The doll was taller than Francis and had incomparable beauty. She looked alive although her hands were clearly mechanical and not human. ‘Things are getting even stranger in this place.’ He looked at the house behind the doll and turned to ask her: “What are the echoes of blood?” The doll tilted her head to the side as a sign of puzzlement then answered:

“As you hunt beasts, you gather their echoes within you. Come to me, and I will channel them into more strength for you.”

“And how do I know that I have these echoes?”

“Use your insight good hunter. You can see me, can you not?”

‘Ah so you must be another extraordinary thing that we can see only while having insight?’ Francis closed his eyes and saw that he had no echoes at all.

“How come I have no echoes while I’m sure that I have slayed so many enemies before landing in here?” he asked. He was confused.

“If you have died before arriving here, then the one who had killed you must have collected them in your stead. Kill them, and you’ll retrieve your echoes.”

“And how do I leave this place in order to do so? There doesn’t seem to be a way out of here!” Francis was even angrier at the hunter. Not only did he backstab him, he also robbed him of his hard earned rewards.

“Speak to the messenger by the fountain bath. He will provide you with a way out. But beware, if you die again on your way to retrieve your echoes, you will lose them forever.” The doll pointed him to a fountain in the distance, next to the back door of the wooden house.

Francis walked towards the fountain. A black liquid, akin to stale water, filled it. The liquid soon started to boil and from underneath it appeared a small white creature with only an open mouth on its face. It pointed its long pointy fingers towards Francis and moaned. “The doll told me that you can send me out of here.” The messenger disappeared again under the black liquid and remerged, holding a lamp which had a blue flame in it.

Francis instantly felt drawn towards it and saw the big building in which the retired hunter lived. What looked like a small picture, a replica of the place, soon became bigger and more real. Seconds later, Francis found himself standing in front of the building, back in Hemwick. He blinked his eyes, like someone who felt dizzy and tried to come back to his senses. Opposite Francis, he saw a blue lamp, dangling from a small wooden pole with miniature bells on top. ‘So the dream is real after all. Does this mean that I’m impervious to death? I guess I’ll find out soon.’ He climbed the wall and went through the balcony.

The hunter was sitting on a chair, holding his cane and awaiting Francis’ return. “Welcome back!” he said with a smile on his face. “So, is the old man still there?” Francis was enraged by the nonchalance the hunter dealt with him, as if he were but an insignificant insect. He drew his sword and walked towards him ready to cut him in pieces.

The retired hunter however didn’t move. He only spoke in a threatening tone: “I must warn you old man. Although you’re a hunter and you have immense strength, I too am a hunter. And I am far stronger than you. I advise you to sit down and have an intelligent conversation about what happened.”

Francis stopped and looked the man in the eyes. He didn’t doubt his strength but the anger and shame he felt for being humiliated before urged him to attack and deal with the consequences later on. The retired hunter sensed this and went on. “Listen, I know you’re angry at what I did. But if you think about it, I made you discover the dream. Thanks to that, you’ll become stronger.”

“Moreover, I’ll offer you a deal. I hold your echoes. You can retrieve them by killing me. But if I kill you before that, you’ll lose everything. What’s more, I hold even more echoes that could help you become a strong fighter. But how are you going to go about it, with strength, skill or bloodtinge?”

“And judging from the weapon you hold, bloodtinge is your best bet. But you don’t know anything about that, do you? I’ll train you, and in exchange you’ll kill me in an exciting fight. That’s the way I want to go.” After the hunter’s monologue, Francis sheathed his katana and sat down.

“Alright,” he said “tell me about the skills I can fortify to make myself a better hunter.”

“I’ll teach you how to become a better fighter. You’ll choose your own path as a hunter afterwards. I couldn’t care less about what you want to do with your life.”

“Why do you want to die then? And why did you retire?”

“I didn’t choose to retire. It rather chose me, or in other words, it just happened. You’ll understand it one day. So tell me, is the old man still in charge?”

“I was decided to come back here and kill you that I didn’t even look for that old man of yours.”

“This means that he didn’t choose to show himself to you. He’s a sneaky old bastard. I guess we can start your training then.”

*****

Surgit was still looking at the chalice he had earned after defeating the Blood Starved Best. Pthumeru Chalice: ritual chalice found in the church of the good chalice. ‘So this is what the old man spoke about.’ Surgit knew what to do next. He had to go to the dream and speak to Gehrman, if he was around, in order to know what to do with the item he had just found. A lamp had appeared in the church right after he had killed the blood starved beast with the help of Alfred.

He inspected the church further and found a corpse in a corner, far behind the church’s altar. On inspecting its belongings, Surgit found ten antidote pills. ‘Thanks for nothing. This could’ve been useful before.’ He stored the pills in his pocket and headed to the lamp. He lit it and went to the hunter’s dream.

Back at the dream, Surgit decided to put some order in his belongings and think about what to do next. He got inside the workshop and sat down on a chair in front of a desk. Gehrman was sleeping opposite the fireplace and Surgit didn’t try to wake him up.

He was planning on doing so once he organized himself. As of that moment, he managed to get his hands on the chalice that Gehrman had spoken of before. He still didn’t know what to do with it. All he knew was that it was useful. From the note he had seen in the dream and the conversation with Francis, the new hunter, Paleblood is the key to leaving Yharnam.

He had to find a way to reach Byrgenwerth and Alfred may be able to help him regarding this matter. He seemed to have some knowledge regarding the healing church, he must have some information regarding the location of the greatest academy mankind had ever seen, or so the tales say.

He inspected some of the books that were thrown in a disorderly manner on top of the desk. They were too old and none of them was legible anymore. Among the rubble, he managed to snatch an empty notebook. He fumbled in the drawers until he found some ink and a pen and started scribbling notes.

Since his arrival he had observed many events and heard many tales about Yharnam and blood healing. From the beasts he had to fight to the statues he had seen in Old and Central Yharnam, he knew that he had to take notes in order to keep track of all the information he was subjected to.

He needed to observe Yharnam closely. He hoped that by gathering enough information about the city he was thrown into, he would have an easier time remembering the events which unfolded before. By understanding, he could learn more about the hunters and the beasts, which would make slaying them easier. He knew he had to adapt to the way this city forced him to live. Not only did he have to survive, but he also had to find a way to access Paleblood and escape this nightmare.

He also knew that information was the key to survival in Yharnam. The more you know, the more chances you have of surviving. And so he wrote, about the people he met and the beasts he fought...