4 A Legacy Inherited, A Gift Received

"Boy.", as Gehrman's voice rang once more to call him into the workshop, Jack forced his mind away from his new companion. His footing was even and sure as his teacher had shown. His hand held the rusty beast cutter by his side, ready for a moment in which it was needed, as the first hunter was not above backstabs and surprise attacks to drill vigilance into his final student… as well as to laugh while Jack was dragging himself off the ground after said "tests of vigilance"… Jack would pay this humiliation back tenfold he swore…

…in a couple of centuries…

…after surpassing his teacher…

He offered the older man the four small gems Elianore had given him, and was told to wait. Gherman's hands flew faster than his eyes could see, quickly setting the gems into some sort of contraption.

Jack focused back onto the semi wheelchair bound man who sat in front of a desk holding a package wrapped in… furred leather? Before he could ponder on where the material could have come from, it was unceremoniously thrown at his head. Only the endless reflex training saved him from being brained, despite this however the force still sent him skidding back a few inches.

Without prompting, the tightly wrapped package unraveled, stealing Jack's breath as the leather fell to the ground…

…revealing the silver serrated greatsword a little over five feet long and as wide as his arm. It was a strange shade of silver, one only he'd seen before in his own teacher's blade. Black marking were etched down from sword point to the hilt, in a language more foreign to him than Yharnam's strange letterings that Gherman had hammered into his head through frustration and misery on both their parts, however he could recognize the care that went into the etchings and distractedly noted them as he took in the simple hilt; black steel deliberately wrapped in whitened leathers, the contrast obviously meant to draw the eye. Before more could be taken in, Gehrman's voice shook him from his reverie.

"Siderite. Metal fallen from the heaven's themselves.", green eyes met steel gray as the older man continued on while his hands flew across the assortment of tools in front of him assembling something.

"Imbued with the arcane during its journey through the cosmos, marked in the language of the Ptumerians, heated in the blood of the ancient watchdog, slain by my own hands long ago. Infused with the echoes of blood hidden in shards and rocks. And quenched,", there was a pause as the man launched a second object at him, only just catching the new object with numb fingers.

"In the blood collected from every hunter to pass through this workshop, including my own.", callused hands gripped tightly onto the revealed weapon. The grip was wooden, however refused to give out under enough pressure to shatter steel as Jack tightened his grip; endless fighting without rest had pushed his body beyond what should be possible. Black metal glinted, revolving barrels extended from the grip, easily snapping open with a flick of his wrist to reveal nine empty slots, each four times the size of a normal quicksilver bullet.

Jack swallowed as he realized he was holding a miniature cannon; he'd have nine instant kills during a hunt as long as he could get close enough with his abyssal aim. The squared barrel was longer than what could be expected from a handgun according to Gehrman's teaching, however that was quickly forgotten as he noticed the engraving that matched his new blade.

"This is the Hunter's Revolver, or at least a close approximation of what it should have been had the Workshop not been discarded. Rather than the range and quantity that normal firearms offer, this beauty offers you great damage, with a cost of your ammunition. Nine shots, and only nine shots. It takes time to alter quicksilver bullets to fit the weapon, time you will not have when you are on the hunt. You will have only nine chances to end a battle in an instant. Use them well."

Numb hands cradled both weapons to his chest, the teacher allowing his student a moment to calm himself before offering one final gift. A claim to the world that would be all his own. A signature of his own, just as the Burial Blade was his so too would he make this blade a part of himself. Now all that was left was to give the blade a name.

"Grab the hilt with both hands, and twist." The teacher said, carefully studying his students' blank face.

A small twist and the greatsword was no more, replaced by something else…

Something marvelous…

"Come." Gherman's voice disturbed the reverie he'd fallen in.

He was grateful. Truly grateful to have something that was wholly his. It was another new feeling, one to be cherished.

XXXXXXXXXXXXX

His back met another headstone and broke right through it, a blade ghosted silently throught he air towards his throat only to meet his greatsword. For a moment, both master and student were airborne, and then they were gone.

A blur of pitch black shadows followed on the fringe of a white cloud. They danced among the sky for a time, sparks flying as they tested each other's defenses.

His teacher's scythe flashed and sent him straight into the ground. Jack forced himself into the air, meeting Gherman's plunge with his own blade. They were gone again.

XXXXXXXXX

Tornadoes followed in their wake, his teacher refused to hold back anymore. Every swing of his blade rent the small island amongst the frozen clouds under the blood moon, their only witness.

He was impaled yet again his own blade ripped from his hands for the deed, and dumped into the lap of Elianore once more to heal.

Soft hands gently brushed aside bloody bangs as his eyes closed once more. Small hands pulled at his clothes as multiple weights came to rest atop his body, warming him in the stagnant air.

XXXXXXXXXX

"Again."

A blunderbuss shell through his shoulder ended another battle lost.

"Again."

A scythe split his chest in two and sent him skidding across the ground, almost bursting through the fencing.

"Again."

He fell over and over and over.

"Again."

But each time he learned.

"Again."

Every time his sword moved, every time he nearly teleported across the island to escape his teacher's terrifyingly lethal lessons.

"Again."

He was just that much faster. That much stronger.

"Again."

Their battles lasted only a handful of seconds after he was given his unnamed greatsword and Revolver, his teacher no longer holding himself to the 'average' standard of a true hunter, and now they lasted minutes.

"Again."

His sword met the scythe and forced it back time and time again. His quickening had evolved, now truly allowing him to phase from reality for a time. The only respite he had from his lessons.

"Faster!"

He could do this.

"Try harder!"

He would prove to himself that he could become what his teacher had asked of him.

"RAAAGGHHH!" Gherman was bathed in moonlight. His every step consumed any kind of distance between the two. It was all Jack could do to stay one step ahead of the eldest hunter.

Moonlight matched the inky black clouds his form was covered in. Both their blades practically bled every time Jack was forced to clash with the older man, and every time he did they were both neay thrown from the island.

He was stabbed. Sliced. Nearly bisected. If he didn't have more broken bones than he had normal ones by the end of each battle, his teacher wouldn't allow them to stop until he lost consciousness.

It was hell.

But more surprising to himself?

He could take it.

And send it right back.

XXXXXXXXXXX

"You may rest."

Jack fell sprawled across the once pristine flowers of the clearing, painted red in his own blood. His hair, once an inky

"Fuck you old man." Fuck this wrinkly ass geezer. He could rot in hell for all Jack cared.

Sadistic bastard.

WHACK!

A peg leg crashing into his rib cage sent him curling up even further under the unamused eyes of the legendary scythe wielder.

"If you've got time to complain, I didn't hit you hard enough."

"Uuuuughhhhhh…"

"Honestly, what happened to the polite young man I took on as an apprentice? You used to be so respectful." And now he was being mocked by some old man stranded with his head in the clouds.

Great.

"He died from blood loss the fifth time you cut off his leg." His voice had deepened during his time under Gherman's care. A rasp followed behind his words with a small echo as he dragged himself towards the ever gentle hands of his caretaker.

Elianore was his guardian angel, and no one would ever take that from him.

"Before you fall prey to your blood loss once more." The older man offered in passing. "Prepare yourself, this will be your final reprieve from the hunt."

And with that, the silver haired man disappeared back into the workshop, leaving Jack once more seated against Elianore's side, her warm and soft body inviting him to rest once more.

XXXXXXXXXXX

"Dear hunter, won't you rest?" Elianore was concerned, Gherman was never that short with either of them, even when he was cutting her Jack into pieces.

Something was wrong.

Something had changed.

Three objects of great power had appeared in the dream, distorting their small paradise among the clouds. The little helpers had for the first time in memory refused to answer her questions, and had continued their small journeys outside the dream.

"Hmm?" He was confused as she was, but his body had already given out after returning to her side. Her body had well and truly become true flesh by now. Her hands and flesh all just as soft and real as her hand had been.

Her dear Jack's second gift to her was well and truly beyond any kind of hope she could have had.

As he had promised, he would not allow himself to fall apart before coming back to her.

"Close your eyes, and dream of the waking world." He was painfully young. He was painfully bright. His soul and presence gently pressed against her own, held tight against her as he was. And the doll, sorry, Elianore would have it no other way.

The time of the first hunter was coming to a true end. She could feel it in her new stuttering heartbeat. The beginning of a new era was upon them all.

And she would have the beginning of her hunter's reign over the hunt no other way than in her arms.

XXXXXXXX

Notes: Alright guys, this is important. I need y'alls input here. You have two options.

Option A: The story continues and this arc ends in the next chapter, beginning the yharnam arc.

Or

Option B: A small Omake from this story's future.

Pick your poison ladies and gents and let me know.