Amidst a Paleblood sky, four blood moons pierced the clouds, their figures dominating the heavens.
The first was the visualization of Frenzy. It thrummed with an imaginary heartbeat, veins pulsing and winding through the celestial body. There was no rhyme or rhythm, only the purest chaos.
The second was Dissociation. It was made up of an amalgamation of screaming, distorted skulls. When looking at this moon, Gehrman could easily imagine screams of pain, sorrow, and laughter of countless different souls.
The third was Agony. Twisted cracks and splinters tortured this moon. Even looking at it was a most unpleasant sight.
The fourth was barely distinguishable from a normal blood moon. If Gehrman did not already comprehend its truth, he would have never noticed the thin, uniform lines that hugged the sphere. Its visage was the complete opposite of the third moon. Compact, smooth, and beautiful, it was already exerting a strange influence on him.
Fortunately, he had managed to decipher this dangerous truth early, or rather, the truth had been gifted to him.
He wasn't sure if it was intentional or not, but Ebriteas's blood had thrust him into the very depths of madness.
He had barely even scratched the surface of this new insanity before the answer had been thrust in his face. This might have been another ploy by Paleblood, but if it was, it had to have been a gamble. Gehrman had nearly ripped out his own eyes.
For some reason, he felt a deep-seated dread recalling that fact. Ordinarily, his eyes could be regrown fairly easily, but something told him that if he maimed himself while in this state, with his own will, they might have been gone forever.
…It would probably leave him with nightmares for a couple of weeks.
But he was already used to those, both the sleeping versions and the twisting of reality versions.
In his dreams, Gehrman felt himself die over and over again. What's worse, he would constantly be getting killed by people he knew. His pupils slaughtered him while looking him in the eyes. The friends he had made on the Forgotten Shore stabbed him in the back.
It was truly unpleasant.
Mostly because it was hard to wake up feeling truly rested.
Sighing, Gehrman opened his eyes, and the sight of his Soul Sea was replaced with one of the waking world.
He turned to look out the carriage window, resting his elbow upon the opening. It was early in the morning.
After his strange encounter with Ebriteas the day before, he had decided to stay in and work on a new Trick Weapon to ease his mind.
Fittingly, the prototype of Ludwig's Holy Blade was noticed by the younger version of the Hunter, who the weapon would be named after.
In Gehrman and Johann's original world, this trick weapon was forged and spread later on in the Church's history. After the burning of Old Yharnam (and after Gehrman had officially retired), the church's best craftsmen came up with a design to be able to slay larger beasts.
As such, it was not very necessary for this Nightmare since the largest creature he would face would likely be the Maneater Boar. However, it would be imperative to master the design before he returned to Dorian's world. After all, the sizes of Nightmare Creatures had been consistently larger than the Beasts of Yharnam.
So after a day of therapeutic sketching and experimenting, Gehrman left Cathedral Ward and ordered a carriage for himself.
He needed to travel East to reach the Healing Church's hidden Research Hall. That place was built to deal with the fallout of the Fishing Hamlet incident. Many of those villagers remained warped by the Arcane, and one of Byrgenwerth's best scholars was placed in charge.
It was finally time to face the one he had been both anticipating and dreading meeting.
Maria, Lady of Cainhurst and relative to the Vilebloods, the great scholar and Hunter, Old Gehrman's prized pupil…and his most twisted obsession.
…
The Research Hall was distinct from other buildings of the Healing Church in many ways. First of all, it abandoned all notions of decadence, relying solely on functionality. All rooms could be connected with the rotating staircase that specifically turned on every hour, signified by the chiming of the connected clocktower.
It used a great amount of natural light to brighten the whole area, and several candles lit the more secluded rooms.
Lifts allowed for swift transportation between the seven of the floors (with the remaining one being accessible by ladders that were in turn allowed only church employees to call down). The top floor was made up of slim rafters that were tricky to navigate. The danger of falling off was distinct, but it ensured that nobody but specific church employees could enter and access the level that would shift the stairs.
It was a piece of art.
But even this grand feat of engineering was unable to stir Gehrman's heart. That was because he recognized the horrific truth of this place
This was a place of human experimentation.
It followed specific guidelines, only the terminally ill or excessively poor would have the Arcane thrust upon them or have their bodies twisted with unknown substances. This was the "correct" experimentation that was allowed by Laurence and Master Willem. Micolash may have been a monster for his experiments, but Laurence and Willem were not much better. Unlike Micolash, the heads of those institutions had guilt for their actions. They had to go through great lengths to ensure that their actions were "righteous". Otherwise they wouldn't be able to sleep at night.
Gehrman did not go up the central staircase, instead turning to the right upon entrance and hitching a ride on the lift.
As he did this he saw the white-coated Church workers move about with different people in hospital gowns. Some of them looked normal, but others were already showing signs of engorged heads.
This was the result of the injection of fluids into their head. It was an attempt to create a brain that eyes could grow upon.
The experiments were meticulous, but the notion was insane.
Even though some grew to somewhat resemble the people of the Fishing Hamlet, there was a fundamental difference between the two.
This was obvious to Gehrman in hindsight, but in his past life, the thought never occurred to him.
Eyes turned down, he entered one of the larger rooms. The immobilized patients here were laid out in individual beds.
Next to one a lithe figure knelt. She had abandoned her Hunter attire, opting for an outfit to Gehrman's own casual style. Her white button up, however, had a more distinct collar as well as an emerald brooch. Her grey hair fell softly on her pristinely pale neck.
Gehrman couldn't help but shudder as a wave of emotions hit him. Not only did Old Gehrman's memories bring with it the obsession of her as a person, but his body was also reacting to hers.
The conflicting revulsion felt with his other past lives caused a schism that he had been expecting. He had avoided Blood, and since he recovered strangely quickly after the encounter with Ebriteas, he was at maximum sanity.
…It wasn't enough.
Gehrman felt his hands contract into fists, nails digging into his palms so hard they drew blood. He felt his pupils shaking at the sight of her.
Then, she seemed to sense him.
Her sharp, grey eyes met his and softened. He felt himself becoming undone by them, the hawk-like gaze focused on him, and she broke out into an impossibly sublime smile.
"Master, I didn't expect you to be visiting today."
Gehrman controlled his trembling through sheer will-power, but he did not trust himself to speak. Instead, he motioned for her to follow him and he turned away and left the room. To her, this meant he wanted privacy, and while this was true, it was mostly so he could regain control of himself.
He stood next to one of the railings, looking down over the interweaving staircases. Gehrman sucked in breath deep, then turned to see Maria standing next to him. Closely. She stood very close. Or maybe she didn't and Gehrman was just perceiving it that way.
"Laurence has asked me to fetch some blood from a Loran beast, one with poison. I was hoping you would accompany me."
He made this request for a couple of reasons. The first was that Laurence had suggested that he take another Hunter with him on this trip, lest another unfortunate accident occur. The second was because it was efficient. The ruins of Loran were situated North East of this place, and the only reliably safe path took him near the Research Hall. But the most important reason was Gehrman wanted to get some more intelligence on the Vilebloods. His goal in this trip was either to learn more tricks for his [Blood Manipulation] aspect, or to learn how to get to Cainhurst Castle.
"Oh…Master, you know I would love too…but I don't go on Hunts anymore. The patients here need me. They rely on me," Maria said. She spoke as if she was trying to convince herself. She too had turned to look over the grand sight of the Research Hall.
"You don't need to Hunt ," Gehrman said. "I haven't seen you in a while. I would enjoy your company."
"I see," she said quickly. She turned her face away, and her prim and slow voice seemed to be rushed. If he didn't know any better, Gehrman might think she was flustered.
A sick thought dawned on him.
What if the reason Old Gehrman's mania developed to the point he was making dolls of Maria, was that she actually responded to him? Of course, she would never make any advances, the age difference alone would be enough to cause social ostracism. She was in her 20s now, so Gehrman was about twice her age. The master-student relationship made it even more taboo.
But perhaps both of them were excited by such a concept?
Gehrman considered throwing himself over the railing.
The mere thought was an insult to Lady Maria, and it was likely a byproduct of Old Gehrman's insanity. Or worse, it was a perverted form of manipulation from the Moon Presence.
"We won't be gone for more than two days, just a simple trip there and back. I believe the Church researchers can handle things until then."
"...I suppose," she turned and faced Gehrman again. "I should grab my Hunters gear then. It will be just like old times."