Images assaulted the mind, while words of echoed beyond. A disgusting alien noise tore at the ears. Lights flickered. Blood rained. The Moon had been pierced. It's hatred reigned victorious. All was remade… in it's image.

Golden eyes slowly opened, revealing lifeless golden water.

The shift in weight marked that these eyes belonged to a body. And the body belonged to the soul residing within. This life, as the common identifying feature of man would know, was alive. And alive it noticed as it's own chest heaved. A heartbeat marked such a contract of life.

It sat up on it's bum. Legs were bent at the knee while the back was erect tall. The arms were dangling at its sides. It's chin, clothed by a kind of black mask, was tilted up.

It… was alive.

And "it" was a "he".

He was alive.

The Good Hunter, was alive.

All things being considered, he damn well shouldn't be. And confusion wouldn't be a word to describe his current mindset.

Although, there was one thing that the male himself knew for sure. He still held no knowledge of who he was. And he still donned the Hunters Attire. As well as the weaponry he had scattered abroad the area he lie within.

Growling, the man coughed while trying to get to his feet. His gloved hands were used as support, aiming to keep his frame stable while using his boted feet to act as a way to push himself up to full height.

He staggered after reaching full height and began to crumble back down, like a wall falling to foreign invaders.

Catching himself using his right hand, the Hunter simply put his left upon his bent knee.

Why was he so exhausted?

It would take him a moment to catch his breath.

Strange.

Glancing around and looking past his scattered weapons, the Hunter's bright golden eyes caught the sight of… well… a forest.

But to be more specific and less broad, trees. Many of them. Bright green grass and dirt the healthy color of brown.

His head anchored up towards the sky.

It was blocked out. The amount of green he saw from the leaves and branches, blocked out the shine of the sun. And even the barely visible blue sky.

One thought came to the Hunters mind and it sent a soothing chill through his cold body.

It was morning. And if it was morning then the Hunt was over. And if that was the case then the contract was now void.

Meaning…

"No…," His voice was only a whisper. "more…?"

His gloved right hand left the dirt ground slowly. His fingers began to gain height.

Up to his chest.

Parallel to his face.

Over his head.

Underneath the living sky.

His fingers shook.

The Good Hunter was… well… he felt many things.

Anger being the emotion boiling over.

But as of the moment he felt something more. Lowering his hand down, the Hunter moved himself over to the closets weapon available to him. It was what is known to some as a gun. A handgun. But something about its shape, length, and girth made it look odd.

Well this was the case because it was colored gold and silver. And it held a strange addition to the connecting area of the grip and barrel.

The Good Hunter never once acknowledge this handgun with his eyes. Not notifying how complex it was. Or how it belonged to the Healing Church Hunters.

It was only acknowledge once.

As he noticed how much damage it could produce.

Never again.

With his left he holstered it upon the inner holster underneath his coat. It was concealed and hidden. Only ever used for split second surprise attacks.

A few steps away was the next weapon he'd implore.

This was a weapon of eastern origin. The blade and it's sheath being curved to an extent. The handle of the sword itself was crafted nicely and with care. It slept with it's sheath upon the grassy floor.

Carrying himself over to it with amounting to only stumbling once; it was within his hands.

He was still for a few moments.

That hatred, it surged within him. The Queen glaring at him with equal hate. He didn't care. No care. No acknowledgement. The deaths of the many. The slaughter of the women. Severing of limbs. The king falling to his knees.

The sheath was situated upon in his hip. A distant hate for all that inhabit Yharnam. It may of been finished, but all the fighting he's done to earn the freedom to live, was hate inducing.

No… that hate plunge his heart into the madness. The innocent and kindharted turned to prey by the vermin.

That pain which the Hunter of Hunters took up to keep the innocent from being killed by their protectors.

His eyes widened inhumane like. The beast he should of turned into never came for him. He too should of turned to one. But instead, his madness only poured into the ocean, and became power for him.

The Good Hunter hated all associated with the very existence of the Dream and Nightmare.

Slow steps carried him to the next weapon, that rested by a tree to his west.

It was a thin straight bladed sword stabbed into the ground. A much bigger blade was beside it. Both stabbed into the ground next to the tree.

With his right hand, he snatched it from the ground.

Looking it over he took a peek over at the bigger blade. Slick would be the right word to use as the Good Hunter slide the sword into the side of the enormous blade.

With no effort in his pull, the sword now turned greatsword, was over head. One hand upon the handle. His gaze upon the skyborn sword was of disinterest.

Before it was high in the sky.

Now it was upon his back.

Glancing to look behind himself his eye caught sight of the last weapon.

From prior knowledge of the Good Hunter, the contraption itself was known as a rifle. It was lengthy if one could point something out about it. Another thing as well was the fact that it held no stock. And nothing to grip with ones other hand. It strictly supported single hand use. An odd function for a rifle to have.

He decided he'd hold the rifle instead of holstering it.

Weaponry counted for.

Location however was still unknown.

Ammunition?

The Good Hunter moved to check where he kept his rounds. His right hand flicked open a chest pouch underneath his grey coat. From what he could tell… he was topped off.

And of his satual?

Looking around the immediate area he found nothing.

An aggravated growl was let loose. He'd need to find it stat. It held all his belongings. Everything he still held onto, or needed, to deal with the… vermin, was within that satual.

From Blood Vials, to Sedatives, Molotovs, and many more dangerous tools and trinkets, even clothing, Chalices, Caryll Runes, Blood Gems, and various materials to assist him hunt.

Closing his eyes the angered man began to think. His scowl was the only thing visible and it deepened the more he questioned and thought.

The air was fresh.

No blood.

A forest.

The sun was in the sky.

But not in Yharnam.

His fingers clenched upon the rifle he held. Adgervating and rageinducing was this situation he was in.

He'd love to believe he was in Yharnam, but something in his hate filled heart told him he wasn't.

As much as he walked through that city with wrath on his sleeves, killing anything and anyone that attacked him any sort of way, he knew he that the beginning of him opening his eyes and seeing that he was laid out within a forest was strange.

He knew better.

Gehrman himself admitted to his face, before he died, that he wasn't expecting him to be… "Too angry to die". The Good Hunter had to admit his surprise, that since his time in the Hunt of Yharnam, he'd been told that many times.

First from the Crow herself; Eileen.

The second from the Chapel Dweller.

Third from that Spider.

Fourth from Gascoigne, when he had dealt with the beast upon that bridge.

Each one of them held the thought of him turning into a beast. But as time passed, his madness peeked. And nothing happened, while either the rest died, or became beasts themselves.

Such an odd thing.

A shake of his head.

Currently he was in unknown territory. Without anything but his weaponry. If he was going to rely on his instinct, then he couldn't have any doubts. First objective would be to search the area for his satual. After that he'd scout out any living things.

Be it beast, human, or animal.

(Zack Hemsey - Vengeance Start 00:00)

His steps were careful and slow. The rifle held in the left hand moved to the rhythm of his motion. His right bare but he flexed his fingers. The desire to wrap his fingers around somethings neck grew.

There wasn't anything around. Only the occasional chirping of birds. That was all.

For most, the silence would be hell. The Hunter himself didn't find comfort in it. However he didn't shun it away.

His head was notched down so his hat covered his eyes.

Stepping over a fallen tree then ducking his head underneath some hanging vines.

Time and again, he noticed that he would be fighting off anything that attacked. But so far there wasn't anything.

Odd.

Wherever he was, it was still unknown. But when he awoken back several miles back he noted that there wasn't any foot steps. Nor a lamp post. How he got here wasn't natural.

With no personal memories before coming to Yharnam for the treatment only, he was simply no-one. He held no name. No family. Nothing. He rarely talked at that.

So when he was found with the deadly sickness that plagued all of Yharnam, he was left with only one objective.

An elder who found him at the time had informed him that he held little time of life, and that Yharnam was his best bet at staving off the sickness.

He listened. Got some new clothing. Then left to Yharnam.

But there was one thing he knew about.

That...

That in the end.

It was cow shit.

(Zack Hemsey - Vengeance continue 01:56)

His heartbeat was echoing within his hearing.

It was all that was within his ears.

The Hunter growled. He seethed in rage.

He was angry. Angry about the lives lost. Angry about the very source of the surge of madness. Angry about the damn contract. Angry about the hunters. Angry about the blood. Angry about the actions he had committed! To force himself into believing were right!

This hate, This anger, This rage, This wrath, The vengeance.

These emotions and thoughts. These feelings and actions. They swirled around him. Images of smiles. Both genuine happiness and corrupted madness.

He took another step up a small hill. It was a clearing that lead away from the forest. Another step followed. Another. Another. Another.

He climbed higher. A beat that went unheard to his ears. His eyes bore into nothingness. His body only going forward.

The flash of fire clouded his forefront mind.

The piece of cloth covering his mouth began to meld with the darkness his hat had cast.

A maul. A maul belonging to a beast.

His eyes were bloodshot. His pupils dilating. Veins cracked and worked their way around his forehead and eyes.

He hated Yharnam and ALL associated with it.

A rumbling within.

The various beasts throwing themselves at anyone unlucky victim.

The image of a girl. Her skull smashed in. Her legs broken. Blood.

Blood...

(Zack Hemsey - Vengeance- 04:45)

Bood

He reached the top of the hill. The shine of the sun greeted him in a flash. His coat shuffling from the sudden movement of the wind. Off in the distance he saw towers. Larger then most.

A city.

He spotted birds flocking in groups flying within the sky.

He saw machines alongside them.

He stood tall. His coat ruffling.

His eyes dilating.

The burning house.

The old man's pained gasps.

The dying crow.

The girl asking him to find her father and mother.

The whore.

The baby's cry.

The moon.

Cutting himself free from its hands.

Denying the very world.

Killing the Great One.

All these events only blended into memories. Memories that he'd only have. And now with the hunt finished. His silent vengeance claimed. He'd gladly embrace death…

Alone.

Briefly. A crow shot up from below. It's talons raised. His shout and shredded feathers obscured his sight and he gave it his attention. Only lifting up his rifle.

He pulled the trigger.

And a new future became his absolute fate.

(Zack Hemsey - Vengeance End)

3 Years Later

"Hey…"

All was black within his vision. His chest heaved up and down.

"Wake… up…" He felt small hands upon his shoulder. His body rocked back, then forward.

His eyes twitched. His conscious was being retrieved. His body moved back then forth. A groan.

"Ahhh! Come on wake up!" That voice.

Golden eyes opened. A yawn.

"Ew! Daddy's breath stinks!"

He felt the tiny arms leave him and he moved himself up using his hands. He sat with his legs crossed and his hand upon his face. Rubbing his forehead and pinching the bridge of his nose.

The man looked down at what he wore. he was an all black shirt and equally black shorts, the man slouched forward for a second. His long black hair had fallen over his face like a cascading waterfall.

He felt weight upon his back and small hands wrapping around his throat.

Ah… it was Ukio. Like always.

"...?" A groan was what he let rumble from his throat.

"Daddy it's almost seven and you haven't said happy birth day yet!"

As soon as he was about to speak to the little girl upon his back the distant sound of ring came to his and the girls ears.

"Ah! They're here! Daddy they're here! They're here! They're here!"

Immediately she had let go and hurried off. He looked to his right only seeing brown hair vanish in the last second behind the door to the bedroom.

"..." Reaching up the man groaned again and rubbed his long black hair. He kicked his feet over the edge of his bed and his brown feet met the nice even temperature of the carpet floor.

Allowing his arms to rest upon his knees the man's eyes closed.

Standing up from his bed, he moved over to his closet and opened it taking out a button white shirt. Then some black slacks. Quietly he moved to the bathroom to get himself ready to start the new day.

Unaware of the closet being left open and the sight of an black set of clothes with a hat neatly kept was visible.

"Henrietta that's not fair! It's my birthday!"

"It's not fair for you to shout so loud. My ears hurt."

Within the kitchen of the house two small girls were at each other's throats. They both wore a type of dress that differed to them both.

One notable feature they had was the different color in hair.

Henrietta, a light bluish white haired five year old, was holding a pink bunny within her hands. She stared at the other girl.

"Loud!?" This act made Henrietta flinch and the other occupant within the room to flinch as well.

However the third body within the room had awoken from the loud shout of the young brown haired girl.

"Ughh… you brats are so loud…"

""Brats!?"" Both girls shouted at the top of their lungs causing the older of them to flinch and wine.

Within the door frame of the kitchen, stood the golden eyed father. He didn't smile nor did he show any visible reflection to the three females within his Kitchen.

The young girls went and began to shout at the older one until he finally let out a sigh. His actions next made known of his presence. With both his hands, he grabbed the two and lifted them up by their heads. Both letting out a surprised yelp and the third saying a sleepy 'thank you'.

His look alone said the words he should of verbally used.

But they understood him without saying such things.

"Daddy!?"

A nod of his head.

"M-mr. Hunter?" He looked to her.

Ah yes.

He almost forgot that he named himself after the title he earned as being a Hunter.

Glancing at the two children silently then cocking a brow at the resident granny, he sighed and lightly placed them back.

"Daddy?"

Again as he was about to speak the bell rung.

Ah. Must be more people…

And Ukio was off in a full sprint towards the door. Right behind her was Henrietta. Someone yawned. And he turned to give the old lady his fullest attention.

"Why did I even… agree…" Before she could continue, she began to nod off once again.

He sword he saw literal Z's exiting her mouth.

Turning away from the old elder, Hunter left the room to look for a blanket. He returned and placed the cloth up in the lady and muttered some words.

In this she cracked open an eye and she nodded her head.

He tucked her in and turned to follow his daughter and her friend.

Hunter, was the name he had picked. Hunter was a father of an adopted little girl. Hunter had a high paying job. Hunter knew various languages. Hunter was…

Not from this world.

Hunter wasn't human, as he was crossing the line between Beast and Man. But he was what he was.

He came from a land not native to this existence.

Gods like the Great Ones were vastly different here. And those who were worshippers evolved into what they are today.

Then entirety of humanity became something else he would never thought possible.

Without the use of Arcane or even the assistance with foreign Gods, humanity relied upon machinery and themselves. And unlike his own thoughts, they became known as the dominant existence upon the floating rock in this so-called… space.

They've discovered. They've developed, they've become their own kind of Great One.

They need no mystics, nor the assistance for humanity did so on their own. Throughout trial and error. They've gained flight. Reached the heavens and beyond.

But…

They became their own kind of beasts. Humanity had been divided, split, separated, and began killing each other off.

Either for profit.

Or for desire.

Wars were waged.

Conflict and hate was birth.

The idea of racism was conceived upon the skin of humanity.

And…

Hunter didn't care.

For he too was like them. Yet he wasn't divided. He hated and hated but he would never be a betrayer. And he'd kill those that did.

Hunter, or the Good Hunter was still the same angry man he was when he came to this plane. Three years didn't help him in his anger.

He traveled. Learned. Found understanding. Became molded by the wisdom. Began to become someone new. However, the beast within wouldn't leave. And he accepted it.

He never talked. Only when he needed to at the beginning.

It was day in and day out. The same thing. Over.

And over. And over. And over. Over. Over. Over. Over. And over. And. And. And. And. And. Abd-

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It was normal and calm. Same old, same old for the first year.

He felt his adrenalin skyrocket. His heart would surge. His mind would fuel the desire to Kill. Ravage. Assault. Murder. L78i!%\ve.

The Good Hunter felt the need to rip out his own eye lids. Tear out his teeth. Choke on the blood of who he wanted dead.

He held it back.

Always.

To those outside his mind, he seemed the same. Ever stony and quiet. Never uttering a word and being to himself.

Oh… how it ended the day he met Ukio.

The desire to kill vanished. Upon her hugging him. The want to hate fell into the void. Because she smiled to him. A great of rage was taken abd the breath of love was what gave him life.

He was different within and out. Yet he was the same.

Hunter knew that.

Both.

Beast.

Man.

Or, was man already the beast?

He's asked this question a lot.

Before he had planned Ukios birthday. Before adopting her. Before finding a job. Before he learned the many languages of this world. Before he had awoken in this world. Before he killed the Moon. Before he killed Gehrman. Before he had let Gehrman take his head.

After… becoming insane.

After it all.

At zero. From the very beginning. He had never chose to ask that question.

And now, he stood hidden behind a wall, within his own home, listening in on his baby girl and her friends have fun.

That old woman wouldn't let him down for being the kind of father he was. As a matter of fact, not even the Crow herself would. But both knew that if they take it too far he'd remove them from the living world permanently.

Well… only Old Gin knew that, since Eileen was dead.

That narcoleptic.

She may of been old and at times senile, however she held a type of wisdom he couldn't argue with at times, and she boasted a bit to often.

Hunter couldn't help but cringe.

She was a brat and she knew it.

Damn old Narco.

The sound of shouting caught his attention from his rouge thoughts and he listened in now.

"Burgundy Brash is in love with daddy!"

"Will you stop calling me that!?" This voice was familiar.

He took another peak and saw the girl in question sat next to a girl in a school uniform. She had blond hair with a pink highlight going down the right side. And she was laughing over most of the conversation. She seemed… not right in the head the first time he had met that one.

"Riley! Riley! Rillllllleyyyy~!"

"Stop shouting I'll you!?"

"Shirley you don't need to shout to get my attention. We talked about this remember?" Ah. Riley Orleans was a senior with heterochromia eyes. The voice of reason when the crazy girl got a bit out of hand.

Hentrietta seemed to hide behind her black cat while the rest of the crowd seem to go on regardless of the crazy girl going off about how funny it was that they exposed Winery Alberstion.

This was…

He didn't know what to say.

From the shouts, to the collective teasing, all the way to his baby girl getting defensive about keeping her daddy 'Pure' and away from 'Burgundy Brash', wasn't just a sight to behold. It was also one to get ahold of.

Silently, almost like a gust of wind he stepped out from behind the hallway he had taken residence within and laughed into his fist.

All animation stopped.

Besides one. A small girly wheeze could be heard.

Initially… he simply stared at them all.

All twelve of the girls residing within his home.

"...l-"

"Let the Hunter's hold this Mad Party…. Yay…." Came the old woman's flat tone of voice from the kitchen.

That… old… fart...

And right after that.

The girls came to life.

And The Good Hunter deadpanned, letting this slide.

For now.

After all, Gin did speak for him.

End