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Castoff: Casting off Destiny (Berserk/Witcher 3) (ch.1)
🕑 Added 2019-12-28 23:39:42 +0000 UTCThis is a story idea that I've been tossing around in my head for about a year now, and watching the Witcher series on Netflix inspired me to write it out. I'm not certain if this will become a fully-fledged story, but if there's an overwhelming demand for it to be, then I'll do my best to fit it into my schedule.
...
“Pweh?!” Puck sputtered, feeling...something wash over him. It was like the ocean waves, it started off gently then, before he knew it, the top of a wave came crashing down and dragged him underneath the surface. His skin felt all tingly and sensitive, Guts’ rough leather pouch grating on him -- usually it was the perfect place for a nap, but now it felt cramped and suffocating.
Reaching out with an arm, he struggled to feed a bone button through the hole, but once he did Puck darted out. It took a second for his eyes to adjust to low light that managed to slip through a thick canopy of leaves and branches from the forest that surrounded him. Looking around, he saw a dying campfire and a giant black lump that was Guts with Dragonslayer in hand. That was rare, he was sleeping at night.
“What was that?” Puck asked himself darting around in search of whatever that feeling was. Already, his skin was becoming less tingly, the sensation of whatever it was already fading. It lingered just long enough to help him put his finger on it. It might have been years since he was home, but there was no mistaking the feeling of magic.
Outside of Alphelm, magic was so very rare that it might as well not exist. Feeling it again after so long was like a slap in the face. Especially when it was that strong...only now Puck was left wondering why exactly he was feeling magic again so suddenly in the middle of some random swamp.
With his trusty burdock in hand, Puck began his search. He circled trees, overturned stones, checked and doubled checked the shrubbery, only finding a rabbit that took off. With an annoyed huff, Puck turned his attention upwards. If he wasn’t finding anything nearby, then maybe he needed to look further away? It was as good of an idea as any, so he waited no time taking off.
He punched through the thick canopy, twigs, and leaves breaking off as he zoomed by. The moonlight got stronger and stronger until he was basking in it directly above a bog, or a swamp. Puck wasn't sure if there was a difference, but the low hanging mist gave it a bog feel to it. It was a really big one too -- but, to his left, he saw an ocean that had some kind of tower built on an island at the center of it. To the northeast, there looked like there was some kind of city, or village, or whatever humans called places where they lived. It was maybe a day’s walk away, maybe two.
“Whoa!” Puck gasped, cupping his eyes so he could get a better view.
He still didn’t see what caused that wave of magic to wash over him. “This doesn't make any sense,” Puck mused, idly spinning around in thought. He didn’t know much about magic, or anything at all really, but he had enough experience with it to know when he felt it, usually because mages were throwing spells when they chased him around back home. They were definitely hit with a wave of it.
“Were we hit on accident?” He wondered, having to stop spinning because he was getting dizzy. If whoever was casting the spell wasn’t nearby, then it must have been a massive one. What it did, Puck didn’t have the slightest clue, but it must have done something. It also had to mean whoever cast the spell was as strong as the Elf King. At least.
Puck stared blankly for a moment, nothing running through his mind before he gave a careless shrug, “Meh, I’ll just tell Guts.” He decided, lazily drifting down. It was clear that they weren’t the target for the spell because nothing happened to them, so why worry about it? Guts would decide what they did, so his job was done as far as he was concerned. With that thought in mind, Puck hummed a cheery tune as he reentered their campsite.
“Yo, Guts! Wakey, wakey!” Puck yelled out, floating in front of the human’s face. It was hard to tell how old humans were most of the time. Usually, he went by wrinkles and size, but he knew that humans were meant to look younger when they were asleep. Guts just looked older.
His square jaw was clenched hard enough that muscles spasmed, his short black hair was plastered to his sweaty skin, his breathing was ragged...Puck had been traveling with Guts for a while now, and he still hadn’t seen the human get a good night’s rest. His sleep was plagued by nightmares that he never spoke about, though that didn’t mean Puck didn’t have an idea of what they were.
Puck fell silent, watching Guts twitch in his sleep, wondering if he should let him rest. Guts only did it every other day, and even then it was only for a few hours at most. A sigh escaped Puck, feeling the dark emotions roll off Guts in waves as he sunk deeper into his nightmare. With his decision made, he shot forward and began to smack his companion on the face with his small hand, “OIIII! Wake up!”
Guts’ eyes snapped open- Puck had to stop himself, his own eyes going wide enough they could have fallen right out of his head as he shakily pointed, “Guts your eyes!” He shouted, Guts snapping to attention. They were a dark brown that almost looked black, but that wasn’t the issue. It was the fact that he had eyes. As in, two of them.
“What-” Guts muttered more to himself than Puck, putting a gauntlet clad hand over his old eye so he could look through his returned one. Puck just gaped at him, a lone dark eye darting up to look at him.
“You regrew your eye! Can humans do that?!” Puck shouted, circling Guts to see if he grew eyes anywhere else. A thought struck him, “what about your arm? Did you grow that back too?!”
Guts responded with actions instead of words, he pushed aside his thick, tattered black cloak to reveal pitch-black armor that he never seemed to take off. Shrugging off his cloak revealed...a metal hand. Puck felt disappointed for Guts because that would have been pretty cool. Though, having a cannon in your arm was pretty cool too…
“The hell?” Guts asked no one particular, staring at his prosthetic for a long moment. Then he stood without any warning, testing his body, his brow furrowing deeper and deeper. “The hell?” He repeated, unable to keep the surprise out of his tone as he stretched his arms. “My body feels...great?”
“Hey, don’t ignore me!” Puck demanded, smacking his burdock against Guts’ head, only for the brute to keep on ignoring him. “Guuuuuuuuuuuuuuts!”
“I’m missing some old injuries,” Guts’ explained after a moment, shrugging off some of his armor with well-practiced ease. Even one-handed, he managed to take off his chest plate within a few seconds, revealing a torn and tattered black sleeveless shirt. After taking that off, Guts began inspecting his body, anxiety pouring off him. Puck didn’t need the ability to sense emotions to know that.
Now that he mentioned it, Puck realized he was right. A few scars that should be there weren’t, from deep long ones from major battles to cuts from where vengeful spirits got a lucky strike in. And he looked...a little less muscular? He was still easily the most powerfully built human Puck had ever seen, but his muscles looked like they were a little less likely to rip free of the pale skin covering them.
“I’m shorter too,” Guts mused, his eyes narrowed into slits. Puck gave him a once over and...no, he was still utterly massive. Though, when you were only a few inches tall, everything seemed massive. Guts was just extra, extra massive. If he said he was shorter than Puck had to believe him.
“Weird,” Puck summarized, tilting his head as he floated around Guts, who continued to test his body. “So, maybe that spell was targeting us?”
“What did you just say?” Guts growled, jerking his head up so sharply that he nearly headbutted Puck. If his one-eyed glare was scary then a two-eyed one was downright terrifying.
“Er, oh! That’s why I woke you up! I felt magic again! I guess it must have been one heck of a healing spell or something,” Puck quickly explained, waving his hands in surrender. Over the months, their friendship had become...well, a friendship but Guts had a nasty temper at the best of times and he didn’t want to be banished to his pouch, only to be brought out to be used as medicine.
“Magic?” Guts questioned, looking unsure before he shook his head. “No, I shouldn’t be surprised. Do you know who cast it?” Puck shook his head, floating around Guts’ shoulders, catching him frown deeply. He went silent for a moment, thinking before a huff of air escaped through his nose. “Then there’s no point dwelling on it. They healed me, and if they don’t want to be known, then I doubt I could track them.”
“That’s…” Unusually accepting, Puck finished silently.
"Are you sure you don't want to hunt them down and do your usual routine?" Puck pestered, throwing on a scrap of cloth while his burdock stuck out in a similar manner as Guts' sword did. "Who are you and what did you do to me?" Puck mimicked Guts' growly voice he used whenever he was intimidating someone. For the longest time, Puck simply thought that was his voice but his recent interactions with Jill proved him wrong.
"Because they aren't here. They undid years of damage without me noticing until I woke up -- I'm betting that they don't want to be found, and if they don't, then I'll never find them," Guts explained, shrugging on his shirt. As he did so, Puck's gaze landed on his brand on the side of his neck.
He still didn't have to full story behind it, but he understood what that brand meant. Those godhand people marked him as a sacrifice -- meaning, someone had sacrificed Guts to become an apostle. Somehow, in spite of all odds, Guts survived long enough to make it to him so Puck could heal him after every fight.
It was only because he traveled with Guts for nearly a year that he noticed his tone. Puck couldn’t quite figure out his tone, but, if he didn’t know better, he would say that Guts sounded afraid.
With that, Guts put on his armor in silence. He kicked some dirt on the dying fire before he hooked Dragonslayer on a chain that served as a sheath. Guts gave one last look at the tree line, his eyebrows drawn together as his jaw clenched then he started walking down a path.
“Hey! Wait up!” Puck called out, flying forward before he dove back into his- Guts’ pouch, sticking his head out to see the road. They traveled in silence for a long time, trees making it impossible to tell how long they traveled or how far. Eventually, as it always was, it was Puck that broke it.
“Hey, Guts?” He started, waiting until Guts let out a grunt to tell him that he heard, “are you okay?”
Guts let out a noise that sounded like it could have been a laugh if it hadn’t died a brutal death by Guts. “I feel better than I have in years. Seeing out of two eyes is going to mess with my depth perception, I guess,” he answered, the nervousness and anxiety simmering underneath betrayed his words.
“...That’s not what I meant, you know,” Puck pointed out. He wasn’t surprised when he didn’t get an answer.
…
There were times that Guts was nearly glad for his brand. As much as it attracted monsters and lost souls to him, forcing him to fight for his life, but as much as it lead them to him, it also lead him to them. Without the searing pain in his neck, as it wept blood, he would have never noticed that something was stalking him in the bog.
His eyes -- and it was going to take him a long time to get used to seeing through two eyes again -- scanned the bog, every shadow a suspect. A faint mist hung around the ground, the soft muck threatening to claim his boots with every step. It might have had some success if it wasn’t for the fact that Guts had long since adapted to traveling at night, so the crescent moon above offered plenty of light so he could take the most secure path.
He gave no sign that he noticed as he steadily followed the pain in his neck. The more it hurt, the closer he was. It was rudimentary, but it worked well enough. Still, he didn’t like this. Something healed him, undoing years of damage accumulated, and now there was an apostle lurking in the shadows?
All of the wounds that are gone...were caused by apostles. The stiffness in his fingers was gone that he had since Slug Count tossed him around, not to mention countless other little aches and pains that fight caused him. His hearing was a lot sharper, healed from whatever damage Rosine caused with those loud explosions.
The ones that remained all came from mortal hands. The cut across the bridge of his nose, his missing arm and the aches in his shoulder from the kickback of the cannon in his prosthetic.
Something about this stunk to high heaven, and Guts didn’t trust it one bit.
“Guts...I’m hungry,” Puck groaned into his ear for the third time in the past minute. For the third time, Guts ignored him as he made his way through the swamp, spotting what seemed to be a path. Puck said that there was civilization to the left, so once he reached it, Guts walked right. The pain in his neck flared, telling him that he was going the right way.
“Guuuuuutts! Stop ignoring me, and feed me! Catch a fish! Or, a swamp eel! Something before I starve to death,” Puck whined at him, pinching his cheek to get his attention. Guts continued to ignore him as he walked down the path, the pain in his neck growing with every step. This was beyond mere vengeful spirits or reanimated corpses. It felt like someone was pressing a red hot poker into his neck -- that kind of pain only came when he was near an apostle.
Puck huffed at him, letting go of his cheek as he settled in around the tattered hood of his cloak. A small mercy. If it wasn’t for his healing powder, Guts would have left the elf behind a long time ago. More than once, he tried when Puck became too irritating to be worth it.
Through the mist, Guts spotted what looked like a building. More than one. A hamlet in the middle of a bog? That raised some questions. He approached cautiously, a hand drifting up to Dragonslayer, stepping closer until he stood in the center of three buildings. The muck around the small buildings were well-walked paths, the largest of them seemed to be some kind of church, while a patch of green stood in the center.
In the center of lush green grass was a stone altar covered red handprints that looked like they were placed by a child. A dark spot of dried blood stained the top of it.
“Guts…” unlike before, Puck wasn’t trying to annoy him. He sounded afraid as they both stared at the alter. Guts hadn’t seen anything like it before, but he could feel...something coming off it. Like a miasma of fifth that left him feeling like he desperately needed to bathe. It felt vile. Evil, even. It meant that he was in the right place.
Slowly, Guts turned around, his gaze sweeping over the buildings in search of the searing pain in his neck. The silence was deafening, not so much as a single cricket to be heard. He waited for whatever that lurked in the shadows to make the first move. It didn’t.
So, he simply had to go to it.
Despite his heavy armor, the massive sword on his back, and his size, Guts moved soundlessly across the small hamlet towards the first of the buildings. They were a single story, made of wood with thatched roofing. They didn’t appear to be run down or rotting -- if anything, the roofing looked fresh. Someone was clearly living here.
Reaching out with his prosthetic hand, Guts gently pushed the door open. The hinges barely made a sound, telling him that they were well oiled. Inside, in the low light, Guts made out supplies. Sacks of grain, apples, cabbages and more. He saw castle larders that were emptier than this place, all without a single rat in sight. Though, he saw ingredients as well -- herbs that he didn’t recognize, jars filled with fluids, among other things. Regardless, what he sought wasn't here.
Closing the door, Guts walked across the uneven wood planks that were set where the muck was at its worst to approach the other small building. Just as before, Guts pushed open the door, only this time instead of seeing a larder, he saw something far worse.
Children. Half a dozen of them sleeping soundly with thin blankets covering them. A few boys and a few girls, none of them looked to be related because he saw redheads, blondes and brunettes.
“Aw, don’t wake them,” Puck whispered at him when Guts made to step inside. The house looked much the same as any house he had ever been in -- a hearth with a pot hanging over it, a pile of hay that served as bedding for the kids, a table and that was about it. On the far end, Guts saw another bed, this one resided an elderly woman. She slept as soundly as the children -- possibly the apostle he was looking for, but the pain in his neck wasn’t bad enough.
None of them were the apostle.
“Hmph…?” One of the kids muttered sleepily, shifting in her sleep to turn to stare directly at Guts as if she could sense his presence. They made eye contact, deep green eyes staring into his dark brown, and the child simply stared at him. Guts was at a loss -- he didn’t know how to handle kids, but fortunately, they were one of the few things that Puck was good with.
“Hey there sleepyhead,” Puck greeted in a stage whisper, darting out of Guts’ cloak to hover in front of the girl. “You look awfully tired, don’t you want to go back to bed?” He asked, floating in front of her face.
“...hnn? What are you?” The girl muttered, lying back down to stare at Puck.
“I’m an elf,” Puck informed, planting his hands on his hips and throwing on a great big smile. He might be only a few inches tall, but he made up for it with his big personality. However, the girl shook her head as she fought off a yawn.
“Yer not an elf,” she argued tiredly. “Elves are big like normal people. And you have blue hair,” she muttered, her face scrunching up in confusion. All the while Guts narrowed his eye in thought. She wasn’t surprised by the existence of elves? It could be a case of a child deciding that she knew what an elf looked like, but usually, with that kind of rigid thinking, then the kid wouldn’t be able to see Puck in the first place.
“Ah, then what do you think I am then?” Puck asked in a singsong voice rather than his typical screeching.
“...a fairy?” The girl hazarded a guess, making Puck clap his hands lightly.
“Exactly right,” Puck liked as he went to bring up her blanket until it was tucked underneath her chin. “And do you know what that means?”
“No?”
“It means you’re going to have the best of dreams about rivers of juice and fish, mountains of candy and every single cake in existence.” It sounded like Puck was just describing his own dreams to Guts. The girl muttered a tired ‘really’ before he continued, “really. But you have to go back to sleep. Sweet dreams…” Puck whispered as he floated away.
Guts watched the kid, her breathing becoming deep and even, fast asleep once again. He was almost jealous of how easily she fell asleep. He slept once every two days, and even then nightmares woke him up within a few hours. He hadn’t had a full night's sleep in years.
Not wanting to ruin Puck’s work, Guts silently stepped outside the home and closed the door behind him. Right. Only one building left.
“Guts, I have a really bad feeling about this,” Puck muttered to him, perched on his shoulder.
“Did you pick anything up from the kids?” Guts asked, knowing that Puck could feel emotions. Normally, that ability of his was pretty useless, but now it could give a hint on just what was going on here. Did those kids know that they were living with an apostle? Were they here of their own will? Or were they stolen from their homes, or worse, sacrificed to keep a monster at bay?
“She didn’t seem scared, or anything. Just sleepy and confused,” Puck answered, making Guts frown. So the kids didn’t know. Hopefully, they wouldn’t get involved when he killed the apostle.
Puck fell silent when they approached the last building. Unlike the other two, it was two stories tall, made of oak logs sealed with tar. Despite being in a bog, the building almost looked brand new. No signs of rot, vegetation growth, or anything. Like this hamlet was a small paradise surrounded by muck and mud. Like the other two houses, Guts approached soundlessly and pushed open the door.
This time Guts was in the right place. Inside was nearly bare, the wood floor giving way to dirt that lead to a large tapestry of three beautiful women. Dozens of candles illuminated it, making the shadows longer and darker. Cautiously, Guts stepped forward into the center of the large room, noting that there was next to nothing in here except for the tapestry that nearly covered the wall. Lines of whispy twine connected the tapestry to shelves, pillars -- almost like it was some kind of spider web.
Puck shivered as Guts came to a stop, a deep sense of unease filling him. The pain in his neck grew, the brand seeping blood until it ran like a river to soak his shirt, but Guts paid it no mind. A stray wind that carried an unnatural chill entered through the door, making the candles flicker until they went out. As soon as they did, the whispers started. Barely audible, so low that, for the briefest of seconds, Guts thought he was hearing things.
However, they got louder. The words were a jumbled mess, just low enough that he couldn’t make out what was being said, but it turned Guts’ blood to ice in his veins.
Even still, Guts turned around, a hand on Dragonslayer to stare out of the doorway as mist leaked inside. Just over the whispers and Puck’s teeth chattering, Guts heard them. Footsteps. The shuffling of dirt, the sound of grass being stepped on, then weight being pressed down on the wood. He didn’t see who it was until they were crossing the threshold into the building.
The first was a hunched over old crone wearing a red cap, flies buzzing around her. One eye was covered with a bloodied bandage while the other was almost looked like a honeycomb that the flies entered and left. Her nose was large and covered with warts, her hair looked like it was made of straw. The hag was dressed in rags, a noose around her neck with a pair of what looked to be children's legs dangling from her waist.
“Another visitor? An unexpected one too,” she croaked, her voice grating on his ears as she stepped inside, letting another creature walk inside. Another hunched over woman, only her face was covered in a bright red woven mask. The apron she wore was bloodied with what seemed to be fresh blood, her unnaturally long arms ended with claw-like hands.
“He’s handsome! A suitor? Ah, it’s been so very long since I’ve been seduced…” The other one spoke in a shrill voice, making Puck flinch and hide inside his cloak.
“No,” a third one began, this one the most grotesque by far. Large and bulbous, the skin that she revealed was an unnatural pink and covered with blemishes and boils. A basket kept her face from view, but Guts couldn’t help but think that her voice didn’t match her body at all. In her arms was another girl -- a normal human that a quick glance at her told him. “A sacrifice.”
“Ohhh! A sacrifice!” The first chirped, going to flank him on the left while the other one went right.
“An outlander?” The one on his right croaked, looking Guts up and down. His brand throbbed painfully as his grip tightened on his sword.
“A struggler that escaped the grasp of Destiny! Oh, how very rare.” The center one observed, not so gently tossing the girl to the side. Guts didn’t dare look away from the apostles that were making to surround him, but he caught a glimpse of steel. The girl was armed.
“What brings you here Struggler?” The one on his left questioned, using the same name that Skull Knight called him. Despite the situation, Guts’ heartbeat remained at a steady pace, his breathing even as he prepared himself for what was to come. Three on one. He could win. He had to go into every fight with that belief, otherwise, he would certainly be defeated.
Guts glanced at all three of them, idly noting that they stunk of old blood and rot before he spoke. “Before we begin,” he started, his voice even. “Did you have a hand in healing me?” He asked, curious if he had been healed with an apostle’s abilities.
“Healed?” The one on the right echoed, cocking her head at him like a bird.
“The Struggler smells of old magic,” the one in the center commented.
“And profaned blood and darkness and death!” The one on the left continued, sounding absolutely giddy at the prospect.
“But no, we had no hand in your restoration, Struggler,” the center one finished, answering his question. She moved seductively, a malformed hand going to her breasts, a hip cocked -- a pose that Guts recognized from prostitutes looking for work back when the Band of Hawks were just another group of mercenaries.
So he couldn’t solve that mystery with a neat bow. Unfortunate.
With nothing else to say, Guts sprung into action. Despite the other two apostles flanking him, he went for the fat one in the center as he unsheathed his sword, slashing at the one on his right as he dashed forward. The moment Dragonslayer made contact with her, the apostle erupted into a murder of crows, making his sword swing through her. That was fine.
“Oh-” The center one began as Guts angled Dragonslayer parallel with the ground before he thrust the oversized sword into the fat apostle. It punched through the center of her chest with enough force that it knocked her out of the door frame, letting him escape the building. The murder of crows followed them out, and instantly Guts realized something was wrong.
Along the wound he gave the apostle, veins of grotesque flesh began to race down his blade, like roots of a tree to keep him from tearing Dragonslayer free.
“Oh, it’s been some time since a man penetrated me so deeply,” the apostle flirted, the veins of flesh intersecting, growing and pulsating with every moment. She raised a malformed hand to strike him, forcing Guts to switch tactics. If he couldn’t rip his blade free then he would just have to cut it out.
Gritting his teeth, Guts dodged the blow as he switched his grip while his prosthetic pressed against the underside of his sword. Pushing up, Guts lifted the apostle into the air as she was still attached to his sword before he sent her crashing down into the dirt. She landed with a loud ‘oomph’ that Guts silenced by planting a boot on her basket covered face to use the new angle to rip Dragonslayer free.
The veins of flesh tried to keep Dragonslayer in its place, but they gave way when Guts gave a savage pull. Blackish blood spilled onto the ground as Guts took a half step back, narrowly dodging a frustrated swipe at his legs. As he stepped onto the muck, at first he thought the shifting underneath his boots was the mud but when he felt two hands grab his legs, he realized that wasn’t the case.
Glancing down, Guts saw Red Mask was half-buried in the mud, her claw-like hands keeping him in place. “How rude of you, Struggler,” she hissed as the fat one pushed herself up onto her feet. All the while, Guts’ hand went to a pouch filled with miniature explosives. Striking them on his armor, he dropped them onto the apostle’s face.
The apostle let go of him, likely sensing the danger, and allowed Guts to jump away before a small explosion rang out where he dropped the mine. Guts rolled to his feet, spotting the crows that circled him overhead. A hand dipped down to the bandolier of knives across his chest and sent a few of them flying at the birds.
One struck home while the other crow managed to get out of the way fast enough. The crow that was struck curled into itself, falling to the ground, but before it landed, the bird crumpled to ash until the only thing left of it was the knife that landed in the mud. Guts didn’t know if that hurt her, but, one way or another, he was going to find out.
“He brought toys from his sphere,” Basket commented as she rose to her feet. The area where Guts had stabbed her hadn’t quite healed, but the flesh around the wound bulged until only a trickle of blackish blood stained her torn dress. “And take care with that sword of his. He’s spilled so much profaned blood with it that it has soaked into the iron.”
“Interesting!” The one made of crows spoke, the murder of crows merging together as she approached from behind him. “First a child with the Elder Blood and now this Struggler? We have been blessed with luck tonight, my sisters!” Crow hissed as Red Mask emerged from the ground like she was stepping out of water.
“Guts…” Puck whispered to him, bringing his attention to the house with the children inside of it. The elderly woman peeked out of the door, while the kids poked their heads out wherever they could. He made eye contact with the redhead before, her gaze filled with fear but Guts couldn’t tell if it was of him or the apostles. He supposed it didn’t matter.
“And a spirit of the wind?” Basket observed, making Puck flinch before he dove back into the safety of his cloak. “Ah, what a treat you are. I’ll be sure to drain you down to the last drop!” If she meant blood, or something else, Guts didn’t know and didn’t care to find out.
“Not interested,” Guts rejected flatly as he rushed towards Basket. She lashed out with a hand, the malformed limb growing rapidly until it was nearly the size of him. Guts didn’t so much as blink as he leaped into the air, glancing down just in time to see that Red Mask was attempting to grab hold of him again. Twisting, Guts brought Dragonslayer down on the offending limb of Basket, the rough edge of his sword tearing through the limb rather than cutting through.
“Ahhh!” Basket screeched, clutching at her new stump as what was left of her arm shrunk back down to a normal size. The severed limb itself rotted away within a moment, already half gone by the time Guts landed heavily in the muck. By the time he went to press the attack, it was already gone entirely. Basket backpedaled, eager to get away from him.
Guts would have pressed forward but a murder of crows rushed towards him, cutting him off. Tsking to himself, Guts turned Dragonslayer so the flat of the blade was facing towards them and he smacked nearly half a dozen of the birds. They fell to the ground while the others flew off, cawing and screeching in the near soundless bog -- it was a distraction that lasted for only a moment, but that was all they needed. Basket was gone.
Again, he stood alone in the hamlet, his heart steadily pounding in his chest as he was forced to wait for them to make the next move.
“He hurt us,” Basket whispered, the mockery of a seductive tone gone from her voice that seemed to come from everywhere around him.
“He made us bleed!” Crow echoed an edge of ice-cold hate in her words. At the very least, he was making progress in killing them.
“We should return the favor,” Red Mask finished as the mist got thicker. It rolled into the hamlet, surging like it was high tide until the ground was hidden in a thick fog. The sounds of something emerging from the bog nearly drowned out the sounds of whispering in his ears.
“Puck,” Guts began, his gaze landing on the main entrance to the hamlet. “Go make sure those kids stay inside.” He ordered -- the very last thing he needed right now was a snot-nosed brat getting in his way, ming him hesitate when the time came to kill these things. He learned the hard way what those brief moments of hesitation could cost him back when he was fighting Rosine.
“R-right!” Puck said, darting over towards the house. The woman shouted at Puck while the kids awed over the elf, but Guts paid them no mind. He couldn’t afford to. Lurking in the heavy mist, something was moving around inside. He heard the sounds of mud squelching underneath someone’s weight -- the movement sounded erratic and sloppy. Then, he saw what it was.
A humanoid creature that was covered in dark blue scales, its eyes wide and murky as its mouth was filled with jagged teeth. A sea creature, of some sorts judging by its webbed claws and feet. A dozen of them surged from the mist, hissing and spitting at him as they charged blindly.
Guts responded instantly by slapping his repeating crossbow onto his prosthetic and starting to turn the crank. Short bolts erupted from his crossbow with shocking force. They punched right through the scales of the creatures, some of them knocked onto their backs as they cried out in pain. The few that didn’t, Guts met them halfway, gripping his sword with both hands as he grit his teeth and swung with all his might.
Dragonslayer cleaved through three of the monsters, cutting them in half. With the backswing, he killed another four. He was surrounded by severed limbs and corpses within a second, but there was more where that came from by the sound of the screeching that echoed through the forest. Between the houses from every direction, more monsters began to sprint towards him. More of the blue things, another dozen of some kind of corpselike creatures that rushed towards him on all fours.
Lagging behind them was a mutilated corpse stumbling through the fog, the pale and rotting flesh that held it together looked like it was harvested from a dozen other corpses and slapped together sloppily.
Guts simply turned his crossbow at the waves of monsters and started to pull the crank. Dozens of bolts leaped from his bow, slamming into the monsters hard enough to stop them dead in their tracks. He thinned out the herd, but it wasn’t enough to get all of them. Lowering his hand, he grabbed Dragonslayer and went to meet the monsters halfway, only for something to grab his legs before he could take a step.
Snarling, Guts slashed down at the apostle grabbing hard enough that his armor creaked under the pressure just as the first of the monsters jumped at him. He caught a corpse thing with his prosthetic, stopping it from taking a bite out of him with its broken and rotting teeth. The stench, now that they were directly in his face, was nearly indescribable. “Get off me,” Guts snapped, sending the creature flying into a blue monster, both of them collapsing to the ground.
The grip on his legs lessened, letting him take another step forward, only this time the muck gave out from underneath him like it was water. He sunk down to his knee, throwing him off balance even as he slashed at a blue thing, bisecting it. Something bit into the back of his knee, where his armor didn’t protect him.
“He is delicious, my sisters,” Red Mask whispered in his ear, her tongue licking the wound she inflicted. “We- AH!” She screamed when Guts plunges Dragonslayer down where she lurked beneath the surface, ignoring a blue thing as it started to tear at him, its claws ripping through his skin as a corpse thing jumped on his back. It bit down on his collar bone, his cloak offered up some protection, but not enough to save him from another wound.
Even still, Guts accepted the pain since Red Mask let go of him. The mud around his leg solidified, and it was only thanks to his incredible strength that he managed to pull his leg free. Reaching back, he grabbed the rotting monster off his back and slammed it into the blue thing that was trying to claw through his armor. Gripping his sword with two hands, Guts slashed through another five monsters that tried to swarm him.
“Kill him. We must kill him!” Basket hissed before Guts spotted her grotesque form in the mist. Guts pushed himself onto solid ground, the wound on his leg sending white-hot agony up his leg with every step, but he ignored the pain. He had to keep moving to stop himself from getting swarmed. He slashed through monsters, taking out at least three with every swing as he made his way towards Basket.
With her remaining arm, she slammed it into the ground. The only warning that Guts had that something was off was a slight rumble underfoot before a wall of flesh erupted from the ground. It slammed into, knocking the breath from his lungs before he felt the grotesque flesh start to wrap around him. His armor creaked under the pressure, making him hiss in pain as glared down at the apostle as she raised him into the air.
“Such a shame, handsome. You were so manly...I suppose I’ll have to settle with having fun with your corpse,” Basket spat at him as a crow flew down to claw out his eyes. Guts struggled to escape the grotesque flesh, and he was only released when it reared back a moment before it threw him.
Guts sailed through the air like a thrown stone, and it was only experience that braced him for his crash landing. His back slammed into the altar, breaking it and reducing it to rubble, his prosthetic protecting his head. Whatever breath was in his lungs left him in a ragged gasp, but his armor protected him from the worst of it.
Guts scrambled to get back on his feet, but Red Mask emerged from the fog like a ghost. Her twisted claws reached out for him, a low chuckle emitting from her throat as she neared. He was out of position to deal with her, but that had never stopped him before. He lashed out with his prosthetic-
A bright flash nearly blinded him for a moment made him pause as a streak of light rushed towards Red Mask. When the light faded, the girl that Basket was carrying stood there, a slender longsword in her hands that she drove into the heart of Red Mask. The apostle flinched at the feeling of cold steel piercing her. Unsure if that was enough, Guts swung his blade and cut the witch in half.
““NO!”” The two remaining apostles screamed, their combined voices nearly enough to drive Guts to a knee.
“Hello there,” the woman greeted him as she turned her attention to the flood of incoming monsters. The wall of flesh coming from Basket expanded, bubbling like a pot over a fire as it stretched towards them. Much like the veins that had grown on his sword, they snaked towards them to capture them both.
“Cover your ears,” Guts responded, taking aim with his prosthetic. His hand slid down, revealing a cannon loaded with black powder and a ball of iron. Grabbing a string, Guts fired his cannon arm, the ball of steel launching from it with a loud boom and a kickback that nearly dislocated his arm. The ball punched through the flesh as he expected, and slammed into Basket.
Half of her was blasted apart when the cannonball slammed into her upper chest. She spun around, gore flying everywhere before she collapsed to the ground. The wall of grotesque flesh began to fall apart, wilting like a flower in the middle of winter, while Crow unleashed a furious howl that spurned the monsters forward. That likely meant the apostle was dead, but Guts didn’t trust it.
He rushed towards the apostle’s fallen form, seeing that flesh bulged around the impact point. Guts didn’t know if she could survive to wound since not all apostles were created equal, so he stabbed Basket in the head with Dragonslayer to make sure.
“What was that?!” The woman yelled before she threw herself at the monsters -- undeterred by their appearance and existence. She spun, her sword flashing as it beheaded a blue monster before she disarmed another -- not only was she an experienced swordswoman, but she moved with a near unnatural grace. Her movements were a little too fast, a little too fluid.
It set him on edge, but if she was willing to keep the monsters off him while he finished off the last apostle, then he would let her. It was impossible to tell if she was another apostle because his brand was already throbbing with agony, but once he killed the third one, Guts would see if he had to kill a fourth this night.
Hot blood dripped into his eyes as he searched for the crows even as he cleaved through another five monsters with a single swing. There seemed to be no end of them-
“Rotfiend! Get back,” the woman yelled when he went to kill one of the shambling corpses. Guts obeyed the order, idly noting that it sounded like she had experience dealing with these things, which raised a great many questions. In his experience traveling Midland, there were very few that knew about the supernatural, and even fewer that believed what they saw was real.
As Guts retreated, he threw a few throwing knives into the shambling corpse before he saw why she told him to get away from it. The thing collapsed into a heap before it exploded into a bright red mist that blasted away the fog. A blue thing that was trying to rush past the Rotfiend was blasted apart.
“Stay away from that mist, it’s toxic,” the woman warned as she bisected a corpse creature, her sword flashing before it was thrust into the gaping maw of another that tried to jump on her from behind.
Guts just grunted in response as he searched for the remaining apostle. His brand still throbbed with agony, so she was still here. It was just a question of where. All the while more monsters swarmed towards them -- Guts ended up killing the bulk of them, his style far more suited to dealing with overwhelming amounts of enemies, a style that he honed after two years of fighting through the night, while the woman picked off the remainders.
“You killed my sisters,” Crow whispered hatefully into Guts’ ear. The woman fighting behind him went stiff, sweat dripping off her brow with every movement. “You will pay for this. Your suffering shall be eternal! I shall feast on your flesh and drink your blood! I will make you suffer!”
“If I had a sovereign for every time that I heard that,” the woman muttered to herself as the mist began to shift. It condensed where the altar used to be, swirling around it until there was a tornado of fog so thick that Guts couldn’t see through it. Even as the fog seemed to drift towards the tornado, the mist grew thicker all around them as well, lifting up from the ground until Guts could barely see the end of his sword.
“I will flay you to the bone! I shall rip your spirt from your body and torment it for all eternity,” Crow hissed in Guts’ ear. “What you suffered at the hands of the godhand will be a paradise compared to the things I shall inflict upon you!”
Memories of the Eclipse were all too quick to surface. To this day, he barely understood what that place was, who his enemies really were, or why it all happened. He simply knew that Griffith had betrayed them. He sacrificed the Band of the Hawk for power. He raped Casca. Black hate began to bubble in his chest, his face twisting into a ferocious snarl. Rage and hate consumed him, driving him forward, just as it like it drove him for the past two years.
Guts bisected another monster that jumped out of the heavy fog before he sprinted towards the tornado of mist. Something inside of him told him that’s exactly where he would find Crow so he could rip her apart for reminding him of that night. With each step, Guts felt the mist get thicker until it felt like he was moving through a strong wind. Then water. Then mud. Each step was harder to take than the last, something pushing him away, and that was exactly how he knew he was going the right way.
“You are nothing. A sacrificial lamb so another can rise to power,” Crow spat at him as Guts felt. “Your destiny is death, Struggler. Underneath your whore of a mother hanging from a tree, at the hands of the man that sold you, in battle, or at the hands of the profaned -- your fate is set!”
Guts pushed himself to take another step, hefting Dragonslayer onto his shoulder. He felt this force once before, and that time it was far stronger. His brand ached, his wounds burned with pain, but Guts took another step forward. Gritting his teeth, he lifted Dragonslayer, its incredible weight feeling like it had tripled before he swung it down. Its blunted and dulled edge tore through the mist, carving through it like a knife through butter, only to come to an abrupt stop.
Crow stood at the center of the tornado, her hands outstretched, catching Dragonslayer with an unseen wall. No, not unseen. Around his blade, the air seemed to shimmer, similar to water. A shield of magic. A savage smile appeared on Guts’ face when he saw her hideous face twist into an expression of absolute fear.
There were precious few moments that Guts could say he enjoyed himself the past two years, whenever an apostle wore that expression...when they realized that despite all their power, he was still going to kill them...that was a moment he learned to cherish.
“No!” Crow spat at him, trying to push him away, but Guts braced himself for it. With one hand, he grabbed Dragonslayer, the blade slick with the blood of his enemies, and started to push the sword down, forcing the barrier to bend around the blade. “I am not destined to die here!”
“I,” Guts began, Dragonslayer inching towards the twisted apostle. “Don’t,” he continued, gritting the word out as the barrier that separated them began to crack. An expression of terror flashed over Crow’s face before the barrier gave way entirely. Dragonslayer crashed into her collar bone, breaking it, flesh tearing as his sword made its way through her. The sour stench of her blood came from the wound as he cut her in half, Dragonslayer slamming into the ground, escaping at her hip.
“Care,” Guts finished, the apostle twitching, unable to believe what was happening right up until he stomped on her head. Instantly, the fog started to fall, the pressure vanished. However, Guts still heard the sounds of combat. Turning his blade to the side, Guts swung, forcing the mist back to reveal more monsters that still lurked within. It seemed that whatever these things were, simply killing their master wasn’t enough to stop them.
“Guts! Guts! Help!” Guts heard Puck cry out, making him turn his attention to the faint outline he could make out of the building with the kids in it. He couldn’t see the woman, but she would have to survive without him for a minute. Now that the apostles were dead, Guts noticed that his brand only throbbed with pain rather than the searing agony he felt before. It seems that woman wasn’t an apostle after all.
It only took a moment for Guts to see why Puck was screaming for his help. Without the apostle to guide them, the monsters became mindless beasts. Mindless, hungry beasts. They tore at the door, trying to force their way into the building through the windows -- Guts could hear the children’s muffled screaming coming indoors. That was good. Screaming meant that they were still alive.
Guts took aim with his crossbow, only to find that it had been damaged by the monsters tearing at it. With a snarl, Guts closed the distance between him and the monsters trying to get in, Dragonslayer raised high before slashed through a cluster of them trying to get in through a window. He cut through flesh, bone, and wood, sending limbs and splinters flying as he carved a line through the walls of the house. It rained down on those trying to get in through the door, bringing their attention to him.
Darting forward, Dragonslayer proved to be wide enough that he could cut a blue thing in half by stabbing it in the torso, its legs flopping over uselessly. All the while, Guts strode forward, punching another blue thing in the face with his prosthetic, caving the creatures face in. “Puck…”
“None managed to get inside!” Puck informed as he floated down from wherever he had been hiding. “But the kids are pretty scared,” Puck pointed out as Guts killed another monster that rushed towards him. Guts didn’t make a comment about that -- of course, they were scared. They nearly got eaten alive by monsters. It would be odd if they weren’t freaking out.
It seemed that the sounds of the kids screaming drew the attention of the woman. She emerged from the lessening fog, her face and it was only now that Guts took a moment to examine her. White hair, deep green eyes that stood out that much more because of black smudgings around her eyes. A long scar hugged her cheekbone before going down her cheek -- as far as scars went, it looked like hers had healed nicely.
She didn’t wear any armor -- a loose linen shirt that left her collarbones exposed, long leather gloves that nearly reached her elbows. At least around her torso and pants were pieces of leather armor that offered some protection. If she didn’t move so well in them, Guts would have thought she was an idiot. A woman playing at combat that didn’t know enough to even protect herself. Not like Casca.
“Are there children here?” She asked, giving him a look over as he did her. She settled in a position that protected the door, another blue creature rushing towards them. It lunged at her, the woman easily ducking beneath the wild swipe, as she slashed at its leg, cutting it off before she spun on her heel to behead the monster.
“Yeah! Micha, Merril, Garret, Morrigan, Lilly and Edward!” Puck answered as Guts punched a corpse monster, crushing its skull, as he slashed at another two that were rushing their position. Of all the tasks of war that he had hated over his considerable career of being a mercenary, protection jobs were the absolute worse. It was an odd thought, but one that nearly managed to make him smile as he recalled the banter shared between guards who were bored out of their mind.
What could have been a smile died a quick death when Guts recalled that they all died during the eclipse.
“What are you?” The woman questioned, staring at Puck and only managing to tear her gaze away when another two blue things rushed her. She dispatched them, her breathing deep but even. It was clear, whoever she was, that she had extensive experience in combat. Good. They would need it.
“I’m an elf!” Puck answered with confidence. Guts could practically see whatever stupid pose he was doing on top of his head.
“Unlike any elf, I’ve ever seen,” the woman commented as Guts killed four blue things with a single swing of his sword. The mud, already slick, became thick with blood as the corpses began to pile up. The woman killed another two, her slender blade coated in blood as drops of it landed on her shirt and skin.
“How many are there?” She asked herself more than Guts, making him frown as he killed another grouping of monsters. These creatures were unlike anything he had fought before, even the reanimated corpses took a different form. His brand still ached, telling him that these things, whatever they were, were attracted to him. The number of monsters didn’t matter because one simple truth remained. “When do you think it’ll end?”
“When the dawn comes.”
Comments
Kurogakuro
Its great to see a story with Guts in it. Witcher is oddly fitting for him as there are a lot of similarities between the two. Also looks like you have an early version of Guts. Memory isn't perfect so I would have to say right before he visited Godo for the last time. Judging by how there were hints that his sword is getting blunt and the fact that Godo is the one that resharpened it.
Eldar Zecore
I absolutely love the Witcher games and new Netflix show! At the same time, I barely know anything about Berserk besides the highlights. At what point in Berserk were Guts and Puck pulled from?
Ab9999
Awesome. Would like to see more, but I’m enjoying everything you’ve posted so far. So just keep writing whatever you want to write.
Mkaius
This was absolutely beautiful. Guts is a favorite of mine, I’d love to read more.
CB-Otaku
Oh man this looks great! I would love to see more of this. One thing that interests me is what kind of misunderstandings will pop up between Ciri and Guts. Like... if Guts described the Skull Knight, well wouldn't Ciri think of the Wild Hunt? Then you have the interesting question of, WTF did the Wild Hunt save this guy??! Flip that around, when Guts encounters the Wild Hunt, he's going to get all kinds of wrong ideas about the Skull Knight. I love it!
Ironforge
You know, another thing that might be rather interesting to see, is how people react to Guts cannon hand. As if memory serves there really isn't any gunpowder weapons in the setting besides bombs and well, after the first time Guts uses it to blast a hole through a monster or knight in front of a lot of people, I kind of wonder if they will just assume it is some kind of magic or something more mundane. Because if someone does figure out it is a gunpowder weapon and decides to try to copy it, that could have some rather huge impacts on the setting as a whole just by itself.
IdeasGuy
The outline I have planned out would be for Guts and Puck to accompany Ciri on her quests to break Ava-somethings curse that turns him into Uma, and fight against the Wild Hunt if only because Guts thinks she's his only way back to his world. However, Guts' presence will throw things off the rails pretty quick because...well, Guts is Guts.
IdeasGuy
Guts and Puck were dumped into the Witcher. The three apostles were the three crones that Ciri ends up killing towards the end of the Witcher 3.
MasterMarx
So this is interesting, but I have some questions. For one, were Guts and Puck dumped in Witcher, or did... that's Ciri right? Did Ciri come to Berserk?
Ironforge
Nice, though I do wonder where things will go from here if this is continued. Since Guts and Puck are a combo that can make witchers seem normal in combat. But at the same time are going to be so out of their depth in how to deal with magic and how common it will be here.
