted was the ability to control bloodflame. After all, his Aspect ability would only be potent so long as the blood was warm. If he could figure out how to create a sustainable bloodflame, his creations could be perpetual.
However, he wouldn't be able to accomplish this in the current Nightmare.
He was able to grasp the feel of the concept thanks to the Vilebloods, but now he suspected he would need actual science (more than what Dorian remembered from textbooks) in order to figure it out.
At that moment, something blinded Gehrman. He was terrified that Logarius had already returned, or maybe the Crow was already upon him. But neither was the case.
The sun suddenly broke over the horizon, sending rays of warm light onto Castle Cainhurst.
In Yharnam's original history, the complete slaughter of the Vilebloods was finished by this point, and Annalise had been sealed.
Now though, there were not enough Executioners to go out and slaughter the villages and hamlets of Cainhurst. At the same time, a few Vileblood Knights had reached their own villages and protected them from oncoming beasts.
In other words…Cainhurst had lived to see another day.
A dangerously warm feeling filled Gehrman.
It was pride.
Not the sinful kind that acted akin to arrogance, but instead the pride of having done a good deed.
"That's not good…I might get into a habit of helping people if this keeps up."
Despite his words, Gehrman smiled. It was the innocent smile of a boy that looked very odd on the middle-aged man's face.
But the smile quickly faded when he sensed two life forms at the bottom.
And one was moving away quickly.
Gehrman unhooked from the wall and allowed the blood to travel back into his veins. He fell the rest of the way. Near the bottom, he kicked off the side of the wall and fell into a roll.
It was not as graceful as he'd hoped, but he survived the landing with little injury.
He may have been of the 1st Rank, but he was also a Devil and in an extraordinary body. His survivability far surpassed what any Sleeper, or even any Awakened should be able to reach.
As he got to his feet, he took in a ghastly sight that made him grimace.
On the floor, the Bloody Crow of Cainhurst lay a mangled mess. A chunk of his torso was missing, broken ribs and organs were exposed, and his right arm was practically gone, only a small piece of bone kept his forearm tethered to his elbow. His mane of platinum white hair was cut at an odd angle, the hairs were torn from his head by pure force and it made him look like a corpse.
And yet, he was breathing.
Gehrman thought of killing him right then and there, but in this position he felt he could indulge himself.
The Crow couldn't run away, which meant that Gehrman could easily find out who was underneath that mask.
Before that though, he turned to the limping figure who was making a halting route towards the interior of the castle.
He too, suffered grievous injuries.
But the right-hand of Logarius lived.
It appeared that during the final blow, he had used his cannon to both blast the Crow and also throw himself from the rooftop.
Gehrman surmised this from the wound on his face. The Gold Ardeo had half melted, revealing the young man's scarred face. The burn marks were undoubtedly from a fiery explosion. Logarius used no such thing, so it had to come from the man's signature cannon.
Apart from the face, all of his wounds seemed to be internal. Though he wasn't nearly as badly hurt as the Crow, he was still near death's door.
I need the last Memory.
Gehrman brought his blade back and Tricked it into a scythe. A screeching pain ran through his limbs as he forced them to build up strength they didn't have.
He burst forward, and the long scythe cut into the back of the limping man.
Surprisingly, the cut was not clean.
Despite the Executioner not having a shirt, he was a different breed from all the other Ascended.
Still, the scythe was buried in the man's back. Gehrman pushed his weight forward, willing the blade to go deeper.
The Executioner let out a mad yell and swung at him while turning around. He moved with such force that the scythe was wrenched from his hands. The man's muscles contracted and he kept the blade in his back.
His screaming did not stop, and he took a step to charge Gehrman, but he was already upon him.
Instead of attacking with a weapon, he simply pushed the Executioner against the nearest wall.
The blade stuck in his back was pushed by the flat surface, digging deeper into him and penetrating his heart.
His mad wails halted for but a moment before turning into sobs.
The last Executioner was crying. Not out of sadness, but simply because he was in pain. It was an incredibly human way to die.
Gehrman's eyes glazed over as he heard the Spell.
But again, he did not receive a Memory.
His breathing became ragged and his eyes felt heavy. Soon, his face became wet with his own tears.
"What am I doing?"
Where did the notion that he had to get all of the Sin Memories come from? The Nightmare was practically over. All he had to do was kill the Crow and wait until Logarius finished sealing Annalise.
Why had he felt so good about himself a moment ago…when he had killed several humans that very night.
He could argue to himself that they were all sinners. They had all done bad things.
But were they truly so evil they deserved to die?
Some of them were caught up in the bloodlust, their minds warped by Logarius's fanaticism. Did falling prey to that man's words make them worthy of death?
Why…do I feel so good about myself?
He grabbed his pounding skull. The answer was obvious. Bliss had not just infected him from the blood he had taken throughout the journey, but had been lingering in him for a long, long time. Making him comfortable, unassuming, and dangerous.
Was it since Ebriteas? Did I never truly recover from that?
He tore a tuft of hair from his head, the pain doing little to clear his mind. But before he could do even more, a voice cut through the compounding madness.
"You're not Gehrman…are you?" The rattling, cold question came from behind him. Gehrman froze in his tracks and turned to see the pointed helmet of the Cainhurst Armor facing him.
Somehow the Crow was talking.
"I took his name. I took his memories. I might as well be him," Gehrman said. He thought of no lies to make it seem like he was sane. He couldn't be bothered.
"You're not," the Crow said in a clipped voice. "Gehrman was much stronger than you. He was much more ruthless than you. And most importantly, he couldn't come back from the dead like you."
Gehrman regarded the man with silence. The urge to walk over and finish him off grew stronger. For some reason, the man's words irked him.
Restraining himself, he walked over to where the Crow lay and simply sat down in front of him. A couple of meters distance between them just in case he tried to throw something.
"You're not a Vileblood. You're not from Cainhurst. And you are still treated like a god by them, why?"
If the Crow was surprised by Gehrman's words he did not show it. Instead, he simply stayed silent.
After a while, the Crow asked his own question instead.
"Are you going to kill me?"
"Yes."
"Quickly or slowly?"
Gehrman thought about this for a while. He felt the urge to be as cruel as possible. But he was unsure if this was just another byproduct of the madness. Therefore, he chose mercy.
"Quickly. You are already dying slowly now aren't you? No need for me to make it any longer."
At Gehrman's words, the iron helmet tilted to the side. The Crow seemed to be analyzing him.
"How did you come back from the dead? No amount of Blood could have saved you."
"If I told you, you wouldn't believe me."
"I'd like to hear it anyway."
"Answer one of my questions first."
The rapid fire responses left both parties with quickened heart rates. Both of them had a good amount of malice toward the other, but they were also both fascinated.
"I'll tell you something different. I'll tell you why I killed you, how about that?" The Crow's voice strained by the end of his question. The dryness of it was choking him.
"Fine," Gehrman waved his hand dismissively. In truth, this was also something he desired to know.
"When I saw you swear the Corruption Oath, I was the only one who recognized you as the First Hunter. I didn't say anything because I thought you had seen sense and sided with Cainhurst. But the entire time, I was waiting for you to slip up. And sure enough you met with Caryll. You spoke in riddles, but I could parse out the information you passed between yourselves. I knew then you were nothing more than a spy. And so, I killed you."
Gehrman stared dumbly at the man.
It was a very logical sequence of events. But also incredibly infuriating.
"There was no code," Gehrman snarled. "We were just talking about actual mystical runes."
Now it was the Crow's turn to be struck dumb.
"...You really aren't Gehrman."
"No shit."
They sat in silence for a couple more moments. The sun grew slightly higher in the sky, and the shadows covering the Crow melted away. The silver helmet, gauntlets, and leggings shone with brilliant light.
Gehrman's eyes focused on them. And then they were drawn to the black crow feathers around his upper-half.
He sighed as he felt some pieces falling together. It was hard not to see it at this point.
Gehrman stood up and started speaking in a somber tone.
"You spoke of Caryll as if you knew her, you clearly have used some of the Blood to keep yourself alive, and you know who I am. You are a Hunter." Gehrman laid out all the facts before him. "Normally, a mad Hunter like you would be found and killed by our Hunter of Hunters. Someone as skilled as you surely caught his attention. And yet, you live. The reason is obvious."
Gehrman stalked forward. His boots made a quiet wet sound as he stepped into the puddle of blood that surrounded the Crow.
After making sure the man was making no movements, he stepped even closer.
"Because if the Hunter of Hunters makes a big deal out of you, then even more attention will be placed on the both of you. Someone who paid close attention would then notice the same white hair, ability, and build." Gehrman
Bringing his hands to the back of the Crows head he lifted it and took the helmet off.
"They would connect the dots like I have and found you out, Gairm."
The golden rays of morning now shone down on the familiar face of the Hunter of Hunters.
The Bloody Crow of Cainhurst cast his eyes aside at the mention of his name. He didn't seem ashamed to finally be revealed, but he certainly wasn't pleased to be found out in this manner.
"Well, it doesn't matter much at this point," he said. Gairm's voice was unmistakable without the warbling from the helmet. "Cainhurst has fallen. The peaceful future of this world has crumbled and the apocalypse is now certain. If I get out of here alive, all I would do is abandon the Crow and start training a new Hunter of Hunters.
While this did sound implausible given the context, the fact that he had lived to Johann's time was proof that he had abandoned his activities, otherwise he wouldn't have lasted that long.
Now that I think about it…Eileen was old during that night. She's a teenager right now while Gairm is in his mid 30's or so…was he almost a hundred years old when he killed me all those times!?
The Blood was truly miraculous, and given Gairm's unique constitution and tolerance for the essence of the Great Ones, it stood to reason that he could indeed live that long.
Master Willem was well over 150 during Johann's night. Aging simply didn't mean that much when the Arcane and the Blood were involved.
Gehrman let out a depressed sigh, causing Gairm to turn his hawkish eyes back onto him.
"You never answered my question. How are you alive?"
"Because none of this is real. You, and everyone and everything else in this world is simply a fabrication. It's a dream of a being that surpasses Great Ones. And I am the product of a Great One. Something akin to their vassal. So even if I was completely disintegrated, I could still come back from the dead."
Gairm's face became increasingly mortified the more he listened. "That's…you're right I don't believe you." But even after saying that, his eyes became distant. He seemed to be searching for the truth within himself.
He couldn't have noticed any discrepancies. Nobody but Caryll could truly break free of the illusion. But perhaps he was able to imagine the dream as a concept.
"Right." Gehrman stood up and grabbed his scythe off his back. Flipping it over, he touched the blade to the pool of Transcendent blood he stood on. The Memory was not bound by the same limitation he was. It could gain strength from both human and Nightmare Creature blood.
The scythe glowed a deeper red and the air around it suddenly seemed thinner. The feeling of death that emanated from it was truly monstrous.
"Since I gave you the secret truth of reality, how about you answer my first question now," Gehrman paused for a moment. "Actually, let me guess."
He crouched down to be closer to the Hunter's face.
"You called Caryll by name despite only being hired by the Church recently. Though she is important due to her runes, none of my Hunters address her so casually. My guess is that you were a student at Byrgenwerth around the same time as her."
Gairm frowned a bit at this seemingly random tangent, but in his eyes, there was also a fear. A fear that his last secret would be revealed.
"Vilebloods, those who could manipulate their own blood, only started to pop up fifteen years ago. During that time, you were freshly graduated. Like everyone else on campus you were involved in analyzing findings from the newly uncovered Tombs below. The Blood had been discovered, and we had even found a few different strains of it. Despite Laurence's rather liberal use of the Blood, he did decree one strain to be too dangerous. That Forbidden Blood was eventually brought to Cainhurst by an unknown Brygenwerth scholar."
Gehrman stood up. From his higher vantage point, the bloodlust in Gairm's eyes came across all the more mad.
"The reason the Vilebloods treat you like a god is because you were one to them. You brought that Forbidden Blood to Cainhurst."
Gehrman couldn't help but grin. Gairm's reaction betrayed the truth. Every one of Gehrman's deductions was spot on. Which meant…
"You, Gairm, created the Vilebloods."