It was almost disappointing.
He had only entered the fight to clash against all three of the Fallen Spawn at the same time, yet two of them had fallen within minutes of him appearing.
Did that mean Artorias was stronger than them? No, that was far from the truth.
He was simply smarter, and fought primarily through trickery and confusion, landing crippling blows whenever the chance presented itself.
It was a unique style of fighting that was born from his limited talent to step through shadows and a frail body, prioritising his survival and longevity in a fight.
But now, with his body slowly getting back to its former self and the versatility granted to him by two other abilities, his fighting style was finally starting to become a deadly battle art.
All of that alone would have ensured he survived the clash between them relatively unscathed. But it was the mantis's own arrogance that brought their downfall.
Fighting a Ghoul, even one that was injured, at the mere Rank of Monster was something only fools with a death wish would attempt to do.
'Yet here I am, about to fight the same abomination as a mere Grade 1 Ascended. Who here truly is the fool?'
Standing on two legs the size of tree trunks, this abomination seemed bipedal, using its remaining arm with a deadly blade attached to it, to keep itself standing. Its upper body was covered in a teal colouring, whilst its bottom was a light red.
Over its entire body, ridges of small green horns spread, leading to its thick tail that housed dozens of green needle-like spikes which he knew it could send flying with a flick of its tail.
On its back sat six red spheres, very likely serving a similar evolutionary purpose that camels also had with their humps. Its face was similar to that of a predatory dinosaur.
Scaly, large and with a snapping jaw at the end of its maw like that of a turtle.
Two glowing yellow eyes stared him down, black blood flowing from its jaw.
It stomped its foot at him, all the warning it was willing to give before charging at him, its maw splitting apart with a ferocious roar.
Instinctually he stepped into the shadows, appearing a few buildings away next to the decapitated body of the mantis the Ghoul had crushed earlier.
Skilfully sheathing his katana, he threw the bag on his back over his shoulder and on the ground, all but ripping it open.
Reaching desperately for the obsidian claws he had stolen off The Storm Weaver.
He heard the muscles of the Ghoul tensing before his danger sense even blared. Curing under his breath, he ripped his eyes to the side and pulled on the shadows, avoiding a volley of spikes.
He appeared only a moment later in the shadow of another ruined building, his hands finally grasping onto one of the curved hooks before he had to jump to his right.
A set of spikes pierced the wall he had been sitting against not a second sooner, embedding themselves thoroughly in the concrete.
With the lightning in his chest surging through his muscles and veins, he pushed of the ground with all the strength he had and forced his legs to move, barely avoiding another volley of spikes.
He would have been terrified, the version of him before Seirios' death would be, but fear had long since abandoned him.
Instead, all he felt right now was glee, excitement at fighting against something that could make him feel so much
With a dangerous grin, he pulled on the shadows once more and focused his sight on the Ghouls shadow.
He appeared besides its face; his arm already raised with the deadly obsidian claw in hand. His muscles tensed as he enhanced them, before he stabbed into the hardened scales on its jaw and dragged it down to its neck.
The Ghoul didn't bother reacting to the pain, instead lashing out with its remaining arm to grab his body.
With too little space between them, and his sight focused entirely on where he was dragging the claw across its body, all he could do was tense as his danger sense screamed at him.
Artorias twisted his head as quickly as humanly possible, even hearing something in his neck click, but it was in vain.
Even with all his enhanced speed, this was still a Fallen Spawn at the Rank of Ghoul, no matter how quick he was, at such a limited distance the abomination would always be quicker.
He felt himself wheeze at the impact, his bones creaking and his ribcage protesting and beginning to crack as the Ghoul began to squeeze with all its terrifying might.
Through the pain that threatened to make him close his eyes, he caught onto a shadow and pulled with all the mental strength he had, becoming swallowed into its realm a moment later.
His healing factor began to work through his damaged bones almost instantly, as the realm of shadows pushed him out again.
He appeared before the Ghoul with a tumble, his lips parting to release a crazed laugh that ended in a wheeze.
That had been close.
'But what a sensation! Truly, there was no greater feeling than fighting for your life and escaping by the skin of your teeth!'
He pointed the hooked claw in his hand at the bleeding abomination and smirked through the blood flowing down his chin.
"Just for that, I'm going to eat you when I kill you!" he proclaimed with another wheezing laugh.
The Ghoul growled at him, before lunging for him again with another snap of its jaws.
He danced back swiftly, the lightning in his chest burning so brightly he was beginning to feel pain building from it once again.
"Yes, you twisted bastard! Once again, make me feel like that again!"
He avoided another wild bite of its jaw before leaping forward. Its beaked jaw widened to swallow him whole, but he dissolved into shadows faster than it could react.
Appearing on one of the many rooftops surrounding them, he couldn't help but hiss in pain.
Whilst he had been in its grasp for only a few seconds, its strength was that of a powerful Ghoul, capable of destroying entire towns in a rampage on its own.
The fact he had come out of it with only some cracked bones and internal bleeding was a miracle.
The Ghoul roared its displeasure at his disappearance, but he didn't pay it any attention.
Whilst he may have acted happy at it causing him harm, that was far from the truth. Even through the exhilarating high he was feeling right now, he could still think logically.
And the logical conclusion he had reached…was that he stood no chance.
Hubris was a deadly thing to fall into, and Artorias, in his struggle to deal with his emotional numbness and impending fight with the chimera, had fallen directly into it.
Pride and arrogance were two sides of the same coin, and after so many victories against weaker abominations, he had taken that coin, flipped it and watched as it fell directly on its centre.
Solthia had told him to live, yet here he was, fighting against a Fallen Spawn of the Rank of Ghoul for just the chance to feel an emotion other than anger.
'This…this is not healthy…'
He had known that all along but facing certain death in the grasps of an abomination many times his superior had made him wake up and momentarily come to his sense.
The high was still there, but through those burning emotions, his fear of death finally emerged.
'I…I…this isn't me…it can't be me…'
A foreign thought, one he hadn't considered in a long time, finally came to him.
'Who am I?'
That was a loaded question on its own.
Was he the Artorias who feared death…or was he the Artorias who gladly entered its grasp just to feel a lick of emotion?
'I…am I really any of them?'
Through the high, through the cracks of his mind and the lingering sensation of death holding him so closely…
…Artorias finally crumpled, he finally broke.
Because he wasn't numb, he wasn't some hollow being who felt nothing but anger.
He was shattered, broken by his survival and the deaths of his friends.
Artorias didn't lose his emotions; he had buried them.
In his loss, in his breaking mind and sanity, he had latched onto the one emotion that was easiest to feel.
Because at the very root of it all, he was angry.
He was angry at himself for failing to save two people he held close to his heart.
He was angry at the Fallen Spawn who had taken them away.
He was angry at the world, for creating a society so twisted that it sacrificed hundreds of thousands for nothing.
He was angry with his father, for making him a part of such a ruined world.
Artorias had perverted his cousin's final wish. He had forsaken Solthia's last words.
He had betrayed them as thoroughly as he betrayed himself.
That realisation, that understanding was the final nail in the metaphorical coffin.
For the first time in weeks, he felt something other than anger. Despair and grief finally manifested themselves in their rawest form, and he cried.
Choking, painful sobs wracked through his body.
On that rooftop, hidden from the rampaging Ghoul and in the chilling embrace of the roosting Fiend…
…Artorias finally grieved.