(Dark Souls Black Knight X Rwby) Black Knight in Remnant

Chapter 1 The Age of Fire No More

He was just now passing the gates of the kiln, or as some including himself knew them, the End Gates. None that would come from it could be living. It looked ominous, a stairway leading to gates surrounded by white light with no substance. Truly a gate akin to one of judgment, one you would meet at your end or just before, how fitting... After a moment, he turned away from the gate, taking the steps up. As the corrupted knight did, there was a lone phantom of another knight of Lordran that had been charred black and distorted, yet standing in his path. He was distracted by even more poor knights striding behind me with shaking of plate mail filling my ears. The armored man turned to meet them, they walked through him as if they were not there. Out of instinct, he looked back to the one that stood, now an army that lined the steps, their armor silver as it was meant to be. Suddenly it had gone silent, not a sound had been heard, not a sound was made. It felt as if my sense of sound was muffled completely.

Forms of armored knights with attention only to me stood. Not a single gap between all of them. With a loud thunderous shriek, his perfect vision distorted. Silver turned to black, holy armor turned demonic. Darkness flowed from them to me, he felt their sorrow and regrets, he felt their joys and wonders. It hurt, he could barely stand, his armor rattled in his attempt to stay my body. Alas, his strong knees buckled, a clash of metal against stone. His vision became blurry as his sturdy head neared a corner.

He was standing on the steps, nothing else on them aside from himself. He feels different, but it is a must that he leave this place. He walks up the steps, in anguish at my recent experience. He is then greeted not by the lord vessel, nor its post. Though is instead met with a forest of vast green. The likes of such green were bright, not even Lordran contained such vibrant colors that differed from gold and marble. No end in sight, no options are available to him, he must find them. The former Lordran shadow takes his stride through slowly, greatsword and shield in hand as if it was part of his very flesh and only assurance in this unsure place.

After only a few lengths of time, I am met with the sight of an enemy. It is one clad in plate mail, black iron armor on its frame. A blade once wielded by a witch of Izalith, one the witch Quaelagg used to defend her sister. I am burdened by sadness at the sight of it, a reminder of so many that had met their own fates. His pyromancy at the ready, his stance is one of observation. It is as if I look to him as but a peasant shouting to him with contempt. He is not taking me seriously. His flame in hand is ignited, yet he does not raise his sword. Surely this bastard knows after cutting down the lord Gwyn, that such a sword is capable of cutting steel?

It's as if my mind works itself to keep thoughts fresh to make for the lack of thinking I had done when I had first been scarred by the fire. This is a time for aggression this is not the time for thought on such a worthless pygmy. His fight for the flame the first time was only an unintelligent fight of only novice swordsmanship. With a charge, I bashed the blunt of my shield to him. After a feeling of hitting something, I swung my sword below my point of impact. It seems almost impossible, yet a flaming sword received the blow. How can such a feeble one have taken a blow, then recovered to attempt a block in time? He must've been lucky to take the blow with his armor, no, not the time for such thought.

I backstepped a short distance, then rushed forward with an overhead swing with intent to force my way through his body... This is no form of a knightly pedigree, nor is it that of one who has spent their life fighting for the better part of it. I truly have forgotten how to act as I once did, I've undersold my opponent as I find out the hard way. I'm met with a strong kick to my face only empowered by my own arrogant charge. Even as my head went back, my blade went down only to be deflected down his own blade. His skill exceeded what I had seen when he had sought the First Flame. This was not the same foolish carrier of the dark soul I had once seen.