He didn't know how long he stayed like that. His body slumped over the dead abomination, feeling as if he was no longer flesh and bone but instead pure lead, covered in sweat and a combination of his and the creature's blood.
His body shook from exhaustion; his wounds thrumming steadily in time with his heartbeat. The Corvus Spawn hadn't killed him, but it had marked him enough times that he could very well end up dead soon.
Four sets of claw marks had tore through his flesh at the start of their fight after all, and if he didn't move soon, then something else would come here looking for its next meal.
He hated it. He hated all of this.
The abominations, his need to survive, his very own ascension.
He didn't want to spend his life fighting; he didn't want to sleep with a blade in his hands. He didn't want his every step, every breath, every thought, to feel like it would be his last.
A part of him wished he had just accepted his death when fighting the Corvus Spawn. But another part of him, the one which feared the end still fought, still raged in his soul, all but begging him to keep moving.
He hated that part of himself just as much as he hated the rest of this world. Because out of his entire family, he was the only one who didn't want to ascend, and yet, he had the most potential out of them all.
His father, that blasted man, had been all too pleased to hear those words. He knew, more than anybody else, that Artorias clung to his life stronger than he held onto anything else.
'Ah, I really hate that bastard…'
Nonetheless, they were right.
He was a coward who feared death.
So even when his body protested, even when blood dripped freely from his already stained form, he pushed forward. Because clinging to life was all that he knew in this world.
Plucking a larger feather from the abominations body, he used it almost like a tissue to clean the blood on his blade. It was just easier, and he was too tired to care whether it was disrespectful or not.
The thing had tried to kill him, if anything, what he had done to it wasn't enough.
Shaking his head with a sigh, he cleared his mind of such thoughts. He was a son of a Great House, he had been raised better than to entertain such petty thoughts.
Finally deeming his blade to be clean enough, he carelessly dropped the feather and attached his sword to his hip. Casting one last glance at the abomination's carcass, he leaned down and plucked a smaller feather this time.
He wanted a souvenir to remember this by, whatever had shifted in his mind during the battle had been the cause of his victory, so keeping it as a permanent reminder on him would probably help in the battles he knew would come.
Deeming himself ready, he shifted on his foot and let the shadows take him away.
When he appeared again, it was in the shadow of the large skyscraper from before, right next to the red mark he had been looking for before the Corvus Spawn had found him.
Readying himself, he melded into the shadows and began to move like a wraith once more. Appearing and disappearing from one shadow and into another at speeds which made him look like a blur.
He headed east; towards the direction the arrow had been pointing to. If he remembered correctly, there were at least three clothes shops that they had passed on their way, and even a small pharmacy.
It would slow his journey down by quite a bit, but if he wanted to survive, then stemming the bleeding until his wounds healed naturally was a priority, just as having new clothes would be.
As he was, literally anything would be able to track his blood-soaked body. He'd be surprised if something hadn't already caught onto his scent. Either way, he was on a timer.
Fortunately, lady luck was smiling upon him today.
There, after half an hour of travelling, stood one of the three stores they had walked past. It was as cracked and chipped as the rest of the buildings in this city, with its welcome sign half attached to its front, and half embedded in the ground at the entrance.
He remembered Solthia in particular, being saddened about its broken-down state, mentioning how she and some of her friends used to go shopping there all the time when they were younger.
She'd told him that once they purged this city of the abominations, she'd make sure to restore it back to its former glory.
He remembered believing her, remembered telling her that he'd even help her. Until he had her dying body in his arms, half of her face burnt yet wearing a strained smile for him to remember-
He came to a stop with a shuddering breath, hidden in the shadows, he squeezed his eyes to stop the memory from resurfacing. The four slash marks over his left eye thrumming in pain at the motion.
Artorias held onto that pain, desperate to not feel the ache in his chest. Now was not the time to get lost in his memories. Now was the time to survive, to make her sacrifice have some meaning.
A moment later, he stepped through the shadows. His already tired body hurting from an entirely different pain.
Appearing under the shadow of the welcome sign, he pulled his longsword out quietly. Keeping his survival at the forefront of his mind, he scanned the inside of the store through its large broken windows.
When nothing leapt out at him, and he was greeted with silence, he cautiously made his way through the broken front doors. His longsword poised and his shadows at the ready.
Knowing that he was on a time limit, and that danger could be around any corner, he moved and picked up any clothes that were within reach.
By the time he had reached the back, where a singular changing room sat, he was sure that nothing was in there with him. Still, he was cautious and getting changed in a changing room with only a cloth to hide him didn't seem too safe.
So instead, he moved to a door a little off to the side, where a large label detailed it as a staff room sat prominently.
"Thank the Dievas…" he muttered as the door revealed to be unlocked. With some clothes on his right shoulder, and some combat boots in the crook of his arm he slowly moved to where the toilets were located.
Stepping in, he released a breath he hadn't known he was holding. It was empty, and as he had hoped, the door had a lock on it. Flicking it, he finally allowed his body to relax.
His mind felt too heavy, his body was dirty and itchy from his wounds healing, and his soul was slowly dwindling in energy with how many times he had used his ability today.
He needed to get changed and quickly, if something was tracking him, well, he'd probably die. He couldn't afford to fight right now.
Taking off the countless layers covering his body, he ignored the biting cold which tried to invade his bones. Trying the tap for some water, he couldn't help but grin when a small stream came flowing out.
"Yes," he moved eagerly, excited at his discovery.
Cupping his hands, he let some of the water coalesce in his palm before drinking it. It tasted disgusting, and he was sure it was full of vicious bacteria that would try to do him harm.
But with no reliable source of food or water, he'd have to simply deal with it. As an Ascended, his body was immune to any infections anyways, so all it would do was taste like water soaked in mud.
After taking a few gulps and splashing his face with it. He finally moved onto cleaning his wounds. Getting all but naked was an uncomfortable sensation, but it was just another thing he had to deal with.
Before his shadows had saved his life in the initial clash against the Corvus Spawn, it had moved quickly enough to leave wounds on his body with all four of its terrible hands.
Looking into the small, chipped mirror, he couldn't help but grimace at what looked back at him.
With practically no food to sustain him, he looked gaunt, his cheeks sunken and his skin lost of any vibrancy. He looked as pale as snow, and his body had lost many of its muscles.
His hair, as dark as the night, had grown scruffy and tangled. A bird's nest which reached the back of his neck and extended out to cover his ears and forehead.
But it was his eyes that truly put into perspective how much he had suffered in this ruined city. Once they were vibrant gold, now they were dull.
They were dead.