Chapter Text
His first sight opens to see a dream. How he knows, well that’s just how dreams work isn’t it? There is no reason, it just is. And just like dream knowledge, Yoo Joonghyuk knows he’s not alone, even if there’s not a person in sight.
Resting against the vine infested wall is a human sized doll, and its lifeless eyes bores itself into his mind. He finds that he doesn’t really mind it. Yoo Joonghyuk stands right in front of the doll and embeds the dark ebony hair and starry lifeless eyes into his memory. It’s when he places a soft touch against its stone hands that he thinks maybe this isn’t a doll at all, but surely a corpse this cold couldn’t possibly be so lovely.
A slight fog enshrouds the surrounding lush forest, kissing the edges of whatever space he is in, and he turns his attention to the gothic building behind the doll-like corpse. Inside are books in a language he can’t read and tools he has no immediate use for.
Back outside, he eyes the headstones that align the enclosed walls of the dreamscape. Most, if not all, are unmarked except for one.
Yharnam .
That makes him pause. There’s a haze over his mind that slowly lifts in pieces. He remembers a memory, one that he is sure isn’t provided from the dream.
He was in Central Yharnam, in a sickroom searching for a cure for ashen blood that ailed his sister. He remembers traveling with some companions, Han Sooyoung and a man. There was a promise made together in exchange for healing blood: end the atrocities of the Healing Church.
It’s strange, he can’t recall the man’s name, face, or anything really. Trying to force himself to grasp at threads of a memory made his head pound and his chest ache, so he turned his attention back to the headstone.
He places a hand on the polished stone, and it pulsates and pulls. He closes his eyes and lets his thoughts go free, thinking about the sickroom until he can feel his skin tingle.
When he opens his eyes next, Yoo Joonghyuk was back in the waking world.
---
It’s dark when he sits up from the gurney, and when he slides off, he fights to still his vision and the slight tremor that buckles his knees. He was alone in the room, doors closed off, and the only thing notable was a piece of paper telling him what to do.
Seek Paleblood to transcend the Dream.
Paleblood, that is something he does not know, but the uses of blood aren’t unfamiliar to him. Blood ministering used to be reveled as much as the Healing Church, but the healing power of blood turned out to have an open secret. While it has the ability to cure ailments, it corrupts, twisting and turning any normal man to beast. It was the source of the Scourge Beast Plague.
But Yoo Joonghyuk was no longer a normal man, and as a newly christened hunter, he can stave off the intoxication of blood to utilize its healing to hunt. Yharham has plenty of prey, and hunters should be hunting.
He opens the doors and descends the steps in even strides before the distinct scent of blood invaded his senses. There’s a wet guttal growl and the sounds of something tearing. When he reaches the bottom of the staircase, he pauses as he witnesses a wolfish creature, enlarged and contorted with human-like limbs, gorge itself on a corpse.
There’s no way to leave without alerting the beast as it’s meal was directly in front of the path to the outside. He didn’t think he’d start his hunt so soon, especially not barehanded, and he looks around for anything of use. There’s nothing.
Looking closely, he can actually see that the beast is littered in claw marks, some deep enough he swears he could see bone. But as the beast eats, the wounds start to heal, and he curses. There’s no other choice but to engage now, and seeing as how the medical stands are too flimsy to do any damage, he charges with his fists.
It should have been effective, with the beast distracted with its meal and him having the advantage of surprise, and yet a punch at his full strength was as if he had pinched it instead. The beast roars and swipes an arm at him. He is sent flying to the other side of the room. Glass and wood crumpling under the force.
He grits his teeth. There were probably fractures along his ribs, but there wasn’t a second to breathe before the fangs and claws descended. He rolled underneath the wide swinging arm and punched the beast again before distancing himself. There seemed to be little effect aside from a light flinch.
He can see it winding up for a lunge and dodges to the left, giving the beast a kick against its open wounds. It yelps but quickly follows up with a sharp nail. He wasn’t fast enough to dodge that and earned a large gash on his arm.
After some gashes, he found the rhythm — bite, dodge, punch, claw, dodge, punch, fang, dodge… — but his entire being was screaming as the fight prolonged itself.
The pounding in his chest matched the burning in his legs. Tears from fang and talon littered his skin and the blood stained the creaking floor. The room fared no better, broken glass and wood littered the floors, and despite everything, the beast did not seem affected in the slightest.
Fatigue of his body betrayed the hyper clarity of his mind, and his knees buckled. That momentary lapse was enough for the beast to sink its fangs around his neck.
When Yoo Joonghyuk wakes up, it’s to see the dream.
---
What a sick joke this must be, he thinks as he eyes the new gravestone, engraved with 1 . It’s not the only thing in the dreamscape that’s changed.
Beside the corpse are emancipated little figures protruding from the floor, their bony fingers holding up a sword. The corpse itself doesn’t look like it has moved, but it’s lifeless eyes somehow mock him and he has to knock down the itch to throttle it. A little note lies in its hands.
A gift. You’ll need more than your hands.
From whom, it doesn’t say, but the note is handwritten and irritating. He’s still alone from what he can sense, aside from the corpse and little ones in front of him, and from the message shows that the person has been watching.
Nosy. He can’t help the twitch of his hand as he fights another urge to shake the corpse senseless. Whoever it could be and their reasons for watching and helping are left a mystery. And really, was there any other choice but to accept the gift?
There was little reason to be humble, not if the town was filled with beasts like that, and whether this would disappear like a dream or become a shackle remains to be foreseen. The hilt in his hands is a familiar thing, and he watches as the bony things disintegrate into the floor.
He heads back to the Yharnam headstone and turns to look back at the doll. He stares at it the entire time, even while the tingling of his skin overtakes him. The lifeless eyes almost have a shine in them.
He doesn’t think it’ll be the last time he sees this dream.
---
The scent of blood and disinfectant fill his senses, and he wakes back in the sick room. Nothing has seemed to change, and he wonders how much time has passed. It’s when he sits up and feels the blade resting against his thigh that he realizes that the dreamscape he’s been seeing might not really be a dream. There’s not much he can do with that thought alone, and it’s unlikely he’ll find the answers if he stays, so he starts making his way down familiar steps.
He had expected to see the room to be decimated from his earlier encounter, so when the room appears to be unbroken and the same wolf beast hungrily devouring the same corpse, it adds to his troubles.
He wonders if he dies again, will everything simply repeat itself? But the sword resting on his leg reassures him otherwise, and he draws the blade.
It was a simple feat to read and replay the pattern of their last battle. But this time, he kills the beast with ease. He gets coated in blood for his efforts and feels something within him become fulfilled as the beast falls into a breathless slumber. Its body disintegrates and in its place, are two vials of blood and some sort of ore.
He pockets his spoils before taking the time to inspect for anything that may be of use. There are corpses scattered throughout the room, and while the stench of rotting corpses wasn’t pleasant-he can’t help but compare them to the doll from his dreams-he drowns it out in favor of looting. It’s a successful burglary, and he ends with a couple more vials of blood and some molotov cocktails.
There’s no other resistance he faces, and when he leaves the building, he recognizes the closed gates of Central Yharnam. The setting sun colors the sky into a reddish hue, but the beginnings of night have started to creep along the skylines. In the distance, he can hear the chimes of a tolling bell.
From a glance, he can tell that there would be no amount of pushing would budge the gate open. He’ll have to find another way in.
Around the walls and buildings that supported the gate, he notices a lever protected by what looks to be a townsfolk wielding a torch and heavy axe dragged along the floor. It’s not long before the man notices his presence and runs towards him screaming.
“You are not wanted here!”
It’s simple to dodge the wide swing of an axe aimed at his head. He only needs to swing once for the man to fall dead.
Was he so deranged that he could not tell they were both human? Or was it the townsfolk’ immediate reaction to be hostile?
A ladder fell once the lever was pulled. Climbing up the rungs, he hears an inhuman shriek echoing from the distance. There’s nothing he can see, but he can feel a chill settling in his bones.
At the top, he makes his way into an area with two paths, one closed by a gate and the other into an alleyway. In the middle was a wall with a lit window, a moving shadow could be seen. He walks towards it.
“Oh, you must be a hunter. And, not from around here either, it seems,” The woman’s voice is soft and soothing. “I am Yoo Sangah.”
He doesn’t give her his name, and she doesn’t seem bothered at all.
“You must have had quite a time. Yharnam has a special way of treating guests,” Her tone suggests she doesn’t harbor the same intentions of her neighbors. But now that he’s confirmed that the town is mad itself, he makes note to be wary. “I’m willing to help, if there’s anything that can be done.”
“What can you tell me about Paleblood?” He should take her words with a grain of salt, but why waste an opportunity for answers from one who gave so freely?
There’s a pause. “I have never heard of it. But if it’s blood you’re interested in, then surely you know of the Healing Church.”
“That is why I am here.”
“Of course,” She hums in amusement. “Across the valley to the East of Yharnam lies the town of the Healing Church, known as the Cathedral Ward. And deep within the Cathedral Ward is said to be the birthplace of the Healing Church’s special blood. With the hunt going on tonight, you may be able to get inside.”
“The hunt?”
“The men patrolling the streets, the huntsmen. They, like you, are hunting beasts that have risen, the main difference between you two is that they are already infected with the Scourge. It’ll be best for you to leave to the Great Bridge now while the night is still young.”
He looks towards the Great Bridge on the East and remembers the chilling screech. This will be an eventful night.
---
Yoo Joonghyuk awakens back in the dreamscape, and like all the other times, not by choice.
He had underestimated the sheer numbers of huntsmen, and the constant barrage of bullets and pitchforks had left his blood vials empty. A sizable group of huntsmen were surrounding a bonfire, and some even hid behind walls waiting to ambush. The echo of an axe rammed down his spine still aches.
A new gravestone, a 2 engraved in the middle, laughs at him along with the upturned lips of the doll-like corpse. At least the little ones don’t seem to mock him, though he’s not sure if them comforting him is any better. They hold a gun this time, and there’s a new note in the hands of the corpse.
Even ants can fell a giant. You should live longer if you take this.
He can’t help his face from contorting in annoyance, but with no one there to take his frustrations, he grabs the gun and examines it.
Rather than dealing damage, the gun’s spray shows that it’s better for stunning, and rather than iron, the bullets seem to be made out of blood. He decides to test the reload by forcing his fist closed, having his nails draw blood from his palms and having his bloodied hand hold the grip. It does the trick, and the gun is again fully loaded.
It makes him swear at his thoughtless use of blood before. This time he will do better, and as long as he has blood, he should be fine.
He gives the little ones a nod of thanks before they completely dissipate. A hand on the headstone, he thinks of Central Yharnam.
“I’m off.”
Of course his pleasantry goes unanswered, but before his consciousness fully subsided, he thought he could see the eye sparkle. Hopefully, it would take him longer to return.