He dreamed of a world still in its infancy. A place unshaped, wreathed in a never-ending fog. Jagged crags stretched into the heavens, their roots wrapped around titanic arch trees that scraped the sky. There was no sun, no stars, only grey.
Then, fire bloomed.
It burned into existence like a defiant scream—radiant orange, splitting the gloom. Around it, the world shifted. Shadows stirred. Corpses began to rise, dragging themselves toward the light. Just as shapes began to form in the fire's reflection, a blinding flash swallowed it all.
[Aspirant! Welcome to the Nightmare Spell. Prepare for your First Trial...]
Solaire's eyes snapped open.
He stood in a long line, shuffling forward alongside dozens of others. Iron bars loomed in the distance. A prison gate, colossal and imposing. Yet before he could process anything, his vision twisted again.
Another shift. Another place.
The air was stale and thick. Faint skittering echoed from the corners. Bugs crawled across damp stone, and rusted bars boxed him in. As he pushed himself up, the scent of mold filled his lungs. It wasn't just a cell.
It was a tomb.
His fingers brushed against the bars. Something felt wrong. His breath caught as he raised his hands into the light.
They were skeletal. Dried sinew clung to bone, skin grey and paper-thin, like an ancient corpse too stubborn to stay buried.
Panic surged. He stumbled back, breath ragged, mind racing—
Crash!
A sudden shaft of light poured in from above as part of the ceiling gave way. Dust fell like rain, and a silhouette emerged against the glow. A knight, clad in weathered steel armor. They stared down at him. Or at least, he thought they did. The helmet betrayed nothing.
Without a word, the knight dropped something into the cell.
A corpse.
Then they were gone.
"Wh-what the hell was that?! Where am I?! What is this place?!"
Solaire paced in circles before pausing. He forced himself to breathe.
Focus.
He closed his eyes and reached for the one thing every Awakened could rely on.
His status.
Lines of shimmering runes glimmered before him, etching themselves into the air like a language etched in bone. He couldn't read them. Not with his eyes. But somehow, he understood.
Name: Solaire
True name:
Rank: Aspirant
Humanity: Dormant
Memories: [Wanderer's armor]
Echoes:
A̵̩͋t̵̰̒t̴̽ͅr̶͈͛ĭ̸̼b̶̤͠u̸̲͗ṯ̴͝ḙ̸̋s̶̱̑:
Aspect: [undead]
Aspect description: [An accursed undead, branded by the darksign. Those branded are reborn after death but will one day lose their minds and go Hollow]
"What the hell is this glitched mess…?" His voice was tight with confusion and dread. "Darksign? Hollow? Is that what I am now? Agh!!! No use pondering, let's see what I have"
"Wanderer's armor... that's probably this thing I'm wearing."
He focused on the memory.
Memory: Wanderer's Armor
Leather armor worn by those who travel light and fast. Resistant to wind, rain, and time. Offers minimal protection but keeps the body moving.
"Not exactly knight-grade... but I'll take it."
His eyes drifted back to the corpse the knight had thrown. Suspicious as hell... but he wasn't in a position to ignore help.
He knelt.
Something cold met his fingers.
A key.
He stared up toward the hole in the ceiling. "Okay, maybe not a weirdo. Maybe."
With cautious reverence, he slipped the key into the lock. Metal groaned. The gate clicked open.
"Thank the gods... or whoever's watching."
He stepped out into a narrow hallway, dimly lit by dying torches. Iron-barred windows lined the right wall, curious, he approached one and peered out.
Then immediately recoiled.
A hulking figure stomped past outside, its steps shaking the floor. Twelve feet tall, bloated and monstrous. Its skin glistened like oozing leather, covered in pustules and filth. A jagged maw stretched across its swollen belly, while its head—if it had one—was a lump of muscle buried beneath armor plates and festering rot. Gripped in its claws was a great hammer, each swing echoing doom.
Solaire dropped to the floor, hand clasped over his mouth.
"Nope. Nope. That thing is a boss fight waiting to happen. I just got here! This was supposed to be an easy trial!"
Fear threatened to root him, but he couldn't give up this early. Forcing his legs to move, he crept down the hallway, eyes scanning every corner, every shadow.
Then—a ladder.
With barely a thought, he climbed. The air grew colder as he rose. At the top, he emerged into a square courtyard. Corridors flanked all sides, and at the center loomed a large iron gate.
"That looks like progress. Which means it's probably dangerous. Well, only one way to find out"
Making his way towards the gate, he heaved it open.
"Huh? That was easy? Maybe it wasn't as heavy as it looked"
Inside, nothing.
Just an empty chamber. Quite and echoing. His footsteps tapped against the floor as he made his way in.
He halted to a grinding noise.
His head snapped left. A second metal gate had begun to open.
"Ok…..is that where im supposed to go next?"
He turned toward it and started walking—
A roar split the air.
He looked up just in time to see the hulking creature from before crash down into the arena.
"NOPE!"
He ran. Hard. The gate was still opening, but he squeezed through just as the hammer slammed into the stone behind him. Sparks flew.
Tripping, scrambling, he dove down a dark tunnel and rolled into the gloom beyond.
Panting.
Sweating.
Alive.
"What the hell is this trial?! That thing was outside! How did it get here?! Don't tell me... there's more of them?!"
He walked forward, tired and extremely cautious, each step measured as the decaying stone floor creaked beneath his boots. The air was heavy with the scent of rot and age, and every shadow seemed to twitch at the edge of his vision.
It wasn't long before he encountered something—or rather, someone—in the corridor ahead. The figure stood still at first, slouched and barely balanced on its feet. It looked eerily similar to him: same hollowed skin, same tattered armor. But unlike Solaire, it had no spark behind its eyes. No awareness.
Then, suddenly, it twitched.
With a jerking motion, it raised its head and turned toward him. For a second, it simply stared, and then, as if something clicked in its decayed mind, it let out a hoarse, gurgling cry and drew a broken sword from its side.
Solaire flinched.
The thing staggered into a charge, its movements awkward and uncoordinated, the rusted blade trembling in its grip. He stumbled back, panic rising in his throat. No training, no instincts—just fear.
But there was no time to run.
As the hollow raised its sword for a wide, clumsy swing, Solaire lunged in sheer desperation. He ducked low, reaching for the creature's arm, but the weight caught him off guard. The blade scraped against his shoulder as he fumbled for control, and with a grunt, he wrestled the weapon from the hollow's grip.
They crashed against the wall.
He reached blindly for the sword, grabbed it with shaking hands, and with more luck than skill, drove it into the thing's neck. The hollow gave a final twitch before going still.
He staggered back, chest heaving. The body dissolved into ash and vanished.
No message. No confirmation.
He waited a second longer, but the silence remained.
Maybe it didn't count. Maybe the spell didn't care. He didn't want to dwell on it.
Moving on, he eventually reached a barred overlook. Beyond the iron railings, in a rubble-filled chamber, lay a familiar figure. Rays of light filtered down from a crack above, casting a soft glow over the knight's weathered armor—it was the same one who had dropped the corpse into his cell. He called out, but there was no response. The knight didn't even move.
Solaire circled the area, searching for an entrance, but found none. Facing the wall were two staircases: one leading upward and one downward. Without much thought, he began climbing.
Halfway up, something creaked above him.
His instincts screamed a moment too late. A massive boulder came crashing down from the upper floor. His eyes widened, and he threw himself to the side, tumbling off the stairs and landing hard on the steps below.
Groaning, he sat up, his breath shaky. His left arm was bent unnaturally—bone jutting out through the skin—but strangely, he felt no pain.
Pushing himself up, he returned to the top of the stairs and saw what had caused the crash. The boulder had broken through the wall of the chamber, revealing a path into the knight's room.
He climbed through carefully and approached.
The knight—Oscar of Astora—remained where he was, half-buried in rubble, his gaze fixed somewhere above Solaire's head. Slowly, he turned to face him, as if aware of Solaire's presence but too far gone to react.
"You... you are no hollow, eh..." His voice was weak and dry. "I'm done for... I'll die soon and lose my sanity."
Solaire knelt beside him, uncertain. "Wait—Hollow? What is a hollow? Why will you lose your sanity?"
But the knight didn't answer the question. His voice carried on, flat and distant, as if he were merely repeating words etched into his soul.
"I wish to ask something of you… You and I… we're both undead. Hear me out, will you?"
Solaire hesitated, then nodded. "Sure. I'll hear you out. Least I can do after you freed me from that cell."
The knight's breath rattled as he continued. "Regrettably… I have failed in my mission. There is a saying in my family: 'Thou who art Undead, art chosen. In thine exit from the Undead Asylum, thou shalt maketh pilgrimage...'"
He coughed violently. Blood flecked his lips.
"Before I die… I have one thing to ask of you. Kill me. And leave this place. For I will be hollow soon… and I do not wish to harm you."
Solaire stumbled back, flustered. "Wait—wait, this is all beyond me. Why must I kill you? What even is an undead? How am I different from those things I fought? Also..pilgrimage? What's that?"
The knight said nothing more.
His silence felt like an answer in itself. Solaire's mind flashed back to what Lautrec had told him—the people he met here were illusions, tests.
Grimacing, he reached down and took the knight's sword. With a deep breath, he raised it, and drove the blade into Oscar's heart.
[You have slain an awakened human, Oscar of Astora]
[You have received a memory: Estus Flask]
Solaire blinked, trying to process the notification.
"I got a memory! Not bad, not bad at all! Let's see…"
Memory: [Estus Flask]
Memory Rank: Transcendent
Memory Type: Utility
Memory Description: An emerald flask, from the keeper's soul. She lives to protect the flame, and dies to protect it further.
"Transcendent?! Wait... isn't that the same rank as saints?"
He summoned the memory without hesitation. Just like the description, it appeared as a radiant emerald flask filled with glowing orange liquid.
"This is it? A transcendent memory is just shiny orange water? Hope it's edible."
He took a hesitant sip.
"Well... it tastes good at least. What a scam though! Just when I thought my luck had turned around—"
But as he wiped his mouth, he realized something was different. The fatigue was gone. His breath came easier. He looked down at his arm—and saw smooth, unbroken skin. No blood. No pain.
"Wait… my wounds are healed. Is it because of this liquid?"
He stared at the flask in disbelief, a slow grin spreading across his face.
"Must be. That's what I was thinking. No way a transcendent memory is just this much."
Here's the edited version with smoother flow and natural sentence connection, keeping the meaning intact:
"Anyway, I need to move on," Solaire muttered, glancing once more at Oscar's lifeless body. "If what he said is true, then maybe leaving this 'Undead Asylum' is the way to end the nightmare."
Determined, he made his way down the staircase to check the lower floor. At the bottom, he was met with a heavy metal gate—firmly locked.
"Well, that rules out one path," he sighed. "Only one way left now."
With no other option, he turned around and started ascending the stairs leading upward.