His steps were light; his body covered in a shroud of withering shadows. The once glorious city, which had housed millions—if not billions of people, now lay in ruin around him.
He was more akin to a wraith, than any living person. An unseen spectre which travelled through the ruins with only a singular goal.
Survival.
The sun, once a bright star which illuminated the world, was gone, hidden in blankets of smoke and gathered dust which threatened to smother him. In its place, only darkness and gloom existed.
For many, this would be their final resting place.
With the darkness hiding its own nightmares within, and no food, water or shelter being readily available, the chances of surviving were practically zero.
Unless you escaped.
He stepped from one shadow and appeared out of another, his eyes scanning the surroundings for any dangers. When nothing moved or appeared unnatural, he repeated his previous actions.
On and on it went, the process repeating nearly a dozen more times.
Stopping under the shadow of a ruined skyscraper, he allowed himself a minute of respite. Not because he was tired, far from it. As an Ascended, his stamina was far above even the healthiest of mundane humans.
No, the reason he had stopped was simple.
It was because of a slab of concrete, placed in a suspiciously perfect way to make its jagged body lean against the wall of the ruined skyscraper. Well, it would have been suspicious, if it wasn't he who had placed it there.
Moving carefully, he pulled the slab of concrete away from the wall, placing it gently on the ground beneath him. Any sudden noise in this relatively quiet city would only bring the most unwanted attention right now.
His lips twisted into a satisfied grin at what he found. A small red cross connected to an arrow pointing east.
It had been the idea of Makarov, the leader of their little Fireteam and the most seasoned Ascended in the whole group, to make various marks on their surroundings to make sure they wouldn't get lost if they had to retreat.
Already he had found three others, and he knew that there were at least five more waiting to guide him back to the garrison.
Steely himself and pushing the thoughts of his Fireteam as far back as he could, he prepared to move again. Except, this time, it wouldn't be so easy.
Stone crumbled from a rooftop across the street from him, bouncing and scattering on the ground below. In the silence of the ruined city, those little stones sounded more like gunshots.
In his excitement of unveiling one of the marks, he had forgotten the single most important rule when traversing a Death Zone like this one.
Keeping an eye on his surroundings.
Because, on what he knew was a previously empty rooftop, now sat an abomination the likes of which could only appear in your worst nightmares.
Covered in black inky feathers, the abomination had an almost inhuman appearance. It stood on two legs, akin to a crow, with each foot ending in hooked claws made for grabbing and tearing.
On its back, sprouted four twisted wings, each larger than its already tall body, and with feathers that could slice through steel with ease. Its four arms were long and thin, almost bony, but it was its claws that held the most danger.
As long and sharp as the feathers on its wings, they were almost jagged in appearance, seemingly made for tearing rather than cutting. But it was its head that caught his attention. A beak as dark and sharp as obsidian, and six burning crimson eyes, each trained exactly onto his body.
He knew exactly what this was.
There were many names for this thing. Some called them abominations, nightmares, monsters. Others knew the truth. The Ascended called them for what they were.
The Fallen Spawn.
The children, and foot soldiers of the last six Empyrean to be born and fall to Corruption.
They were as hideous as they were deadly.
This one had a whole label given to its species by the science community. The Corvus Plumatus Validus Spawn. From what he remembered, the name had something to do with the large plumage on its chest.
'Focus you fool…' he chastised himself.
His main ability was the power to travel through any shadow he had within his sight, extremely useful and powerful in its own way, but it was the added benefits of his ability which were keeping him alive right now.
When within a shadow, he became all but invisible. It wasn't unless he wanted to be seen or he spoke and moved that the invisibility would vanish. That was why the abomination hadn't yet lunged at him and ripped his throat out.
But even then, the Fallen Spawns eyes were powerful, and it somehow knew that something was hiding below it. Were it any other creature sitting on that rooftop, he would have easily stood there and waited for it to move.
But this…thing, was an ambush predator, and had a unique physiology which allowed it to survive for weeks without any food. In simple terms, he would die of starvation and thirst before it even got bored of waiting.
But before that, he would also have to worry about surviving through the night. Whilst his shroud could somewhat trick the Corvus Spawn, those that came out in the dark wouldn't have much of a problem with finding him.
They were specifically adapted to hunting things in the night, and what was the night if not darkness and shadows? They would murder him before he could even raise his longsword.
Truthfully, he only had two options.
Either he waited for nightfall and hoped that something getting close would attract the Corvus Spawn's attention.
Or, he faced it right now, and either suffered death or came out as the victor with injuries that would only slow him down and get him killed later.
He cursed in the confines of his mind. No matter how he looked at it, he wouldn't come out of this unscathed.
Keeping his body as still as he possibly could. He tried to think of anything else that he could do.
But nothing came to mind.
Which left only one option.
The desire to sigh was large, but he kept his body locked in place, in an eerily similar fashion to the abomination.
With only his longsword at his hip, and the ability to meld and step through shadows, his chances of survival would be low in this fight, extremely so, but not zero.
It was better than guaranteed death.
In all his short time as an Ascended, he had only ever travelled through the shadows cast by inanimate objects, never once had he entertained the idea of moving through the shadow of a living being.
Until now.
When faced with impossible odds and stuck facing either certain death or survival, thousands of years of evolution would grant any human a way to survive. To the mundane, this was known as Hysterical Strength, granting them physical power to rival those of the Ascended.
To the Ascended, whose bodies were already shaped and moulded to handle the stress which came with such physical limiters breaking daily, it came to them in a different sort of way.
An Ascended did not grow stronger by reaching the pinnacle of their bodies' physical strength, it certainly helped, but it wasn't what granted them their true strength. What truly grew their powers and capabilities were two simple things.
The understanding of their soul, and the perspective with which they viewed both themselves and the world with.
In that second before his body stepped through the shadows, Artorias au Mávros had not only changed the understanding of his own powers, but also the perspective with which he viewed the abomination.
In his entire life, he had assumed that Fallen Spawn lived and breathed like humans. When they were nothing, but madness and hunger made form. They were alive, sentient even, but they did not live.
No, they were mere imitations of what being alive was. They were puppets that corrupted the very concept of life.
It was this change in his understanding, which had gifted him with the chance to survive.
The abomination screeched suddenly, its six eyes spinning wildly at the sudden pain of something piercing its inhuman body. Reacting entirely on instinct, it twisted in place and raked its claws through the air, hitting nothing but an empty space.
Artorias, who had already passed through the shadows, appeared behind it once again, grabbed onto the hilt of his blade—which had gotten stuck in the abominations body when it had spun around—and pulled with all the enhanced strength he had.
The twisted creature released another ear-piercing screech at the removal, its body hunching over and falling to one knee.
Seeing it for the chance it was, Artorias didn't hesitate. Pushing himself forward, he all but leapt at the abomination, his blade swinging through the air with the certainty of death.
Except, in his excitement, he had forgot one singular thing.
The Corvus Plumatus Validus Spawn was an ambush predator. A twisted and corrupted being with a heinous mind, and the power to kill nearly everything it came across.
What, exactly would stop it from pretending to be injured, just so it could land a decisive strike?
Faster than Artorias could react, the creature twisted and lunged in a mockery of his actions. He only had a moment to see its vicious claws flying at him.
Only had a singular second to realise his death.
When that minute passed, all he saw was darkness.