PinkSnake - Bloodborne Eternal Beast - 70
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Chapter 070: Brainsucker
At the end of the alley, a dark figure stood across the steps, hidden beyond the reach of the candlelight.
“Kid, lost your way?”
The voice came without warning.
Charles looked up and saw a burly, barefoot man wrapped in a tattered black cloak, a bulging burlap sack slung over one shoulder. Dark red liquid seeped from the bottom, dripping onto the stone steps with faint tap, tap sounds.
More unsettling still, something inside the sack was moving. From time to time came the muffled struggles of something that had yet to draw its final breath.
Charles lowered the brim of his hat, his expression calm.
“Just went to relieve myself. I’m heading up ahead to meet the others.”
“Never mind.” The burly man waved a hand. The mottled bloodstains across his skin had long since dried into brown crusts. “I don’t care about your business. But there’s something important I need your help with.”
His voice was low and hoarse, yet carried an unmistakable authority that left no room for refusal.
With the situation still unclear, Charles slowly approached.
One step.
Two.
As soon as the distance closed, the burly man suddenly reached for him.
Just before his fingers touched Charles’s clothes, a flash of cold steel struck first.
Slash!
The Saw Cleaver came down hard on the man’s arm.
But the expected spray of flesh and blood never came.
The thick arm was as hard as steel. The blade merely split the surface of the skin, scattering a few dark red droplets without reaching tendon or bone.
“Cunning little bastard.”
The burly man looked down at the wound with a dark expression.
A dark red haze suddenly steamed from his body. His slack, withered muscles swelled and tightened at a visible rate, stretching the tattered cloak until it snapped and fluttered around him.
The next instant, he swung the burlap sack from his shoulder with all his strength.
The heavy sack whistled through the air, and every time it came crashing down, muffled groans of pain came from inside.
There was a living person in that sack.
Charles retreated again and again, struggling to bring up his Saw Cleaver to block.
The sack, weighted with a human body, slammed against the blade with heavy thuds. Every impact sent numbness through his hands.
“Of course. There isn’t a single normal person in Yharnam.”
Charles gritted his teeth, glad he had never believed a word from the stranger.
Otherwise, he might well have ended up inside that sack himself.
“There’s fighting over there.”
“Come on. Let’s see what’s happening.”
The commotion had drawn attention from the street.
A jumble of footsteps and barking dogs rapidly approached. The patrolling townspeople were coming, their hunting dogs leading them toward the noise.
“Damn it. I was so close.”
The burly man glanced toward the firelight and approaching figures at the mouth of the alley, then abruptly broke off the fight.
In a few quick movements, he climbed the dead tree beside the wall and perched atop it. Before leaving, he turned back and glared viciously at Charles.
“You’d make excellent material. Don’t die. I’ll come back for you!”
Before the words had even faded, he vaulted over the wall and disappeared into the darkness beyond.
“It’s that Snatcher!”
“Don’t let him get away!”
“Give me back my sister, you bastard!”
The arriving townspeople surged past in fury.
Not one of them spared Charles a second glance. The Snatcher had clearly earned enough hatred here to enrage everyone who knew of him.
Charles looked down at the filthy, bloodstained clothes he was wearing.
An idea came to him.
He raised his head, blended into the surging crowd, climbed over the courtyard wall, and joined the pursuit in the direction the Snatcher had fled.
As he ran, Charles lowered his voice and copied the tone of those around him.
“You bastard! Don’t run!”
The furious mob followed the hunting dogs through the streets, firelight and barking tearing through the darkness until they finally stopped before an abandoned courtyard.
At the center of the courtyard, beside a dry well, stood the same barefoot giant.
He had not fled.
He did not even look nervous.
He simply stood there with the blood-soaked sack still slung over his shoulder, as though he had been waiting for the crowd to arrive.
“Surround him! Don’t let him escape!”
The crowd surged forward and quickly sealed off the courtyard.
Yet once they had truly cornered the vicious man, no one dared approach.
The shape writhing inside the sack, his mountain-like build, the blood covering his body. No one wanted to become his next victim.
The standoff lasted for a moment.
“Out of my way!”
A middle-aged man suddenly shoved through the crowd and charged forward with a spear.
His eyes were bloodshot, and his whole body trembled as he pointed the spearhead directly at the giant’s throat.
“You bastard! You know you can’t get away, so you’ve given up, is that it? Tell me! Where did you take my wife?!”
His voice rang through the night, filled with anger and despair that had been held back far too long.
But the burly man was not the one who answered him.
Pop.
A faint sound, like a child blowing a soap bubble.
An eerie light suddenly flared from the shadows of the courtyard.
It blossomed into countless iridescent bubbles that drifted through the air, dreamlike and beautiful, yet in the blink of an eye they surrounded the middle-aged man completely.
“W-what is this?!”
He struggled, but could not move.
The bubbles looked fragile, yet they held him in place as securely as walls of iron.
Then came a tentacle.
A deathly pale, slick tentacle as thick as a man’s leg suddenly shot from the darkness.
It slipped through any opening.
Precise and ravenous.
Squelch.
Its sharpened tip pierced the middle-aged man’s skull with ease, as though plunging into ripe fruit.
His eyes flew wide, and his mouth opened as far as it could, but no sound came out.
Only the wet sounds of the tentacle feeding, stirring, and sucking inside his skull could be heard in the deathly silent courtyard.
“M-monster!!”
The crowd broke.
People screamed and stumbled backward, shoving, falling, trampling over one another.
But the creature that owned the tentacle was faster.
Thud.
A deathly pale figure sprang from the shadows, vaulted over the fleeing crowd, and landed squarely before the courtyard’s only exit.
Its tentacles pierced several of those at the front, skewering them together.
With that single move, it cut off everyone’s escape.
The flickering firelight finally revealed its true form.
It was not powerfully built. If anything, it looked frail.
Skin as pale as a drowned corpse stretched tightly over its bones, wrapped in a ragged dark yellow robe. Strange markings covered its right arm, deep blue patterns resembling twisted veins.
Its limbs were frog-like, and it crouched low to the ground in a posture unnatural enough to make the skin crawl.
Its face, if it could still be called one, had no eyes.
There were only two hollow sockets, dark and bottomless.
Where its mouth should have been grew a dense mass of horrifying tentacles. Every one of them writhed faintly, as though tasting the fear in the air.
The enormous main tentacle had burst directly through the top of its skull.
Now it hung in the air, slowly twisting, its tip still smeared with fresh blood and whitish brain matter.
“Hiss...”
The Brainsucker gave a low, wet hiss.
The mass of tentacles around its mouth shuddered together.
The fleeing crowd huddled in another corner of the courtyard, trembling.
Not a trace remained of the ferocity they had shown while chasing the Snatcher.
“Tsk, tsk.”
A quiet chuckle came from beside the dry well.
The Snatcher, the barefoot giant everyone had been pursuing, still carried the sack over his shoulder, a sly and triumphant smile on his face.
“Enjoy yourselves.”
He turned, dragging the heavy sack with him as he strode into the darkness at the far end of the courtyard.
The muffled struggling from inside the sack gradually faded into the distance.
All that remained in the courtyard was the deathly pale monster and a crowd of trembling prey.
Torches fell to the ground one after another.
Their flickering light stretched the Brainsucker’s shadow across the entire wall.
No one dared move.
No one dared make a sound.
Only its tentacles continued to writhe slowly through the air, as though choosing its next victim.
Chapter 070: Brainsucker
At the end of the alley, a dark figure stood across the steps, hidden beyond the reach of the candlelight.
“Kid, lost your way?”
The voice came without warning.
Charles looked up and saw a burly, barefoot man wrapped in a tattered black cloak, a bulging burlap sack slung over one shoulder. Dark red liquid seeped from the bottom, dripping onto the stone steps with faint tap, tap sounds.
More unsettling still, something inside the sack was moving. From time to time came the muffled struggles of something that had yet to draw its final breath.
Charles lowered the brim of his hat, his expression calm.
“Just went to relieve myself. I’m heading up ahead to meet the others.”
“Never mind.” The burly man waved a hand. The mottled bloodstains across his skin had long since dried into brown crusts. “I don’t care about your business. But there’s something important I need your help with.”
His voice was low and hoarse, yet carried an unmistakable authority that left no room for refusal.
With the situation still unclear, Charles slowly approached.
One step.
Two.
As soon as the distance closed, the burly man suddenly reached for him.
Just before his fingers touched Charles’s clothes, a flash of cold steel struck first.
Slash!
The Saw Cleaver came down hard on the man’s arm.
But the expected spray of flesh and blood never came.
The thick arm was as hard as steel. The blade merely split the surface of the skin, scattering a few dark red droplets without reaching tendon or bone.
“Cunning little bastard.”
The burly man looked down at the wound with a dark expression.
A dark red haze suddenly steamed from his body. His slack, withered muscles swelled and tightened at a visible rate, stretching the tattered cloak until it snapped and fluttered around him.
The next instant, he swung the burlap sack from his shoulder with all his strength.
The heavy sack whistled through the air, and every time it came crashing down, muffled groans of pain came from inside.
There was a living person in that sack.
Charles retreated again and again, struggling to bring up his Saw Cleaver to block.
The sack, weighted with a human body, slammed against the blade with heavy thuds. Every impact sent numbness through his hands.
“Of course. There isn’t a single normal person in Yharnam.”
Charles gritted his teeth, glad he had never believed a word from the stranger.
Otherwise, he might well have ended up inside that sack himself.
“There’s fighting over there.”
“Come on. Let’s see what’s happening.”
The commotion had drawn attention from the street.
A jumble of footsteps and barking dogs rapidly approached. The patrolling townspeople were coming, their hunting dogs leading them toward the noise.
“Damn it. I was so close.”
The burly man glanced toward the firelight and approaching figures at the mouth of the alley, then abruptly broke off the fight.
In a few quick movements, he climbed the dead tree beside the wall and perched atop it. Before leaving, he turned back and glared viciously at Charles.
“You’d make excellent material. Don’t die. I’ll come back for you!”
Before the words had even faded, he vaulted over the wall and disappeared into the darkness beyond.
“It’s that Snatcher!”
“Don’t let him get away!”
“Give me back my sister, you bastard!”
The arriving townspeople surged past in fury.
Not one of them spared Charles a second glance. The Snatcher had clearly earned enough hatred here to enrage everyone who knew of him.
Charles looked down at the filthy, bloodstained clothes he was wearing.
An idea came to him.
He raised his head, blended into the surging crowd, climbed over the courtyard wall, and joined the pursuit in the direction the Snatcher had fled.
As he ran, Charles lowered his voice and copied the tone of those around him.
“You bastard! Don’t run!”
The furious mob followed the hunting dogs through the streets, firelight and barking tearing through the darkness until they finally stopped before an abandoned courtyard.
At the center of the courtyard, beside a dry well, stood the same barefoot giant.
He had not fled.
He did not even look nervous.
He simply stood there with the blood-soaked sack still slung over his shoulder, as though he had been waiting for the crowd to arrive.
“Surround him! Don’t let him escape!”
The crowd surged forward and quickly sealed off the courtyard.
Yet once they had truly cornered the vicious man, no one dared approach.
The shape writhing inside the sack, his mountain-like build, the blood covering his body. No one wanted to become his next victim.
The standoff lasted for a moment.
“Out of my way!”
A middle-aged man suddenly shoved through the crowd and charged forward with a spear.
His eyes were bloodshot, and his whole body trembled as he pointed the spearhead directly at the giant’s throat.
“You bastard! You know you can’t get away, so you’ve given up, is that it? Tell me! Where did you take my wife?!”
His voice rang through the night, filled with anger and despair that had been held back far too long.
But the burly man was not the one who answered him.
Pop.
A faint sound, like a child blowing a soap bubble.
An eerie light suddenly flared from the shadows of the courtyard.
It blossomed into countless iridescent bubbles that drifted through the air, dreamlike and beautiful, yet in the blink of an eye they surrounded the middle-aged man completely.
“W-what is this?!”
He struggled, but could not move.
The bubbles looked fragile, yet they held him in place as securely as walls of iron.
Then came a tentacle.
A deathly pale, slick tentacle as thick as a man’s leg suddenly shot from the darkness.
It slipped through any opening.
Precise and ravenous.
Squelch.
Its sharpened tip pierced the middle-aged man’s skull with ease, as though plunging into ripe fruit.
His eyes flew wide, and his mouth opened as far as it could, but no sound came out.
Only the wet sounds of the tentacle feeding, stirring, and sucking inside his skull could be heard in the deathly silent courtyard.
“M-monster!!”
The crowd broke.
People screamed and stumbled backward, shoving, falling, trampling over one another.
But the creature that owned the tentacle was faster.
Thud.
A deathly pale figure sprang from the shadows, vaulted over the fleeing crowd, and landed squarely before the courtyard’s only exit.
Its tentacles pierced several of those at the front, skewering them together.
With that single move, it cut off everyone’s escape.
The flickering firelight finally revealed its true form.
It was not powerfully built. If anything, it looked frail.
Skin as pale as a drowned corpse stretched tightly over its bones, wrapped in a ragged dark yellow robe. Strange markings covered its right arm, deep blue patterns resembling twisted veins.
Its limbs were frog-like, and it crouched low to the ground in a posture unnatural enough to make the skin crawl.
Its face, if it could still be called one, had no eyes.
There were only two hollow sockets, dark and bottomless.
Where its mouth should have been grew a dense mass of horrifying tentacles. Every one of them writhed faintly, as though tasting the fear in the air.
The enormous main tentacle had burst directly through the top of its skull.
Now it hung in the air, slowly twisting, its tip still smeared with fresh blood and whitish brain matter.
“Hiss...”
The Brainsucker gave a low, wet hiss.
The mass of tentacles around its mouth shuddered together.
The fleeing crowd huddled in another corner of the courtyard, trembling.
Not a trace remained of the ferocity they had shown while chasing the Snatcher.
“Tsk, tsk.”
A quiet chuckle came from beside the dry well.
The Snatcher, the barefoot giant everyone had been pursuing, still carried the sack over his shoulder, a sly and triumphant smile on his face.
“Enjoy yourselves.”
He turned, dragging the heavy sack with him as he strode into the darkness at the far end of the courtyard.
The muffled struggling from inside the sack gradually faded into the distance.
All that remained in the courtyard was the deathly pale monster and a crowd of trembling prey.
Torches fell to the ground one after another.
Their flickering light stretched the Brainsucker’s shadow across the entire wall.
No one dared move.
No one dared make a sound.
Only its tentacles continued to writhe slowly through the air, as though choosing its next victim.
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