Gehrman reached the spiraling wooden staircase that would lead him to his Workshop, but instead of going down, he turned his gaze above.
Laurence had given him two days to rest, and he intended to take advantage of this opportunity.
So he found himself walking upward, toward the place that would become Upper Cathedral Ward. At this point in time, Micolash had already left for Yahar'gul to do his research. However, Laurence still wanted a laboratory of sorts near the headquarters. Perhaps he already sensed something amiss with Micolash, and suspected that he would eventually leave the Church and found his own institution.
In a couple years, Micolash would create the School of Mensis. He still shared research with both Byrgenwerth and the Church's new research division–the Choir, but he operated with different rules.
Human experimentation was heavily restricted by both Laurence and Master Willem, it was one of the few things they agreed upon. However, Micolash was greedy and without a conscience. He would sacrifice infants if he believed it would further the human race…and Gehrman suspected he did just that.
During Johann's night of the Hunt, he saw many empty baby carriages, but no infants.
Amidst the bloodshed and horror of the nightmare, it was an odd detail that he had overlooked for a long time, only briefly noticing it when he stopped to think about the cry of an infant that resounded throughout the Nightmare of Mensis.
During that particular night, the moon was drawn especially close, and its power far surpassed its previous appearances. Even Clergy and Hunters fell to the bestial call. All the other times the Blood Moon had risen, it was the Moon Presence asserting its will upon the waking world. Since it was a parasite, not the true god that oversaw that world, it could only spread its influence with the Beast Plague.
But it was never as horrific as it was on that night. The common folk may have been imbibing more blood than normal at that time, but for every single one of them to succumb was unfathomable.
It stood to reason that whatever or whoever had beckoned the Moon Presence had done something to enhance its power.
The chilling thought caused him to shudder, or perhaps it was the eerie cold afternoon breeze that suddenly hit him.
Upper Cathedral Ward was still a work in progress, as such, much of its areas were open to the winds with no walls or ceilings in sight.
That being said, there was one area that was already complete.
Instead of following the path straight ahead, Gehrman actually immediately turned to the side. What looked like a railing was actually a gate. The tempered metal easily swung open with a push.
From there, it was only a few steps until he pushed the stone parapet in a specific place. A secret door silently allowed itself to open with some effort.
Gehrman slipped inside the cramped, dimly lit hallway that was completely unobservable from anyone on the outside. In fact, no one from the outside could even see the side or top of Upper Cathedral Ward due to how it was built. After all, it would be problematic if a skeptic saw a high ranking member enter a hidden door that lead to a secret space.
The believers of the Healing Church were told that Upper Cathedral Ward was to be the place where The Blood would be cultivated and processed by the Clergy and the Blood Saints. As such, it was seen as Holy Ground and therefore forbidden.
This was partially true. A large amount of The Blood was generated in the Upper Cathedral Ward, but it was not what the believers imagined.
Instead of being a place of worship, it was actually home to the blasphemous truth behind the Church's power.
Gehrman exited the hallway then, finding himself in a tall, but thin room that resembled the average cathedral. However, it was incredibly sparse with no pews or seats. Instead, there was only a large statue.
The opulent golden figure was so decorated that it was hard to make out any sort of features. But any believer would be able to tell who this was based on the open-armed gesture and lithe figure. Fittingly enough, it was a statue of Ebrietas who was a goddess of youth, babies, and childbirth. Of course, the real Great One held no such connotations or divine domains. But each of the alien creatures had been given traits that made them appeal to a human audience.
The fact that this statue was of this specific Great One was incredibly ironic.
For this false idol hid behind it the being it was mocking.
Gehrman held his hand out to the statue and lightly pushed two parts of the "cloth" that covered the statue's figure. Then, the stone in the center of the room moved, and a staircase was revealed.
He made his way down, and he immediately felt the air change. It was an indescribable sensation. To the followers of the Church, it was a sign that they were in the presence of divinity.
Gehrman felt it was a warning that humans should not approach any further.
The hallway broke into a small room with a circular platform in the center. After pressing on the nearby pressure plate, he began the long descent to the place called the Altar of Despair.
The platform went lower and lower, going from a hundred meters above the city to a hundred more below it.
No Yharnamites had figured out that this place existed until Caryll had deciphered (or perhaps guessed) the mutterings of the incarnation of Ebriteas in the Isz Chalice Dungeon.
The Altar of Despair was ancient, perhaps older than even the last generation of Pthumerians.
The ethereal aura that grew even stronger could only be found in places brimming with Arcane power. It was in that odd area that they met an incarnation of Ebriteas, and it was because of that they were able to find it in the waking world as well.
Somehow, Ebrietas existed in multiple places at once.
As the elevator reached solid ground, Gehrman finally took in the being that had taken up his thoughts since first returning to Yharnam.
Ebrietas, Daughter of The Cosmos.
It was difficult to describe this exalted being in human language. After all, her essence was of cosmic proportions, and as such, its anatomy followed no logic.
The grey creature was turned away from him. But he could still make out her familiar features.
She had no legs, instead, her lower body fused to create something akin to a thick snake's tail. Despite this, it seemed to have pelvic bones, and some imprints jutted out from the area that separated the top half of her body.
Her torso was flat and featureless, no bones, muscles, or indentations. Wings were jutting out from her back. There was no connective tissue inside the wings that would allow for flight (though he knew that she somehow was capable of such a feat). They were filled with enormous patches and holes. It was to the point that there was more empty space than flesh.
Perhaps all that tissue and muscle went towards the dozens of chaotically placed tentacles that jutted out of her upper body at random angles. They hovered above each other, floating as if they were underwater.
Her arms (if they could be called arms) were short, and they extended into massive hands that held no bone or muscle. Instead, disproportionately long fingers were splayed out, brushing against the wet ground.
Gehrman was at her side then, and he looked up at the towering creature. It showed no malevolence; in fact, it was easy to see her as a kind spirit. She willingly gave up her blood for the Church, and she showed no issue with allowing the Blood Saints to continuously imbibe amounts so great that it altered their own blood quality.
She was passive, never looking at or acknowledging humans with the sole exception of Caryll (who she once briefly glanced at).
Only when attacked would she quickly and brutally dispatch the offender. Johann himself was an example of this. He had been turned into a fine red mist seconds after their first encounter ended with him swinging his axe into this strange being.
At that point in the night, he was conditioned to attack anything that moved, and this colossal monstrosity seemed so dangerous that he had attacked first.
He regretted it.
It had been passive and would not harm him initially, but ever since then, it would greet him with death.
Ebrieteas was the cause of a good chunk of his deaths that night.
This was the reason why he started sweating when the creature turned to stare at Gehrman.
The large spherical head was covered with smaller white tubes that fell in front of its face. But they moved aside to reveal a mouth that split the left and right halves of its head, revealing a pit of raw blood and muscle that inexplicably stayed in place.
And eyes.
Hundreds of eyes lined this creature's brain.
He wondered if it would kill him at that moment. Even though he was stronger than the average Awakened, if Ebriteas wished it, she could end him in less than a second.
The feeling he felt when being this close to her was the same level of dread that he got when he witnessed the pitch black sea of the Forgotten Shore. It was an unfathomable power that boggled the imagination.
Great Ones did not have Ranks and Classes like creatures from Dorian's worlds. But if he had to guess, they might be somewhere in the sixth or maybe seventh Rank. Such creatures had never even been recorded, and they were theorized to be evil gods with the ability to destroy the entire planet.
Since the Great Ones went beyond all physics and concepts, it wasn't a stretch to include them in this classification. Even Ebriteas, who was the weakest of the Great Ones, was worthy of such a high Rank. The abilities of the creature before him would not be the same as he had faced before. Unlike Johann's world, every living being with power had a Rank and Class. So even if the Great Ones were above, or perhaps removed from such things, the incarnations Gehrman faced in these Nightmares would be given one by the Spell.
Gehrman shuddered at this realization…but he did not need to.
Ebriteas was simply observing Gehrman. There was no malice in her gaze. Great Ones did not experience emotions like humans did, but if he had to guess, she was confused.
Perhaps she was experiencing what Caryll had, and was realizing that this was a fake reality and she was a fake Ebriteas.
If she did comprehend this, she didn't seem to care.
Slowly, she turned her head away and returned her gaze to the ancient Altar.
Gehrman blew out a breath. He had unknowingly worked up a cold sweat.
"I guess it's time to give it a shot."
He summoned the [Portable Blood Imbiber]. As he did, the realization that a mere Ascended Memory (which was of the Third Rank) would not pierce the skin of this divinity dawned on him.
Futily, he pressed the sharp end into Ebriteas's skin.
It did not puncture. It couldn't even indent her skin.
Gehrman sighed. And then he started to feel a tinge of anger. "Hold on, how come they're still able to get Blood from you in this Nightmare? They don't have godly tools! Do the rules of the Spell only follow me around, not restricting anyone else?"
Ebrieteas did not react to this outburst. But it did turn to face him after a few more moments. Surprisingly, it lowered its head and revealed its horrific face.
She lightly touched the red gore of her face onto the needle of the [Portable Blood Imbiber]. It did not puncture this time either, but something miraculous happened.
The vial started to fill up with a deep, dark red.
A steady stream filled one vial after another, and Gehrman couldn't help but gape in awe. This creature…was perhaps the kindest thing he had ever encountered. He cursed himself for having attacked it in its past life.
"You know, if this church revolved around you, I might just attend their services," Gehrman complimented the Great One.
She did not react, only pulling up her head after filling up the remaining vials and returning her gaze forward.
Gehrman expressed his gratitude with a bow, and then he decided to test his theory. If Ebriteas was truly a god, then the Blood Fragments he was about to receive would be tremendous; he would likely be able to become a Titan off of just Ebriteas's blood alone.
Without any preamble, he struck his leg, and the blood of a Great One ran through him. It felt incredibly nostalgic, just like the Blood he had used in his First Nightmare…unfortunately, no new sensations occurred.
Gehrman blinked dumbly and braced himself for a change that never came. The slight boost in power that came with Blood Fragments never came.
He checked his counter, and his worst fears were realized.
They had not moved by a single Fragment.
Gehrman's eye twitched. Ebriteas was a kind spirit, and thus it was not a servant to Corruption. And Gehrman's innate ability clearly stated that he only grew from the blood of the corrupted. Perhaps if Ebriteas was enraged and attacked him, the Spell would consider her a Nightmare Creature and thus offer great rewards from drinking her blood, but at the moment, no such boons came.
He looked up into the air and groaned. He thought he had been quite clever in thinking up this plan, but it amounted to nothing.
He spent a couple of minutes sitting in dejection before he noticed something off. His mind was feeling frantic. His thoughts were starting to speed up and overlap with each other.
He grasped his head as the piercing pain of Frenzy hit him like a truck.
It seemed that Ebriteas's blood did still have an effect, but it was only the negative one. "Whrtahs ssdfj fidsj!!" Gehrman's cussing came out as incoherent sounds. His sanity was dropping fast.
It felt like he was losing 10% every 10 seconds!
He threw his body away from the Great One, but Ebriteas was not paying attention to his psychological episode.
His mind was being torn apart at a rate he wasn't used to. He started to tear his face, drawing blood and screaming, but then a change happened.
The thoughts that were being torn apart…began floating. They were flying away most pleasingly. Instead of losing his mind, it felt that there was no need to even have one in the first place.
Euphoria started to overtake him.
No words could describe the happiness and contentness that hugged his body. He noticed his hands on his face, and the reality around him shaking.
It was…imperfect and askew.
Gehrman's body was no longer shaking. He felt better than he ever had. The air around him was soft and gentle, all his muscles strong and rested.
The only thing wrong was the vision before him.
The obvious solution came to him then.
I just have to tear my eyeballs out of their sockets.
It wouldn't be hard, one only had to get their fingers behind them and perform a satisfying tug. There would be a nice pop, and then it would only be good things.
Gehrman's arms started to raise, giddy at the feeling that movement gave him.
Dimly, he realised that something was wrong. Tearing out his eyes would be bad. It would be foolish.
What's wrong with pulling out these pesky things? Am I worried about the little flesh bits that will still be attached to my brain? I can just pull those out, too. And if there is still an issue, I can just carve out my brain! There are no problems with this plan, only good things!
But then, how will I Hunt?
…There is no need to Hunt.
Gehrman's hands halted to a stop, his fingernails just starting to dig into the thin skin of his eyelids.
No need to Hunt? Am I going mad?
His sanity was all but gone, but the madness that was infecting him was still unable to fully take him.
It was then that he heard a voice. It was a woman's voice, calm and gentle. The sound reverberated throughout his being. It had not been spoken, instead, he simply understood the understanding of another, as if he had known it all along.
"Bliss."
Under the shadow of the cosmos, the fourth truth was gifted to him.
The many eyes of Ebrietas trembled and then grew still. The irises glazed over and once again returned to their serene madness. It was in too pleasant a state to consider the reason why her sister had abandoned and ignored the truth.