Trying to cure my writer's block with writing this.
This is a Bloodborne and a Rosario x Vampire Crossover.
Major spoilers for Rosario and lore speculation for Bloodborne lies ahead.
29th December 2018 - 100 Reads (thank you all for giving new book concept a read.)
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The Hunt was over.
Flora, the presence from the moon, the Great One of the Paleblood Moon, was slain by his hands.
The Hunter.
But before the Great One who conjured the Dream was slain, Gehrman, the First Hunter and his mentor, was also slain by his own hands, now he was freed from the Dream altogether now. Just as he wanted and desperately begged for all so long ago.
The battle itself, was a difficult one indeed, and one of the most sorrowful battles he had fought.
When he had first begun his hunt. The old hunter and his companion, brought him comfort. But the Hunter knew his mentor wanted freedom from the Dream. The old hunter himself however, wanted to free the Good Hunter from the Dream so he would not suffer the same fate as him.
With both sides wanting to free the other, they had no choice face each other in combat, blade against blade, will against will, mentor against student. And the student had surpassed the mentor.
It almost seemed like ages ago when Gehrman disappeared before him. The Hunter stood in a daze, caked in the blood of the moon presence, mourning for the loss of his only parental figure.
However, nature had other plans.
Immense pain soon overwhelmed him.
He felt his limbs begin to grow numb. One by one, first it begun with his hands, then his legs, then it crept all the way to his entire body.
It was the sign of evolution. The notes he found during his hunt in the School of Mensis showed clearly that the umbilical cords may be a catalyst for humanity to reach the status of godhood, proven when it allowed him to push back against the monstrosity that came from the paleblood moon. With the three umbilical cords consumed, along with the blood echoes of the many Great Ones he had slain, it was certainly a ripe time for him to become one himself.
But will he allow it to overcome him?
Or will be fight back?
But suddenly, the Hunter had other thoughts.
No.
No...
NO!
He would fight the fate chosen for him!
No longer will he concede to the natural order of the Great Ones!
Through sheer willpower alone, the Hunter managed halted his evolution to become a Great One. He fell on his knees and onto the field of flowers, groaning in pain. It took everything he had to stop the sudden change. And he blacked out.
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After a duration of time has passed, the Hunter re-awoke on the field of lilies, standing upright to examine himself. He has felt something changed within him, but for now he has halted his evolution.
The Hunter knew one day it will be inevitable that he will transcend. But it was not something that he had wanted now. With the knowledge and insight gained, the Hunter understood things that would normally be beyond the comprehension of mere mortals. Of the idea of the Gods, their culture, and many others.
Even the idea of humans transcending to their next stage of evolution.
But not even his insight would have allowed him to foresee the upcoming events that who occur in the near future, should it be truly the time for him to evolve.
That would mean he would also forsake his own humanity when he does.
The Hunter, covered by his leather mask which masked his expressions, pulled it down as allowed a sigh of relief to come out of his mouth.
With the Hunt over, and Gehrman no longer available to tie down the Dream, and the moon presence, slain by his own hands to manifest the Dream.
What was left for the Hunter?
With everything finished, what was left for him?
He had no prior memories before the blood transfusion which brought him to this mess in the first place.
The Hunter came to the grave conclusion that he will no longer have purpose.
"Good Hunter." a soothing voice called out. A voice that helped him throughout his journey, a voice that he'd grown to love, like a son to a mother.
The Hunter turned to the voice, facing its source, the Doll, Gehrman's only companion of the Dream. And he faced her with his sharp deep-blue iris.
"Your hunt is over now, Good Hunter. With the echos from Flora, you have transcended pass your human limitations."
Since the Doll spoke of it, the Hunter realised someone did indeed change of him. He stood taller than the Doll, when beforehand, he once was on a shorter stature. Perhaps this was the method of his body coping with the sudden surge in strength.
Clothing provided by the Dream adjusts itself to its occupant's ideal size, so it was understandable that the Hunter did not notice his sudden growth.
The Hunter nodded. From the wording of the Doll, he concluded that he was on the border of being human, and being a Great One.
He looked around the Dream. Curious of its still complete state, with Gehrman, as well as the great one from the moon, now named Flora, gone. The Dream should naturally disappear. Yet it does not.
The Doll, seemingly understanding his curiosity, answered. "It is your presence which now ties the Dream together, Good Hunter."
The Hunter nodded, with only himself and the Doll being the residents of the Dream. He was no doubt curious to see whether anything else had changed.
Everything seemed unchanged, the Workshop was still intact. The field of white lilies, where he and his former mentor fought, continued to blossom beautifully. And the gravestones were still intac--.
The Hunter paused in thought, glancing towards the slabs of stones, which still stood tall as he always knew them, yet they felt different. He made his way towards the Gravestones of Awakening, which allowed the Hunter to transport himself to the waking world from the Dream, facing the first Headstone which was designated for Yharnam.
Well, it was supposed, as the inscriptions for the various locations within Yharnam had appeared to be wiped clean, leaving but only a new name:
妖怪アカデミ
The Hunter was doubtless confused, after all, it was a language he did not recognise. But it intrigued him nonetheless. Out of impulse, he had decided to traverse to this new land whose name he could not read... is what he would have done. However, even with the new location on the headstone of awakening, there was not a single location inscribed for him to awaken as he had no ties to this new location. He would have to somehow return to the waking world without the headstone of awakening and re-establish the lanterns. Even then, he felt it strange for a new location to inscribe itself and replace Yharnam, also as if it were beckoning him...
...
No, there was one way he hypothesised which would allow him to reawaken within the waking world. The Hunter made his way towards the edge of the patch of land of the Dream. He glimpsed downwards, seeing the cloudscape below, his hypothesis was to jump down the cloudscape.
"Are you off now, Good Hunter?" the Doll asked behind him, tenderly.
Hearing the Doll, his resolve dulled gradually, he was unsure whether his hypothesis was logically feasible. However, it was his only choice, less he wished to proceed with the alternative.
As if sensing his reluctance, the Doll reassured the Hunter, holding his hands in comfort. "It will be alright, Good Hunter." She soon pushed the Hunter off the edge, his eyes widening in surprise.
As he plummeted into the cloudscape, he watched the Doll raising her hand to her hair, to the silver comb he had given her when he stumbled upon the original workshop. It was where he found the basis of the Dream, and her body, unmoving and lifeless within the waking world. The silver comb, he brought back from the workshop and gifted to her, as he felt it rightfully so. He disappeared within the clouds below, and his consciousness slipped into darkness.
The Doll only observed as the Hunter disappeared into the clouds, quietly she spoke. "Farewell Good Hunter, may you find your worth in the Waking World."
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...
Where was he...?
The Good Hunter found himself to be staring within an abyssal void.
With no source of light from on end.
'... all over the shop...' a voice called out from a distance.
This voice...
The Hunter remembered it gravely...
'... one of them, sooner or later...'
... Father Gascoigne?
...
Why was he recalling this memory now of all times?
...
The Hunter looked onto his arms, no... He was not recalling it, he was reliving the memory.
In his hands were the standard hunter's pistol and the saw cleaver, the weapons he himself had used when he first began his hunt.
And especially when he fought Father Gascoigne.
The once proud hunter of the Healing Church, he himself succumbed to the Scourge of the Beast.
The battle between their first and now was night and day in comparison for the Hunter.
When his hunt began, he was but an inexperienced novice, unaware of the danger of the blood, and hopeful.
But now he knew the dangers it brings, only a merciful death was all that he could do.
Just as the Hunter remembered, in midst their fight, Father Gascoigne transformed into a hideous beast.
The once brutal movements of the old hunter had turned into a beastly, erratic, and instinctual sort.
Gascoigne's beastly strength were more than enough to break the surrounding gravestones which the Hunter had used as a cover from Gascoigne before his transformation, effectively closing the distance.
Eventually, the Hunter was cornered by the former old hunter, now a beast gone mad. And intent on tearing him apart.
The beast hunter leapt at the Hunter, his claws extracted and ready to maul him.
~~~~~
The Hunter woke up with a startle. Cold sweat broke upon his face.
A nightmare.
To think he still held such horrid dreams, even after everything he'd seen in Yharnam.
Father Gascoigne truly did leave his mark on the Hunter. That was his first exposure to the dangers of the beastly scourge, it taught the Hunter it did not discriminate between individuals, not even hunters were immune to it.
But now, Father Gascoigne was no longer around.
The Hunter looked around where he had awoken.
Where was he now?
The blowing of the eerie winds was ominous to him.
When he woke up, he saw that be was before a gravestone. With trees that had lost their leaves surrounding him.
The ominous woods seemed familiar.
Very familiar.
... Were these the Forbidden Woods?
No...
It cannot be.
These trees appeared to be less eerie then those damnable snake-infested woods.
If that was even possible.
The Good Hunter looked above him.
The blue skies, with a contrasting red sea, failing to ease the his tension, almost reminding the Good Hunter of the Paleblood Moon.
By the gods, where did he wander off to this time?
The Hunter stood from the gravestone, examining his surroundings.
He heard the sound of something rapidly heading towards him, he sounded like... rattlings of chains?
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This is NOT a harem.