The messenger nodded its head in approval, with its open mouth and protruding small teeth, Surgit couldn’t understand what the messenger’s nod meant. Before he could say anything to it though, it disappeared again and reappeared holding a pistol. The pistol had a wooden hilt and a metallic barrel coated with wood. The elegant look gave it a feel of a miniature musket.

“I don’t like using these my friend, they’re too cumbersome. Besides, it takes time to reload them again.

The messenger made a growling sound and shook the pistol in his direction. It seemed like it wasn’t going to give up. Surgit then took it with a sigh and aimed it at a tree bark in the distance. He shot the pistol and he watched the bullet pierce through the bark, travelling further in the distance. He heard then a clicking noise and looked at the pistol. It was automatically reloading itself with silver bullets. Astonished at the power of the pistol, Surgit inspected its hilt and found a magazine holding six bullets in its chamber. The pistol apparently had been altered to allow quick successive shots. This weapon looked more appealing to Surgit at that moment and he decided to keep it. The messenger made another growl and Surgit turned around to look at it. At that moment, the messenger was holding a lamp with a dim blue flame in the middle. Surgit looked at the lamp and felt drawn to it. In the flame, he saw a picture. Small at first, he could barely see the content of the picture, the latter started expanding though and he started noticing some details. It looked like the room where he was chained beforehand in Yharnam. He didn’t understand how he could have such a clear vision from such a tiny flame. He stepped back and looked around.

Surgit found himself in the anteroom, surrounded by books and the smell of blood. He was back in Yharnam. It seemed that he teleported to this place by just looking at the lamp and its blue fire. Nothing had changed in the room, the chair and the binding belts were there, shelves full of syringes and blood. The only difference this time around was that Surgit was holding a saw on one hand and pistol on the other. He felt safer and more confident. He thought of the werewolf he had encountered downstairs and he wondered if it was still there. Hurriedly, he looked around the room for some leather straps to make a holster for his pistol. It was growing heavier on his arms and if he had to fight using the saw, he preferred to keep the pistol for emergencies. He managed to attach some strips together on his waste from the binding belts on the chair and made a somewhat convenient holster.

His only concern now was the werewolf downstairs. Could he fight it? Would he survive this time? What happens if he gets struck again by an axe or by the beast’s claws? As these thoughts raced through his mind, he heard a noise at the door, turning around to look at the source; his feet were immobilized by fear. The werewolf was at the door, baring its fangs at him. There was nowhere to escape to. The only exit was the one the beast was blocking. “Upstairs!” he exclaimed in his mind as Surgit made for the stairs leading to the room where he awoke the first time. He ran upstairs with the beast at his heals. He was going to try and close the door at the beast again and then think of a strategy. As he reached the upper floor, he found the door closed. “Oh no….” he turned around to look at the beast. He swore he saw it smiling. He tried to move but to no avail. The sight of the beast was unnerving, and looking at it preparing to attack him made his limbs tremble with fear. He could not control his feelings; he knew what was going to happen next. As the werewolf jumped at him, he felt its fangs penetrate his chest. He felt his flesh getting ripped apart and the pain searing through his veins. He felt the werewolf’s fangs bite into his flesh and with a screeching scream and tears in his eyes, Surgit lost consciousness.