Guts sheathed the Dragonslayer across his back. Drew a smaller blade from his belt. And in one motion, without looking, hurled it past her head—into the beam above the throne.
Guts grunted, adjusting the cannon-arm’s weight. Thinking about Griffith was like picking at a wound that would never close. It bled philosophy and rage in equal measure.
He walked into the darkening woods, the brand on his neck throbbing a dull, rhythmic ache. Behind him, the children’s sobs faded. Ahead, the trees grew twisted, their bark weeping sap like amber tears. berserk.manga
“That village three miles east. Still standing?”
The small elf fluttered from behind his cloak, where he’d been hiding from the wind. “Yeah, boss?” Guts sheathed the Dragonslayer across his back
Or what was left of it. The steeple had been punched inward, as though by a giant’s fist. Inside, the pews were stacked into a crude throne, and on that throne sat a woman whose beauty was a blade—pale hair, lips the color of a fresh scar, and eyes that held the same hungry patience as a spider at the center of its web.
And in the darkness between worlds, the beast inside Guts opened its red eyes and laughed. Guts grunted, adjusting the cannon-arm’s weight
From the shadows behind the altar, children emerged. Dozens of them. Their eyes were hollow, their mouths sewn shut with black thread, and each one held a rusted knife. They moved in a shuffling wave toward Guts, silent as snowfall.