I obviously don't own Dark Souls. If I did, I'd probably be working on the game instead of writing this.

Please don't sue.

Edit: Minor Revisions, and a few lines to set a few things up in chapter 2. Most of it is just formatting though.

You know those times when you look at a fictional universe and say 'Damn, those guys were idiots, I could do so much better in their place"? Yeah, don't do that. There is a term for that. It's called 'tempting fate'. I learned that the hard way that if you do so, it will kick your ass, kill you, then arrange for it to happen again.

It all started when I was musing out loud to myself, over a game. "Huh. Why do I have to -Kill- The boss? I got no beef with Quelaag, and in all honesty I'm going to feel guilty for it later when I find her sister." I said, "While just going into a boss fight works in some cases, while dealing with something sapient you should be able to talk to it. Try to get your quest done with a little tact. Would it have been that hard to change the question menu thing to give you a few more answers other than yes or no?" Yeah, that's me, going off with my bleeding heart. Then next line is the kicker though. "In this guy's position I'd just spend a bit of time rolling around, asking questions and maybe seeing if there was another way. I mean stamina regenerates pretty fast."

I'm sorry; I was too busy with my hysterical laughing to comment there. Why yes, I did assume that if I was really there, I'd be able to fall back on game mechanics. Probably because it's just a game, people don't just get dropped into fictional worlds. It just can't happen.

Take it from me. When the game hands you a giant flaming spider… woman… thing to kill, just kill it. Don't make stupid fate tempting commentary. It probably won't end well.

Seriously, this waiting was getting tedious, not to mention dangerous to my health.

First a week went by after I woke up in this damned cell without a clue as to how I got here. During that week I went through several mental breakdowns. The first was as soon as I woke up, and found myself in a ruin of a cell. The second came in after the first day went by and no one showed up to let me out, proving in my mind that this wasn't just a cruel joke. The third was on the second morning, and I realized 'Oh hell, this isn't just a cruel joke' and I was wishing rather hard for my mp3 player, or any musical device that I could use to calm down. Calling up earworms just wasn't the same.

Then a zombie peeked in on me. I had my fourth once I recognized the shambling glowing eyed corpse that was staring at me through the bars as a hollow from dark souls. Yeah, that took a while to calm down from… only to have another one once I realized that zombies don't eat food, and I didn't happen to have a Darksign anywhere on me, so starving to death was a very real danger.

Keeping a 'Breakdown count' I was at five before the sun came up fully on the second day. About day four I was finally able to pull myself together enough to scrounge for food. Then that number jumped to six before I could bring myself to eat it.

Desperate times….

I found some helpful mosses growing in my cell that got me through a couple of days, then I discovered that a bit of the wood off my bed –and I use that term lightly- could be coaxed into a small fire suitable for cooking the unlucky rats I managed to kill with a broken sword I discovered. It could be possible that the flint stones I found were brought in by the last occupant, not that the desiccated corpse lying with the absolute stillness I had come to associate with true death had any use for them anymore. That left me with a few days food to keep my strength up, and the steady dribbling of water coming off my roof ensured my needs of water were met. Of course, the little wood and cloth I had couldn't hold out forever, and I was hesitant to start burning my clothes. The nights got chilly, and I was already regretting the use of the blanket as tinder. Days turned into a week, then two, then three.

That brings me to the present I guess. No food, as the rats have wised up, no fire materials, and no fucking clue how I survived eating that-

A shadow passed over the hole in the roof and I briefly saw an armoured figure before a body blocked my view, tumbling down onto the floor of my cell. Shit. If I remember the game right…

I rummaged the tattered rags of the dead hollow, and sure enough, I found a key. Further testing proved that it was indeed the one to my cell –and probably every other cell in this block- as my door swung obediently open. A hollow stared at me, but otherwise didn't react. I was somewhat relieved at that. Maybe it was just used to me by this point? Checking the hall revealed the stray demon glaring balefully at me as it sat in the center of its massive room.

"Right…" I heard my voice, raspy from disuse; croak out to the hulking monster "If I want out'a here I need t' think of how t' deal with yer little brother." Inwardly I winced. Mutilation of the English language aside, the asylum demon really was a problem I needed to deal with. If not now then fairly soon.

The monster rushed the bars in reply, causing small cracks to appear in the wall they were attached too.

Needless to say, I bugged the hell out. Though in my defense, I didn't piss myself as I no doubt would've had I had this happened to me three weeks ago. I guess just under a month of interacting with nothing but rats, moss, and withered corpses will toughen a guy up psychologically.

Right, that whole tempting fate thing.

After bolting up the stairs like a started rabbit, I paused to catch my breath.

The room was filled with water, save for the quarter I was standing on, and except for the sputtering torch behind me was unlit. The water didn't look that deep though, mostly ankle deep, with it being about to my knees at the deepest. That last guess was based on where it came to on the hollow crouched in the water staring at me with blank, glowing eye sockets.

"Shut the hell up." I rasped at it, "You would've run too."

It either didn't understand me (rather likely) or it just couldn't speak, as it simply continued to stare at me. This admittedly, was fine by me. With the way the muscle on these guys had atrophied I was fairly certain in my ability to eliminate them if need be. Especially with this crappy broken sword.

"That's right." I muttered.

I striped off my shoes and socks, and then rolled up my pants. I didn't know how long it would be until I could find new shoes, so if possible I would rather keep these ones dry. After that I proceeded to, and through the only other exit in the room. This brought me to another room with a ladder.

Well fuck. With one hand occupied by my footwear, and one hand occupied by my sword, this was going to be a problem. You know what, screw the crappy sword. I hadn't needed to fight yet, and if I had my way I wouldn't need to for a while yet.

Up the ladder, then mincingly across the mildly damaged floor, I finally found my way to my first objective, the first bonfire.

"Light" I thrust my hand at it. No response. "Burn" Nothing. "Ignite?"

Screw you bonfire. The flint didn't work either.

Still though, this was a fairly safe area and I really did need to get an actual game plan going. Dying wasn't on the agenda, and no little burning… ring… mark somewhere on my body meant that taking a dirt nap would be more than simply inconvenient.

"Alright." A nearby stick served as a suitable drawing implement. "First, I need my plan for the encounter through the door. Easy. Run like hell to the door on the left side of the room." I grimaced "The asylum demon is way out of my league, if possible I need to get around it." There was just no way I could take that thing, even with a good weapon, and better shield. Hell, even if I had good armour (which I don't) that I could actually move in, I'd be screwed.

"Second, the rest of the asylum." It occurred to me that it was possible that the other denizens would be as friendly as the ones I had already met, which I discounted immediately. "I can't assume that. Doing so will get me killed." So, get a weapon after the big guy. Vaguely I hoped that my memories of a weapon and shield ahead would prove accurate. "They seem to be pretty dumb though, I could work that to my advantage and loot whatever lay ahead has."

My complete lack of support -and stuff- made things much more difficult. I made a mental note to loot a rope at the earliest possible convenience. If I had one, I could just rappel down the wall of the asylum, and walk away. No need to deal with the demon more than once. Although, that rope plan may still prove to be a viable plan depending on what I find.

Any other plans would need to wait until Firelink Shrine.

I looked around the area I was in. It almost looked like it may have once been an internal leisure park or perhaps an exercise field for the inhabitants. Now that I was out of my cell, my guess was that in better times this place may have been significantly more pleasant that at its present state.

Unfortunately there was nothing particularly useful. Just some sparse grass and a thin patina of snow that was considerably sparser in the center where the surprisingly warm sun managed to reach. The place was a ruined mess too, with bricks of the wall scattered about. I did make note to grab a brick before I left however. A two kilogram rock would be a much better weapon then a bare fist.

A bit more searching around turned up a rusty iron door. No catch on my side, and I didn't see a lock on it. Since it wasn't swinging open, that meant that it had a latch on it someplace. The bars were spaced with some distance apart though, and after sliding my arm through it was a few seconds work to find and pop the lever open.

Maybe I wouldn't need to get splattered by the demon after all.

I paused, and listened to the sounds. A bass deep tremble occurring after brief intervals was the first thing I noticed. Just like footsteps. My guess was that it was either the Stray Demon below, or the Asylum Demon above. The next things I noticed were a rasping breath, and faint mutters.

I frowned. Hollows didn't mutter. They hissed when they were annoyed, and made a pathetic attempt at a roar when enraged. That rasping breath was pretty typical though. Further listening confirmed that the sounds were coming from two different places. The muttering was somewhere up the stairs but more forward, and the breath was-

I looked up, and briefly saw two glowing sparks above. They vanished in a moment, and immediately after I heard the sound of metal grinding on stone. Then things started to go downhill.

I heard a huge impact, and my eyes flashed to the top of the stairs. Rocks and bits of debris were falling from the wall up top. Then a hissing rattle and the hollow I had seen jumped down onto my set of stairs. There was no mistaking that glint in the dark for anything but metal. My throat tightened. I was going to be killed by an emaciated zombie. All of my supposed cleverness, my shitty plans, and foreknowledge of what would hopefully be, were about to be for naught.

The hollow took a step forward, a rictus grin on its face as if it knew how royally screwed I was. I stumbled back, and felt my back impact against the rusty door I had just opened. My killer lunged, and I hurled myself out into the courtyard, trying to slam the door shut as I went. It worked.

I knew I didn't have long, maybe five seconds while it figured out that it needed to pull instead of push, but five seconds is all I needed to get clear of the door, and grab a brick. As I turned around I heard the shriek of the hinges. The Hollow ran at me and lunged, sword high and what I could only guess was soulless triumph it its eyes, a light I might add that went out when the brick shattered over its head.

As it fell, my right hand lashed out and grabbed its sword wrist, while my left forced its hand down to a ninety degree angle. The broken sword dropped. I then shifted my grip, then my weight, turning so my back was against its chest. Still gripping its right hand with my left, I hooked its shoulder with my right and heaved. The shoulder throw was shoddy, and no doubt that my uncle would have chastised me for trying it. The hollow however, was a retarded zombie that had probably never dealt with judo (however limited and crappy) even when it was alive. Not that it would have mattered as it was still reeling from my brick. As it impacted the ground, I dropped to one knee and picked up its sword then plunged it into the hollows throat.

I couldn't keep a certain victory fanfare from going off in my head. I began to chuckle, then laugh in earnest. In that laughter was relief and the heady feeling of survival. I had bested my first real opponent. I won. I was alive, and now? Now I was on top of the world.

Still those mutters to deal with however, and my memory stirred as to who might be making them. If I was right, I might just have a chance at getting out. If I was wrong? Well now I was armed, so my chances were better than they were before I dropped the hollow. At that grim thought, my laughter ceased.

"Damn it" I murmured to myself "I'd probably've have a better chance in 40k"

New crappy weapon in hand, I once more traveled through that forsaken rusted door. Taking stock of the noises again (hey it saved my life once) I heard nothing beyond the mutters. Encouraged I climbed the staircase, and popped my head through the newly made hole in the wall. I say a man in armor lying on a pile of rubble.

Looks like I was right. I had to suppress a girly squeal at what that meant for my chances of getting through this alive.

As I approached, the knight's head turned to me. "You're no hollow." A pained chuckle "That is a relief. I'm done for I'm-"

"Bullshit" Paragon interrupt, bitch. Time to save your hide, so you can get mine to safety. "I'm no undead, but I know that bonfires produce estus that you guys use to heal." I knelt next to him, the looped his arm around my neck. One solid heave later, and we were both standing "And wouldn't you know it? There happens to be a bonfire just down a set of stairs." I started walking "Convenient, eh?"

"Y-yes." His voice was shaken "Is it lit?"

"No, but I'm going to place my bets that you can light it" A terrifying thought struck me. What if he couldn't? That meant then when he hollowed, I'd need to deal with a fresh and somewhat smarter zombie. One whom was really damn heavy. "Please tell me you can light it…"

He nodded "I can, but it won't be as effective as one with a fire keeper" I nodded myself, rather relived.

The walk back down the stairs was painful, and it felt like ages. It was also uneventful; thank whatever kind deity was left in this crapsack world.

Bonfire lit, I bemusedly watched the healing energies- estus I corrected myself mentally- swirl about, and infuse my new companion. My own aches and pains were left unattended however, and my own mortality left an itching between my shoulder blades.

"So." I began "Fate of the undead. 'He who is undead, travel to Lordran and ring the bell of awakening'. Right?"

He twitched "You know?" It was seriously a pain in the ass not being able to see his face. "I thought that legend was passed down through my line alone."

"I'm something of a scholar." I said shortly "I know quite a few legends, and a good deal of the geography of Lordran."


I grinned inwardly after too many times listening to the prologue it was child's play to recite it.

"' In the Age of Ancients,The world was unformed, shrouded by fog. A land of grey crags, archtrees, and everlasting dragons
But then there was Fire. And with Fire came Disparity. Heat and cold, life and death, and of course... Light and Dark.
Then, from the Dark, They came, and found the Souls of Lords within the flame.
Nito, the First of the Dead. The Witch of Izalith, and her daughters of Chaos. Gwyn, the Lord of Sunlight, and his faithful knights. And the furtive pygmy, so easily forgotten.
With the Strength of Lords, they challenged the dragons.
Gwyn's mighty bolts peeled apart their stone scales. The witches weaved great firestorms. Nito unleashed a miasma of death and disease.
And Seath the Scaleless betrayed his own, and the dragons were no more. Thus began the Age of Fire

A long silence stretched out between us, and a moment of panic ripped through me as it occurred to me that I may have overplayed my hand.

"That" The knight said slowly "Is the first time I heard of that particular version." He tapped his knee "The usual version has Nito, Gwyn, and the Witch springing forth from the flame, rather than the dark, and Gwyn destroyed the dragons on his own." A pause. "The Witch birthed demons, and Nito brought death into the world. Those two aren't usually considered on the side of good." My guess was that he then frowned. "And I have never heard of this 'furtive pygmy'…"

Shit. It was beginning to occur to me that my meta knowledge might be getting me into trouble. In fact I should probably take pains to avoid revealing much of what I know. Well I was just about hooped for this instance. Still though, I hadn't revealed my full hand. People knowing about my jack wouldn't be so bad either, it's just when they figure out I've got a royal flush I'll be screwed.

Still… I could salvage this. "I'm not surprised. That is the only text that so much as mentions a fourth lord." I allowed myself a chuckle that sounded fairly fake to me, but hopefully would be taken as the genuine thing by him. "Maybe he just didn't do anything of note?"

"Perhaps." He sounded satisfied, but I wasn't too sure. "Still, this conjecture isn't helping us. Any knowledge you have of Lordran might, if we can get there." His voice softened "I'm in your debt stranger."

"I'm not much of a fighter. Get me out of here, and I'll consider anything you owe me repaid." Well, no, but it sounded good, and there were places of relative safety in Lordran, so if he bailed on me I might still have a shot at finding some nook to hide in.

"Yes." Another nod, "Though, it might be wise to get you equipped with something better then you are now." His voice took a sadder tone "I believe I know where we can find such equipment as well."

We made our way back up the stairs, my cohort leading the way. Noting that there was no hollow waiting at the top of the second flight, I made a mental note to be wary of the one I dispatched near our bonfire. Once more thing I had to remind myself that the game mechanic of 'all enemies except bosses (and certain mini bosses) re-spawn when a bonfire was used' was likely just that; a mechanic of a game. That thought didn't comfort me. In fact? It made the spot between my shoulder blades itch worse. Predictable enemy locations were one thing, as was knowing when they would be back. My current situation meant that everything I killed that had a darksign would re-animate at an unspecified point in the future, regardless of where I was, or where it fell. I wanted to break down and cry, but at this point I couldn't afford to undermine what Oscar thought of me.

Ah, yes. Our introductions had been brief, with him giving a bit of his reason of being here, which I didn't really pay attention to. I had more important things to focus on, notably my own back-story. I could hardly tell him truthfully about myself, and different places have different naming conventions. My name, though not unusual for my universe, would be rather peculiar here. I cooked up a bit of a sob story of how I was either abandoned, or orphaned shortly after birth and was bounced around between caravans. My arrival at the undead asylum was a result of an Undead being discovered in our midst at the authorities of the town we were restocking in, and had all of us sent there in fear we were all cursed. Nobody in the caravan had cared to come up with a name for me, and just called me 'Boy' or 'Nuisance'. He seemed to buy-

Right. Current situation. Digressing just a bit much. I halted him at the top of the first flight, and made a hushing gesture. Briefly listening, I heard a rasping echo. That reminded me of the bow hallow in the hallway after the first encounter with the Asylum Demon. It was possible that that was where we were going, and after a bit of rather quiet inquiry, he confirmed it.

"Down that hallway," he whispered. "One of the others I was traveling with…" his voice cracked slightly.

"You need a minute?" it came out a bit drier then I had intended, and I hoped he missed it.

His baleful glare (Seriously, I could feel It.) told me otherwise. "No," he said shortly, "and despite my debt to you, you would do well not to speak lightly of my loss."

I nodded "Duly noted." I paused "Yet you would do well not to grieve in a combat zone." A thought struck me "I suspect, however, that you could tell me the dangers of that far better than I could speculate…" if I was right, the grieving is what got is ass borderline killed.

He started, then sighed "You 're right, Gwyn knows I wish you weren't." his next words were a bit more rueful "Your offense was just to break me out of that slump, wasn't it."

It wasn't, it was just me being a prick, but I nodded sagely. "Sometimes callousness can be kinder than tact."

After that I left him in the chamber briefly. Just long enough for me to creep up behind a certain bow wielding walking corpse without his armour jingling in warning.

"go'cha" I growled at it.

I snaked my hand under its armpit, and grabbed the back of its head. The thing struggled like it was possessed (which it kinda was) and I realized that perhaps my debilitation from living off rats and moss was likely worse than I had thought as it was. Still, I had enough time to stab that broken sword through it several times which then caused the struggles to stop.

Ok, dead zombie, "It's dead," I called back. "I snuck up on the hollow without a hitch." A few seconds later, Oscar came jingling in.

"My sword brother is over there" he gestured towards where I vaguely remembered where you picked up you class shield in game.

Saying it wasn't a pretty sight, would be like saying the sun is hot. Correct as far as things go, but a woefully sad understatement.

The first arrow went into the side of the knee, probably crippling him for the rest of his incredibly short life. Another dozen or so littered the ground, and the plate parts of the armour were somewhat dented. The killing blow was either one of two things. Either it was one of the four arrows that were shot at point blank range into the helmet (it would have to be point blank to pierce plate) embedding themselves deep into poor bastards head, or it was the heavy impact that smashed the torso of the man flat.

Grizzly as it was however, the armor; identical to what Oscar was wearing, was doing fairly alright. It could use a blacksmith, but in the meantime it was much better than cotton, polar fleece, and the denim shell of my pants.

"While… while I divest my former comrade of his armour, could you take some time and look around?" He asked. "Take some time… I would-" he took a moment to steady himself, "I would like to give him a brief benediction."

I nodded. "Do what you have to do, just keep an ear open." I looked at the wrecked body "I don't think a bonfire could bring -anybody- back from that."

"Indeed." He murmured grimly. "I'll pay attention"

Satisfied that he was going to be careful; I traveled back into the 'stair room' as I had begun to think of it, and began my search. Rocks, a few chains well and truly stuck to the wall, that big ass metal ball that busted a hole in the side of the room I found Oscar in, and a broken staircase that couldn't be climbed in game. This was no game however, and I was able to crawl my way up it with some difficulty.

"Shit." I panted to myself "I either need some cardio… which I do, or I'm really effing debilitated." Which was also true, but I wasn't exactly in any position to do anything about that.

Still, it wasn't in vain. At the top was a truly desiccated body, and with a little looting, I found a rusted ring, which I pocketed, and a key with all the teeth filed off of it. I pocketed the key too. If someone felt that the labor required to craft it was worth it, who was I to argue?

Having basically exhausted my options here, I made my way back to Oscar, picking through the rubble of each room on my way over. Not even some potentially edible greenery. He was finished by this point, his dead sword brother buried was well as he could contrive, the armour set aside.

"You have a choice of weapons" he said softly "Elliot favored blades imported from the East, yet he carried his standard issue short sword for tight quarters."

I hefted the Eastern blade. It was surprisingly light, yet as I tested it felt somewhat awkward, almost like the blade was heavier than it should be. My guess was that the balance was deliberate, and it would take someone stronger than me to keep control of it. And that's ignoring the hand eye coordination needed to maximize its effectiveness. I set the blade on the makeshift grave, and lifted the short sword. Light, solid, good point and small enough I could use it effectively in tight quarters. Nothing special, but it felt good in my hand.

"Standard issue is usually standard issue for a reason" I said philosophically, and grabbed the sword belt and sheath. "What's the situation on the armour?"

"The boots are unlikely to fit, and you seem to have adequate pants." He cleared his throat "the helm was too thin, which was why the arrows pierced it." He looked on at his comrade's body. "There will be hell to pay for cutting corners if I ever get back to Astora."

I grimaced, "Any other good news?"

He nodded "Oh yes," he said, tone dust dry "The straps that hold the fauld were torn by the impact, and the gloves have had the metal bands in them bent to the extent that they are impossible to wear." A brief chuckle, "If we had a blacksmith, everything but the helm could be repaired or fitted to you. As is however?" He shrugged.

So, basically, the only thing that was good was the torso armour, and the sword belt. Damn it. "What's the condition of the shield?"

"Scuffed, but serviceable."

The shield was a good solid heater. This one had straps meant to secure it to my arm, useful since that meant I could still grip my sword for two handed strikes if need be. In hind sight, the late Elliot probably used two handed strikes with his favored blade, and had his shield custom fitted with that in mind. Not that I minded.

We got me fully equipped (a significant production), then returned to the Stair Room.

"How do you guys wear this stuff?" I asked, shifting my shoulders. Damn Itch just would not go away.

"With training," He murmured sympathetically, "And I suspect that it feels heavier than it is due to your current state.

Fair enough. We climbed the tallest flight, and Oscar used a key to open the door at the top, and then twitched in dismay.

Getting up where I could see, I saw why. Another body cratered in the right parapet, this one female.

"Our guide" Oscar whispered sadly "A pyromancer hailing from the great swamp. She knew the roads to Lordran."

We didn't exactly have time to brood as a duo of Hollows came clattering around the corner. Oscar parried the firsts haphazard swing, then delivered a professional stab through the guts, I sidestepped the seconds downwards swing, and backhanded it in the face with my shield. I followed up by then punching my own blade through its chest. It jerked and clutched at the blade, the glowing lights it had in place of eyes dimmed, and I finished the job with a twist of the short sword.

When I turned Oscar had already rounded the corner, and another hissing rattle told me he just dispatched a third.

Once he returned he faced me, sighed, then turned back around to continue scouting up ahead "…Be respectful." He tossed behind him.

Nodding despite him not looking at me, I began my grisly duty.

I found the ashes that I assumed had once been her pyromancy flame, a busted hand axe, and a locket. I took off one of her manchette, and tried it on. It fit, so I striped off my shield, and put the other one on as well. They were surprisingly comfortable. I undid the belt holding her pouches and supplies and picked through them. Very little of use was in them, but she had a quiver full of bolts, an empty estus flask, and I found her light crossbow nearby beneath some rubble. It was a bit battered, but a quick pull showed that it was functional. Further inspection of her yielded a kind of back holster for it that I happily appropriated. Ah hell, why not? I belted the pouches on as well. Never know when I'm going to need some more storage room.

I flinched as I heard a heavy thump next to me. Twisting around, I saw a pair of heavy boots.

"Try them on" Oscar stated "I think that they will fit, but I can't be sure."

They did fit. Not perfect, but well within what I was used to. They were scuffed from hard use, but much more durable then my runners. I tactfully didn't ask where they came from, mostly because the answer was likely the same as all the rest of my gear.

"I also found a chain long enough to get down there" he pointed over the parapet "She probably found it, and was in the process of tying it when the demon found her."

"The lets finish the job before it finds us in the same situation." I said shortly.

Oscar noded, and went about tying our makeshift rope. The loop at the end had a crude weld in it that looked quite sturdy, so he looped the chain around several bars and threaded it through the eye.

"She must have used her pyromancy to fuse the chains end to end to make it long enough." Oscar marveled, and suddenly I found myself wishing that it was her I rescued from the brink. Oscar was a nice guy, and he very obviously had a ton of martial experience, but this dead woman was crafty. And likely a damn sight nicer to look at then my faceless friend.

Of course, if I had my choice, I'd have gotten both.

We managed to get down the ladder before everything went to hell. I should have known it would. That unreachable spot between my shoulder blades was itching so badly it felt like it was on fire.

We made it almost to the first broken wall of the cliff, looking for a way down when we heard an inhuman bellow.

We turned as one to watch that hulking monstrosity slam into the ground. Oscar swore, and I just had the thought run through my head that the fat-ass needed to lay off the trough of hot fudge. Then it began to charge us, and all lunatic hilarity I may have felt vanished before a choking tide of terror. We ran like terrified rabbits, because there was no way that our toothpicks could sufficiently damage that seven meter tall monstrosity. Oscar looked up, and obviously saw something that drove him mad, because he ran toward that edge faster, and leaped off of it. I, still having my facilities in tact, stopped short.

Just in time for the Asylum demon to slam that massive club into me, and hurl me off anyway. My world was pain. My last moments were seeing the ground speeding towards me, and black feathers whipping around me, and wind shrieking in my ears, yet I was in too much pain to really register anything.

Once I hit the ground though, the pain stopped. Just like everything else.