With the two horns of the hell hound in his pockets, his longsword in its sheath and his throwing knife in hand, he finally let the shadows take him into their empty embrace.
A sigh of relief slipped free when he did.
It was a subconscious reaction from his body, but it startled him. When had he stopped fearing shadows, and instead, started looking forward to entering their empty domain?
Stepping out, he stuck to the darker shadows of the city, moving slowly and cautiously through them. Night was only a few hours away, so he still had some time to find a place to rest.
He couldn't wait to just sit down.
The day had been filled with nothing but fighting and running for his life, surviving harrowing battles which he had no right living through. Maybe it had been all the stress of the day which had changed how he felt.
In this ruined world, you were never safe. Every action might be your last, and any miscalculation would end in you dying.
It was morbid to think, but it was the simple truth of this world.
The strong survived, whilst the weak perished.
This mindset was so deeply engraved in society, that superstition had become heavily integrated into the daily lives of Grade 1 Ascended.
They were, after all, the weakest in the world, only slightly above the mundane humans. With the cards stacked against them from day one, anything and everything was believed in, just for a chance of survival.
It was why Artorias thanked the Dievas for any good fortune that came his way, why he avoided stepping over the cracks in the ground, and didn't look into broken mirrors.
It was exhausting, but it was a belief that was built on true miracles.
The Dievas, whilst aloof in most cases, did occasionally bless certain Ascended with their favours and bonds. It was rare, extremely so, but it happened.
Many people believed that devotion and good luck would grant them an audience with the divine. Artorias didn't know what to believe, but when stuck between a rock and a hard place, with his very life on the line, he tended to follow the example of others.
Like he said before, for a chance of survival, anything and everything was believed in, and he fell into that belief as well.
Life was far too complicated he was learning. It was as cunning as the Corvus Spawn, as deadly and pitiful as the hell hound, and as broken and pained as he was.
The domain of shadows on the other hand, was empty, quiet, almost peaceful. Nothing existed to kill him, nothing was there to challenge him, nothing forced him into a life he didn't want.
It was peaceful.
After the last few weeks and today specifically. All he wanted was an empty space filled with nothing. He wanted some peace and quiet.
Appearing out of another shadow, he reminded himself that he only had one more jump left in him, before he would be pushing both his already taxed body and soul too far.
Limping towards the front doors of a hastily abandoned pharmacy, he kept his knife in a steady grip. Whilst the shaking had finally stopped, his body was still too weak, so if he had to use his knife, it would have to be done with speed and brutality.
Carefully opening one of the doors, his eyes, having long ago adjusted to the dark of the city, scanned the small shop. Thankfully, he found nothing.
"Thank you Dievas," his voice was quiet as he spoke, moving through the small shop with a limp that would hopefully be gone by the next morning.
Getting to the back, he pulled the backpack he had found in the clothes shop before he left, free from his shoulders and began to look through the medicine.
It wasn't anything too big, and he had only spotted it at the last possible second, but it would be enough. Rooting around the shelves, he grabbed any sort of pain medication he could find, filling the bag.
Finding some bandages and plasters, he couldn't stop the small curve of his lips.
Whilst the shirts he had used as replacement had done a good job, they were slowly beginning to loosen and were already soaked in spots of blood.
It wouldn't be enough to attract any unwanted attention, but it was still uncomfortable.
Taking his torn arm out of its sling, he ignored the stab of pain which followed and began to take his clothes off.
Honestly, he had gotten naked far too many times today.
Carefully pulling the sticky shirts off his body, he threw them away in a bin. Finding a small box full of safety pins in the same container as the bandages and plasters he couldn't help but be happy.
Finally, things were beginning to look up.
Pausing at the thought, he rapped his knuckles against a nearby wooden shelf. It was best not to jynx himself, especially after the day he'd had.
It didn't take long for him to get through most of his injuries, with only his stomach causing the most problems. Having covered and wrapped all the wounds he had received from the Corvus Spawn and the hell hound, he finally felt a little better.
Sure, his body hurt from every tiny movement he made, his arm was hanging on by threads of muscle and was crippled. Yes, his mind was pulsing with pain, and his soul was at the weakest it'd ever been since his ascension.
But he was still feeling better. Not by much, but he felt a little more normal, more human.
He didn't feel like a sewer rat as much as he had a few minutes before.
Swallowing some tablets to help with the pain, and with his backpack back in its place, he felt ready to move.
He still had two things left to do before the day was over.
Finding a place to rest and finding some food.
One was arguably more difficult than the other in his current state. But he needed the sustenance that came from eating, so like always, he didn't have much of a choice.
Sighing, he began to move.
Three hours until nightfall and then he would finally be able to rest.