Without wasting his breath, Victor trudged off and continued spearheading their journey; Adelicia followed obediently, holding on to her censer staff as if it were her lifeline. Why were so many hunters such unlikeable fellows? She wondered whilst absentmindedly staring at the back of his cloak. And what made a hunter, in the end? They were treated blood, just like any Yharnamite. Just like she was, in fact. What was it that separated her from a hunter? Why was the one so frail and weak, and the other so powerful and savage? And when she considered just how feral beasts were she could not help but speculate: was it simply the state of mind that mattered? Could she, too, if overcome by inhuman lusts, become such a thing? Did she even have the capacity for such desires?

What a strange thought that was. She had never heard of a Blood Saint turning into a beast. Perhaps it was impossible, after all. Or perhaps it was simply another secret that was kept from her.

Cooped up in her own world, Adelicia came close to bumping into Victor before she realized he had come to a halt. Finding her proximity to the huntsman far too dangerous, she quickly retracted her steps.

“Why are we stopping?” she asked with a hint of concern, casting her gaze over the area ahead. It was difficult to ignore the slumbering church giant, and her eyes lingered on it for a little while. It looked so at peace, fast asleep without a care in the world. It wasn’t wracked with fear, or frothing with bloodlust. It didn’t care about the hunt or beasts. Apparently it did not even care about its duty. It was content to simply exist, and to sleep when it felt the urge to. If only she could live such a carefree life!

Happy thoughts were quickly silenced when her eyes finally fell upon the grisly stains of blood that covered significant parts of the ground and walls off to the right. Blood was a common thing in Yharnam and its sight in glass containers fazed her none but it was nonetheless unsettling to see the substance so removed from its usual context. It wasn’t the sight of blood that set her on edge, but rather the imminent danger it implied. Just at that moment, the smell of it hit her like a punch; heavy, cold, iron-like. The scent of pain and death. Cold, too, was the feeling of her insides and, as the blood drained from her already pale face, she clumsily stepped further backwards, away from the carnage and, perhaps worryingly, away from the hunters. When she finally caught sight of the slain servant, her eyes remained stuck on its gore-drowned body – too horrible to look at, but too horrible to look away from.

[i]It is happening again,[/i] she thought. [i]Again and again. Beasts will come, and hunters will kill them. Blood begets blood. Violence begets violence. Yharnam is a city at war with itself. This cannot continue. It has to end. It has to end!

Oh please, someone end it![/i]