In an old cemetery covered by ash many coffins and graves were spread across the hills and natural passages. The sky was yellowish with some pieces of white mixed in, perhaps a signal of the incoming dawn or perhaps darkness. Dead trees with gnarled branches stood amidst the graves as if making company for the sorry souls of the fallen. In a far away corner of the cemetery the lid of a rocky coffin fell to the ground with a thud. A humanoid form soon emerged, slowly and lazily until it stood straight. Grains of ash fell off the shoulders and hands, leaving a grey pile on the entity´s legs.

The being gave quick breaths as it took notice of its current state. The person wore a knight´s armor, the helmet, leggings and left gauntlet made of solid steel while the right hand was covered by a leather glove. The torso was protected by a dark blue vest which hid an iron chainmail underneath and the borders and chest were decorated with golden symbols. In the waist the knight had a set of belts carefully linked together with pouches of different sizes. The head was well protected by a fully closed steel helmet with a movable visor while the neck was protected from the cold by a faded red scarf.

"Where…am I?" a young male voice spoke as the knight looked around. "The last thing I remember is pain, lots of pain. A burning sensation driving me mad…Where is the Kiln? Where is Gwyn?!" he asked stepping out of the coffin.

The warrior felt something heavy in his right hand. When he looked at it he noticed he was holding a large greatsword made of a black metal. The handle was long to allow the use of both hands during swings, the cross guards were slightly pointed upwards, a crest of sorts adorned the rain guard and two small metal pieces adorned the fuller. The blade itself was mostly black while the cutting edge was abnormally white.

The knight looked at his left hand, he was holding a large dagger. The black undulating blade was covered by tiny white thorns and he could see tiny purple bubbles forming on some of the white thorns from time to time.

"At least I got you two with me." the knight smiled as he looked at his belt, his smile faded as soon as he noticed he wasn´t carrying his most important item. "Where´s my Estus Flask?" he asked looking for the sacred recipient that literally saved his life hundreds of times.

Feeling the anxiety building he put the black dagger on his belt and placed the hand over his chest. He searched into the bottom of his soul for the flask but not only he didn´t find it but also noticed that most of his utility items were missing as well. Fortunately the bottomless box was still there but he needed to reach a bonfire to unlock it and access his remaining arsenal.

"Seems this isn´t my day, although it usually isn´t." the knight said as he tried to raise the greatsword. When he only managed to keep it on a horizontal level his face sulked even more. "Why can´t I lift it? I clearly remember being able to." he tried holding it with both hands and finally managed to keep it in a vertical position. "Weird…" he mumbled lowering the sword.

The knight remembered that he was also carrying the dagger and so released the sword and held the dark dagger in his right hand. When he tried to do a quick succession of attacks his feet failed him and he tripped, falling on the ash-covered ground.

"I´m guessing I can´t use miracles or spells either, gods must hate me. Of course they hate me, I killed them." he said standing up again.

Having no other choice the warrior stored the greatsword deep inside his soul, he couldn´t afford to lose this relic, and decided to use the dagger in the meantime even if he wasn´t skilled enough to do complex moves. As he tried to recall the name of the black blade he found a gap in his memories. His brow furrowed as he searched his memories for the name of the dagger but was ultimately unsuccessful.

"What was it called? I know it is black something. Black Talon? No. Dark Blade? Not going to call it that, she would hate me. Ah screw it, I´m going to call you Ciaran´s dagger. I´m not risking forgetting about you." he said.

Finally "ready" to start the journey the undead marched forward with weapon in hand. He went through a small valley, the graves always present on the sides. He didn´t bother to check them or the overall surroundings. The warrior didn´t even bother to check if the flooded ground was just a pool of water or a hole leading to a lake nor if there was a flying creature diving at him. He only stopped when he saw a figure standing close to a wall, clearly humanoid in form.

The person wore black robes completed with a hood and cape. They were surprisingly in good condition with just some small ripped edges. Something caught the attention of the undead knight. The man´s skin was greyish unlike the characteristic brown color common to the undead and his eyes were two dark pits of nothingness just like his own during his time in Lordran. It was clear as the First Flame that this individual was hollow.

The knight cautiously approached the man, the dagger ready to be used and the left hand relaxed for any incoming attacks. After just three steps the hollow decided it was close enough and charged at the knight with broken sword ready to impale his body. The knight caught the arm of the hollow with his free hand and easily stabbed his opponent´s guts twice, slaying the poor undead in an instant. As the warrior gazed down at the corpse by his feet he saw a shadow approaching from the left. He made a quick spin and slashed another hollow in the chest but when he performed the second spin he lost balance and fell on top of the fallen undead.

"I REALLY need to remember that I´m rusty." the warrior said as he recovered himself.

When the knight looked around he took notice of a more open space with two stone walls in the distance forming a narrow passage to the other side. A stone monument was just a few steps from where he stood, a faint light in front of it caught the knight´s attention, luring him closer like a flame attracting a moth. When he approached the source of light he recognized the form of a knight resting on a stone bowl sustained by a rocky pillar. The corpse had the same armor he was currently wearing, an old blue shield on the left hand and a straight sword on the right. In the belt the fallen knight had two flasks of different colors, one was a cold and light blue and the other a vibrant yellow with a bit of orange mixed in.

"Estus flasks, what a coincidence." the knight said pillaging both flasks. He looked at the blue one with curiosity, he had never seen this type of flask before. "The yellow one restores health but I don´t remember ever getting a blue one. Hey Oscar, do you know something…" he stopped talking when he realized that Oscar, his savior, had gone hollow a long time ago.

Sorrow filled the warrior´s heart, he had forgotten about his savior almost a day after his escape of the Asylum. Oscar was the one that actually saved the world, if it wasn´t for him then he wouldn´t have escaped and accomplished his task. After hanging both flasks at the right side of his belt he bowed to the fallen knight, thinking of him as both Oscar and another named knight of Astora.

"You have my gratitude, may you stay dead in the future." he said.

Since undead would revive again and again in an eternal cycle of rebirth the knight wished eternal rest for his fellow undead wherever he found someone he knew or got an useful item from a corpse. After realizing what just happened he clenched his fists, the hands shaking as the anger built up with such potency that even the Flame of Chaos would pale in comparison.

"Frampt, you dirty serpent. You lied to me!" he shouted to the sky with all the power he had.

The man kneeled on the ground, he slammed both fists at the stone tablets and remained on that position as he allowed himself to cry on that spot.

"Was it all for nothing?! Oscar, Siegmeyer, Solaire, Rhea, all the undead before me! Were their deaths FOR NOTHING?!" the knight raised his head and looked at his left hand. When he took off the leather glove he observed the burnt flesh, it was the same dark brown he was used to see in all hollows during his journey. "I´m still undead, not even I was freed from the curse." he said gritting his teeth.

The knight stood up and proceeded to throw random punches as he allowed the fury to take over him. After about five minutes he finally ran out of air and had to take deep breaths to recover his stamina.

"No, something must have changed. My entire journey should have changed at least something, saved at least one life." his gaze fell upon his chest, he saw a dark silver pendant with an intricate crest in the middle hanging over the blue vest. "Yes! That´s it! I defeated the Four Kings and freed Artorias. I stopped Manus and the spread of the abyss. I may have not cured the undead curse but at least I stopped the spread of the dark." the knight thought as he clutched the silver pendant.

"But why am I here? Was I resurrected by a necromancer? I should see him if that´s the case. Another time travel portal, maybe? There should be a reason, I`m sure someone knows the answers." the knight put on the leather glove and grabbed Ciaran´s dagger from his belt.

"Flasks, ok; weapons, ok; objective, fixed; armor, in good shape. Now all I need is the good an' old bonfire." the knight said stretching his arms.

After being ambushed by three hollows, one wielding a crossbow, the knight passed through the opening between two great walls of stone. The path lead across a cliff side, the sky clearly visible from this position. In the distance he could see mountains on a lower level with a fog of sorts enveloping most of them.

"Reminds me of the Prison…" he chuckled at the memories. "I hope there isn´t another chaos demon waiting for me." the knight looked at the right.

A giant mountain stood firm and proud in the right, the wall replete with stone buildings. Some appeared to be corridors, some were pillars, others were towers and on the upper half it seemed that a stone wall was built atop the mountain.

"Reminds me of Izalith and Anor Londo. I wonder if they´re still okay." the knight shook his head. "I´m getting too distracted, where´s the bonfire?" he looked to the left and followed the path of the cliff.

Surprisingly enough he found the heavenly resting spot just a few steps away close to the rocky wall. The ground was relatively even and after a quick inspection no enemies were found hiding too close to it. The knight sat in front of the flames and left the dagger on the ground for the moment. Unlike common humans that used a bonfire to warm themselves and tell stories undead used these special bonfires to restore their health and prepare themselves for the surely hard journeys they had.

One thing caught the attention of the knight, the flame of the bonfire was meek and small, unlike the ones he used to see in the bonfires of Lordran. Thankfully it still healed his fatigue and mind and for now this was enough for him. Remembering to get the box inside his soul the knight put it down and allowed the gentle flame to lick the chest´s lock, a click came and soon the lid opened by itself.

At first the chest itself was apparently big enough to accommodate a large book or two at best but the truth was that it created a large white vortex when opened that could consume objects of any size, from keys to large battle axes and even a person if the owner wasn´t careful enough. Anything and everything could be stored inside the chest, hence the name "bottomless box". The only downside was that only the fire of the bonfire was able to unlock it and the lid would instantly close if the chest was moved too far away from the flames (a characteristic that cut the hands of many thieves in the earlier days).

The warrior pulled a shield from the magical chest, one he was very fond of and which had helped him against many foes in the past. A medium sized metal shield painted in blue with a golden crest in the middle. The Crest Shield originated from Astora, his homeland, and was particularly resistant to magic attacks. After checking all of the available weapons the knight pondered over his choices.

"What should I use? A spear? Halberd? Longsword? Greatsword? Axe? Let´s see if I can lift a claymore…" the warrior said placing his hand in the white vortex.

From the magical container he retrieved a very long sword, the blade white and thin when compared to the heavy black sword he had when he first awoke. The design was simple but effective: A common cross guard, a leather covered hilt and a sharpened blade to cut and pierce foes.

"Good, I can wield this." he said lifting the sword with just one hand, he pulled out the black greatsword from his soul and stared at the weapon with regret. "Sorry Sif but we can´t fight together for now." he said placing the greatsword inside the box.

The knight closed the chest and put it back inside his body. He stared at the frail flame of the bonfire with curiosity. A strange feeling inside told him that something was wrong with the fire but he couldn´t tell exactly what it was. His mind wasn´t at its prime and the only thing that he could think of was that the bonfire should be old and that´s why the flame had diminished so much. Feeling no need to stay there any longer the undead rose from the ground and resumed his journey.

The knight proceeded with his shield raised and sword over the shoulder. A few hollows entered his path but he blocked each and every attack and then swung the large sword to the sides to cut them in half in a single sweep. Now he stood in front of a stone gate, two torches lit on the sides as if greeting any newcomer. The undead passed through the gate and then analyzed his surroundings. It was a circular clearing that descent into a lower level. The ground was covered by old bricks but many were broken or missing. In the left he could spot many candles, graves and even a giant coffin resting by the side of a dead tree. In the horizon he could see a building on top of a hill, a tower in the left with a giant bell on the top.

"When the bell rings the fate of the undead you shall know…" he looked at the building with a frown. "Please tell me Nito didn´t wake up too." the knight said as he looked at the giant open coffin, dark memories rushed back and the undead had to shake his head to clean his mind.

As his eyes swept the area a figure caught his attention. A man wearing metal armor seemed to be kneeling in the center of the area, a spear or sword apparently by his side. From the distance it was impossible to determinate wherever he was dead or just praying and so curiosity took over the undead knight.

"Hey you! Are you okay?!" the undead asked rushing towards the figure.

When he came close enough he noticed that what he saw from afar wasn´t a spear on his side but instead a very long coiled sword, not too much different from the swords of the bonfires, impaled over his chest. A large metallic halberd was stuck diagonally on the ground by the giant´s side. Judging by the lack of response and the clearly fatal wound the undead judged him dead.

"I guess everybody isn´t as lucky as me. For Gwyn´s beard you´re huge, maybe taller than Gwyn himself." the undead said taking a step back. "I guess you won´t need this sword anymore…" he grabbed the hilt of the coiled sword but stopped before pulling the sword.

A memory flashed over the knight´s mind. The image of chaotic flames, raging eyes, familiar clothes and a cry of anger. He looked back at the corpse in front of him and then decided to leave the sword alone.

"What was I thinking? I´m not even at my best and was about to make him angry." he shook his head as he passed by the fallen warrior.

But soon enough he reached the other side of the area where another gate was erected. This time the door was closed with no sign of locks. The undead tried to push it with all his might but no matter how hard he tried the door wouldn´t budge.

"Don´t tell me he has the key." the knight of Astora looked back at the corpse of the fallen warrior, something caught his attention.

He quickly returned to the corpse and stared at the man´s back. On the left shoulder existed a small package of pitch black tendrils. They seemed to be growing out of the left side of his back, the tendrils slightly moving up and down in a regular pace. The knight bit his lips, he knew exactly the nature of the dark tendrils.

"Abyss…he´s infected by the dark. Could it be that he killed himself to prevent it from taking him over?" the warrior lifted his claymore with both hands to impale the tendrils the hardest he could. "It seems I will be needing Sif more than I thought." he said to himself as he leaned back.

A geyser of black blood erupted from the fallen warrior´s back, his head jerked upwards as his hand snatched the halberd from the ground. As he stood up the tendrils exploded into a giant mass of darkness, taking over the warrior´s upper half in just seconds and expanding even more. The knight from Astora backed away as he watched the tendrils grow into enormous proportions, the front forming a snake´s head with two red glowing eyes and a wooden like claw erupting from the side.

"Crap…" the knight said as he placed the shield on his back and held the claymore with both hands.

The monster loomed over the knight with piercing eyes. It slowly approached its prey by using the lower half of its host. The beast screeched in hatred as it used the lower half of the corpse to jump high into the air and land right over the knight of Astora.

Notes:

I enjoy watching Dark Souls´ veterans go through DS3 blind. The faces they make when they realize a connection or see a familiar face always make me smile (especially with EpicNameBro). But I didn´t want to create another "player goes into the game" story, there´s already some of them. So I thought: "What if the Chosen Undead awakened in the Cemetery of Ash?" and started from this idea. The cool thing is that it is totally possible since Lords of Cinder are called to link the fire from time to time when no one is powerful enough to do it.

Of course, since the main character is "special" the story will be "slightly" different.