We had descended deep into the foul womb of Darkness, yet despite the leagues we had painted in tones of black and crimson, my rage had not faded. Flame rolled along my forearms, pooling like coiled vipers perched atop my palms, captured in the cages of my trembling fists. Within, I felt the Dark and Flame clash, a thrumming like ten heartbeats slamming against my ribs, and with each step I drew upon it all the more. The hand of my mind had closed over the fringe between unstoppable forces, and their strength had become mine. Ash drifted from my shoulders, trailed like a nebulous cloak behind me, yet I felt pain no longer.

Gehrman laughing cruelly, his scythe biting into my neck. A flare of warmth that courses through my flesh, turning skin to iron, repelling his weapon moments before it grinds against my bones. 

My fists clenched tighter, leaking tendrils of flame like rivers of sand flowing between closing fingers.

Or'do weeping as he holds me, his weary heart cracking as we drift in the void.

I gritted my teeth, restraining a howl of fury that clawed at my chest, climbing with the desperation of a drowning man toward my lips.

The Keeper shivering, fading as my heart slows.

My hand passed through another door, shattering it like a pane of glass. Anger turned the inferno of pain that swelled along my arm into a tidal wave of something like ecstasy, yet several shades darker. The more agony I felt, the more powerful I became.
Gehrman would not survive this time.
And neither, would I.