Bloodborne 32 The Power Of Blood

He pondered for a moment before the pain urged him to do it. He would worry about the consequences later. He feared putting strange blood into his system. But he didn't act fast, he would lose too much blood. And in Yharnam, loosing blood is as good as accepting death.

He injected himself with the blood vial and felt his strength coming back. In fact he felt even stronger, more revitalized. He felt more in control of his body. His muscles felt tenser and his body lighter. It felt as if he was a teenager again.

What he scoffed at earlier as he watched the mysterious man filling the bottles with beasts' blood had saved his life now. Moreover, it made him feel even powerful. One vial of that blood and he felt his strength increase. He wondered what more of this miraculous substance would do for his body. 'I gotta get more of this stuff. I need to get more.'

Paul heard a strange noise coming from below. He looked around. In his hurry to get out from the dogs, he had entered a warehouse of some sort. There were boxes and barrels stacked everywhere against the walls. There were stairs leading down and that's where the noise came from.

He went closer to inspect it. The noise grew louder as he approached. Someone, or rather something was breathing heavily. It was like someone suffering from asthma trying to catch any semblance of air while their lungs contracted and refused to.

As he climbed down the stairs, Paul saw a s.h.i.+mmering light. The stairs took a sharp turn to the right and as he followed them, he saw it. It was wearing a navy blue coat. What used to be trousers now fit only as shorts. It definitely used to be human before but it had transformed into something inhuman at that moment.

The beast had long furry arms and legs. It had an arched back from which spine bones were almost protruding. He could see them through the jacket. It was two times taller than him. It held a torch on its left hand and a crosscut saw on his right.

He held the saw, which took two grown men to manipulate, with ease. The beast saw him and came running his way. Fighting that thing on the stairs wasn't a considerable option. Paul retreated upstairs and waited for the beast to reach him. It was fast for its size and as it swung its saw towards him he tried to block it. Its swing was too fast for him to see through and dodge. His only option was to block. As the two weapons collided, Paul felt his feet leave the ground. He was flying backwards.

The impact of the hit was so strong it almost broke his weapon and his guard. His experience in fighting long and perilous wars helped him overcome his initial fear. He stood up and waited for the beast to swing again. He had come face to face with knights twice his size before and come out triumphant. It all came to using your surroundings to your advantage. He had enough s.p.a.ce to dodge and dance around his enemy. Swinging that weapon took stamina and big brutes generally didn't have enough of it.

The deformed man started with a flurry of attacks that almost cut him in half. He shuddered at the thought of getting hit by that saw. He dodged another attack just in time to feel the wind make his hair fly back. Dodging the attacks didn't feel like it was getting him anywhere. The big beast didn't seem to falter or tire. He had to come up with an alternate tactic.

Most brutes love swinging and don't think of the enemies' counterattacks. Their attacks were also simple and had a fixed pattern to them. As it swung at him again, he rolled forward to avoid the hit. Sparks illuminated the room as the saw hit the paved floor. Paul hit the beast's tendons and sliced them open. Blood came rus.h.i.+ng out and the monster turned around to perform yet another attack. With its tendons cut, it was unable to make another move and it collapsed head first to the ground.

No matter their size, every enemy has its weakness. Paul learned that during his time as a mercenary. For this case, stamina wasn't its weakness but simplemindedness. He held his axe with both hands and stood on the beast's side. With one powerful hit, he cut its head off as it struggled to stand up. He took the empty vial he had kept and filled it with blood. He injected himself quickly with it and refilled the vial in order to keep it when he'd be in dire need for it.

This blood had properties he underestimated. His body had gained in strength and in agility. In retrospect, he couldn't have blocked that hit earlier even if he wasn't injured by the dog. He felt more in control of his body and his vision became clearer. He needed more vials.

He went down the stairs to explore more of that warehouse. By that time, the noise coming from the bridge had quieted down. The beast had finally managed to kill the poor b.a.s.t.a.r.d. That abomination was the exception to the rule. Its size was too much to handle, and there was no way he could slice its tendons as he did for the previous one. Its hide looked as pale and hard as rock. He pitied the poor soul who felt foolish enough to try and fight it.

At least he was thankful that the mysterious man had told them about the vials. Maybe after two dozen injected, he'd have a chance against that gigantic monstrosity.