With him no longer having to take his time with following the pack of Elaphus Spawn, he had been able to get back to the abandoned apartment complex in a little less than two hours.
Having abandoned the overcoat in a random alleyway. By the time he had gotten back, he was left a pained shivering mess.
Whilst it was definitely the right choice to make, he had still been regretful to do it.
Not because he had any sentimental value attached to it, far from it, he couldn't care less about the article of clothing. The only reason he had worn it was to stave of the cold.
By the time his Fireteam had left The Eastern Garrison it had been the middle of November. By then the nights had already been enough to leave them all shivering.
With how long he had spent in the concrete maze of ruined Japan, Artorias was sure that December had already arrived and with it, brought colder winds and longer nights.
Already he had counted four to five hours had passed, meaning he still had at least eight to nine hours left before the day arrived.
Even then, his calculations might not be entirely correct.
In Death Zones such as this, many things changed to become unnatural and strange, defying any human logic.
Buildings would rapidly decay, animals and plant life would die, drained of their life force. The skies would turn various shades of grey and black and of course, the Fallen Spawn would arrive.
Usually there would be warning signs.
As far as he knew, Japan hadn't shown any of them.
Entering the room, he had taken for himself, he released a small sigh of relief at seeing it still empty. Putting the bag on his shoulders next to the bed sitting in the corner, he finally felt himself relax.
Taking a seat on the bed, he allowed his body and mind to unwind.
With how close he had come to losing his life today, on various occasions mind you, it was truly a miracle that his mind hadn't yet shattered.
Artorias knew the only thing keeping him alive was his own fear of death. But he had to wonder, would that be enough of a drive to get him out of this nightmare?
With his relationship with his father strained beyond repair, his bond with his elder brother and sister practically non-existent, his mother dead and his uncle all but gone from his life, did he have anything to fight for besides himself?
He had no friends, no allies and a family that barely existed.
Solthia was the closest he had ever gotten to having a friend, and she had died in his arms like the rest of his Fireteam.
Truly his only companion was misery itself.
Shaking his mind to clear such thoughts out of his mind, he tried to focus on something else. Mentally debating his will to live was something that would only bring him more harm than good.
Instead, he focused on his soul.
With the night lasting for so long and the various abominations which only dwelled in the city during such time, he wouldn't be able to cook the meat he had harvested for quite some time.
Which meant he'd just have to wait and occupy his mind with other things. Like his soul and ability to shadow step for example.
Getting himself as comfortable as he possibly could and making sure to keep his healing factor at bay, he pulled his consciousness away from his body and into the deepest parts of himself.
His soul.
When he next opened his eyes, it was to a land covered in darkness and shadows. Like the realm of nothing, his soul had seemed to take inspiration and created a replica of it to reside in.
At first, he had been terrified of it. But after today and his own changing mentality of how he viewed the shadows, it didn't bother him as much as he had thought it would.
It had actually been one of the reasons he had stepped into his soul that night. He needed the peace granted by the realm of shadows, but with how limited his time always was within them due to his ability, he had decided on the next best thing.
Looking up, he couldn't help but marvel over his Soul Core.
When he had originally ascended, his Soul Core had been nothing but a glowing sphere small enough to fit in the palms of his hand.
Now after weeks of being an Ascended and killing abominations which he had no right slaying, it had grown to become what he would deem a true Soul Core to look like.
A burning star.
High in the air, above the limitless shadows it shinned like a radiant sun, casting an ethereal blue glow on both him and his surroundings. Floating around it, rivers of Spirit Energy occasionally dived into and then out of it.
'Huh…am I close to ascending again?'
Ascended had two ways of reaching a new Grade. Either through time or through the act of killing Fallen Spawn.
It acted almost like a video game in that regard.
Depending on your Grade, the higher Rank a Fallen Spawn you killed was, the more Spirit Energy your Soul Core would absorb. Growing stronger until it was ready to divide and create another Soul Core.
In theory, every Ascended with an ability focused on combat would have no issue reaching Grade 7 faster than those who didn't.
But that was only in theory.
In reality, the process was far tougher.
With every advancement of Grade, an Ascended will slowly receive less and less from abominations of a lower Rank than them. Meaning to fully saturate their multiple Soul Cores and advance in Grade, they would have to challenge Fallen Spawn of either an equal or higher level to them.
In other words, the stronger they got, the more difficult it became to rise in power.
His father had once told him it was natures way of balancing things.
Anyways, with Artorias having spent countless weeks as an Ascended and the three separate abominations he had killed of a much higher rank in comparison to him, his Soul Core was starting to reach its Saturation Point.
It wouldn't happen for some time. But that was only if he avoided fighting anything more than the Rank of Beast. A Rank below the Rank of Monster. Naturally, with time and some patience, it would reach its apex within a month or two.
Happy with his progress, even if most of it was done through suffering and pain, he focused on the true reason he had appeared in his soul.
His ability to step through shadows.
He knew that an Ascended only grew their powers through their understanding and perspective of both the world and themselves.
But for his soul to have reacted the way it did when he had grabbed onto the Elaphus Spawn had been too significant to ignore.
Sitting down on the cold shadows beneath him, he got as close as he possibly could to a meditative position with his injuries so prominent and began to focus.
Ascended didn't have little windows to tell them any relevant information, so instead, they had to learn how to listen.
Their soul was a part of them, but it was hidden, buried beneath thoughts, emotions, feelings, memories and everything else that made a human, well, a human.
The soul was the truest part of oneself after all and within it, laid all the answers one would seek about themselves. An Ascended' abilities came from their Soul Cores, and Soul Cores were the soul given spiritual form.
He had never attempted it before, being too afraid of what his soul had shaped itself to be. But now, he felt prepared, he felt ready.
The shadows no longer followed his every step as a reminder of death. No, they were his life now, his answer to surviving in this twisted world.
So, he sat there.
He let his body relax.
Allowed his mind to rest.
He breathed in.
Then breathed out.
Within the peace of the shadows, he let go.
He didn't know when his thoughts began to drift off. He didn't notice how the pain and stress, his constant companion of the day melted away.
Feelings soon became hollow, emotions felt like nothing.
The shadows took them all away, his soul warmed his body one moment, then vanished in the next. It didn't disappear; it simply stopped existing.
Just like him.
He felt nothing.
He was nothing.
He was shapeless.
Artorias…
Who was Artorias?
He was nothing.
He was shapeless.
He was a shadow.
A dark passenger in an empty world.
But who was Artorias?
He was nothing.
But who was Artorias?
He was shapeless.
But who was Artorias?
Nothing.
Artorias…he was…something wasn't he?
No.
He was shapeless.
But…he was something-
It was only his fear of death, his strangely powerful desire to survive which saved him.
Desires, dreams, fears, emotions, love, hate, happiness, misery, pain, survival, pain, hunger, pain, thoughts, pain, pain, pain, pain.
It all came crashing into him like a tidal wave.
He lurched awake.
Away from his soul, away from the nothing, away from the invading thought of being shapeless.
His entire body burned, his mind ached, a pounding headache which he could feel in his teeth rattling through him.
His wounds hissed, his healing factor working desperately to fix all the damage he had sustained.
Through it all, he laid on the ground, hunched over, in pain and covered in sweat. A set of words being harshly spoken through gritted teeth.
"I am Artorias au Mávros, I am Artorias au Mávros, I am Artorias au Mávros…"
On and on he went, through his bleeding gums, through the tears falling down his cheeks, through the terrible pain his body was experiencing. He repeated those same words over and over again.
"I am Artorias au Mávros."