Reviews:
exillion: Sorry that you didn't enjoy it.
Greyjedi449t: Thank you, here you are.
Greer123: I'm happy that you enjoyed it. There isn't any HP verse yet, but magic is coming fast.
Pyromania101: Thank you. I'm happy you thought so.
Albatross079: That he did.
Ftxfusion24: I'm happy that you're enjoying it. That could make a good spin-off.
Necrogod: No problem. As far as pairings go, I haven't written with any girl in mind for Harry, but that doesn't mean he won't have a relationship later on. I'll just have to see which one he plays best off of, or maybe put it to a poll.
Guest: Thank you.
Hybrid13: I know that we PMed, it isn't disrespectful to want to skip through a chapter due to the content, especially when dealing with sensitive topics. I hope you enjoy the rest of the story.
Disclaimer- Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling and Berserk is owned by Kentaro Miura. I own nothing.
The town's name was Koka. A once reputable town, Koka was not known for any grand history of Midland, nor was it a target during the Midland-Chuder War. To many, Koka was just an above average town with hardly any relevance. That was until one got a look at the town itself. Prison carriages full of women and children came and went on a set schedule like the herding of cattle.
Not only that, gangs of thugs seemed to have taken a residence in and around Koka, with the local guards doing nothing to stop the vagabonds and their deeds. Something odd was at play, that much was obvious to all who lived and feared for their lives inside of Koka, and to the Black Swordsman who came upon the town. He had heard rumors of a man who supposedly led these gangs of men, although no one seemed to know what he looked like. Those who did-they kept quiet.
If such a man did exist, nearly every resident of Koka was content to never see or hear from him in their lives. The Black Swordsman was different. He went to the nearest tavern, not for a drink, but to discern any information on this mysterious leader as he could.
The tavern was a lively enough place this time of the day, many patrons sat at tables along the side of the bar area, giving the group of three men a wide berth as they toyed with looked to be a small creature. It was bluish in color and had a set of bug-like wings on its back. A small rope had been tied around its neck to hold it confined as the three men threw daggers at it.
A closer look and it was clear that this was no bug they were tormenting; it was an elf. A pint-sized impish thing with human characteristics and a childish voice when he tried to sound intimidating to his tormentors.
"Quit yer squirming," one of the thugs said to the elf. "How am I suppose to hit you?" he asked in a slur.
"You're not supposed to!" the elf yelled in its high voice.
One bar patron near the door shook his head at the display. "Not even the mayor can stand against the men of Koka Castle."
The Black Swordsman went over to the bartender and fished out a gold coin, flicking it across the counter. "I'm just going to mess your place up a little." He didn't pay the concerned look any mind as he reached to one of the weapons strapped on his back. His fingers snapped the crossbow into place on his metal arm.
"Bring it on, fathead!" the elf yelled at his tormentor. "Why don't you untie me?! I'll show you I'm a master at Elf-Dimension Style!" a large knife was slammed down right in front of the elf, shutting him up.
"Get ready to eat those words of yours you-," a crossbow bolt flew across the bar, sinking into his temple and pinning his head against a wooden beam. He was dead, but for a second or two, his mouth opened and closed like a fish gasping for water.
"Bastard!" one of the men growled. "You have any idea who you're dealing with?" some men drew their swords, but they were met with more bolts, killing them just as quickly as the first. Now there was but one.
Guts towered over the thug, like a wolf staring down its prey. The man tried to make a quick run for it out the door to safety, but a precise bolt to the bridge of his nose stopped him in his tracks. The thug instantly fell, clutching at his face at the torment that he was experiencing. A strong hand grabbed the back of his neck and slammed him against the wooden beam where his comrade was pinned through the head.
"So, you're one of the men from Koka Castle." He didn't bother phrasing it as a question. When the thug didn't answer fast enough, Guts slammed the man's face on the nearest table, breaking the nose even worse and knocking out a few teeth as well. "Hurry up and answer." His eye conveyed all the emotion his voice held as well.
The thug finally nodded. "Yes…"
"Good." The remark shocked the on looking patrons more than they were already. "Then that means that you can deliver a message to your boss for me." One of the thugs who had been hit with his barrage of bolts stood, wounded, but alive and sword in hand. "Tell him the Black Swordsman has come." The wounded thug came up behind him. "That's it."
Before the thug could bring his sword down, Guts had already drawn his. The entire tavern seemed to hold a collective breath when he moved his sword in a wide arc, bypassing the sneak attack completely. The thug didn't even seem to release a cry until it was too late and he was in two halves, each in completely different sides of the bar. Some unlucky patrons even got splotches of blood spilled into their drinks.
Guts lifted the blade with ease and strapped it back onto his back. He cast one last threatening look at the last remaining thug, who, like the rest of the bar looked on in fright. "Don't forget to tell your boss." And with that, he departed into the streets of Koka.
After his brief scuffle in the bar, Guts continued his venture through the town. He had acquired enough gold to maybe rent a room at an inn for the night before the inevitable fight that was to come. He had made an enemy of the thug's boss, and no power-hungry leader would let a slight like that go unpunished. Yes, he suspected a visit from this boss figure soon enough.
A childish voice called at him from above. It was that elf from the tavern, flying down towards him. Guts ignored the creature and kept walking. "Hey, wait!" the elf called. It was floating right next to his ear now. "Listen, if you're going to save me, then you have to stick around to be properly thanked. You have to see it through to the end."
Guts continued to tune the small elf out. "That's quite the sword you're carrying around with you. Or, would you call it a slab of iron? I've never seen a sword like that before!"
Once again, silence on Guts' end. "Oh! I haven't introduced myself. The name's Puck! Nice to meet you, Mister Swordsman!"
He continued walking down the street, noticing the fearful looks he was getting from the women and men as he passed by them in the street and their homes. His single, bestial eye keeping a look out for any other thugs.
Puck didn't seem too put off by him yet. Perhaps he figured that since he saved him, then he was a nice guy or something. "You know, I used to be part of a traveling performing troupe, but one day we got attacked by bandits and I've been locked up in some birdcage ever since. It sure is wonderful that I'm still alive, I'll tell ya!" Puck was starting to look a little put out that he hadn't made to continue the conversation. "This town has been attacked a lot recently, too. The mayor seemed to have made a deal with the head thug. In exchange for a tribute, they leave the town alone. But after your little stunt, I guess they might start attacking again."
Once again, no response from Guts. "You sure are the silent type," Puck sighed. "But if I were you, I'd get out of town. If they catch you, then you'll be cut into ribbons." He went to sit on Guts' shoulder, and as soon as he did receive a grip from Guts' hand and was tossed into the mud.
"Hey, that hurt!" Puck yelled at him, flying forward to stare him in the face. "Why the heck did you do that?! I'm just trying to be friendly!"
Guts stopped to give him the only response so far. "Don't touch me. I might squish you." His voice was low enough to convey the feeling of dread. With that out of the way, he continued on like nothing had happened.
Puck shouted at him once again, sounding angrier this time. "What's your deal?! Somebody shows you a little appreciation and you act all angry and stuck-up?"
Guts stopped in his tracks, not so much because of Puck calling him out, but more the approaching mass of town guards. Each and every one had their weapons drawn and pointed straight at him.
He cursed to himself, "Damn it."
They took him to a dark and dank cellar, confiscated his gear, and chained him by his wrists to the ceiling. There wasn't much he could do, save for listening to the sound of his blood hitting the cold stone floor. Six to eight cuts marred his bare chest.
The torturer cleaned the blood from his whip. "My, you are a stubborn one. Aren't you going to make any noise?"
"Pttew," Guts spat at the torturer's feet.
The torturer raised his whip again. "Fucker!" Before he could crack the whip, the door to the cellar opened.
"Stay your hand," he was a small, old man with a bushy, white mustache. No doubt this was the Mayor of Koka. "Enough for now."
The torturer backed off and the mayor inspected the confiscated weapons. "All these belong to this one man?"
"Indeed," the torturer nodded. "He's trying to look like a one-man-army."
The mayor took in his appearance from the tall, muscular frame, the various battle scars, and metal arm. "You're a mercenary, correct?"
Guts didn't answer.
"You're a stranger to this town," the mayor continued. "Killing those men earlier…do you know what you've done?" he was beginning to tremble. "Because of you, this town might end up destroyed!"
This time, Guts actually remarked. "Are your guards incompetent?"
The mayor shook his head, looking more and more nervous. "You do not know how awful he truly is…the leader of those men. He…It…it's terrifying. No one can comprehend. No human can kill him."
"Ah, so that's why you made a deal with him." He smirked slightly at the mayor's bemused reaction. "I saw a cartful of prisoners when I came here. Those are for him."
"You wouldn't understand; some vagabond like you-,"
"I do understand." The mayor went silent. "I know that he's a monster that eats human flesh. I know all about that."
The mayor began to sweat. "It is my duty to protect this town!"
"The people of this town, or yourself?" he could tell that he had struck a nerve. He chuckled at the gobsmacked reaction.
Nervously backing away to the exit, the mayor addressed the torturer. "Continue. Torture him as much as you like, but don't kill him. We will hand him over to Koka Castle and to the baron, alive. I'd best go to the castle and beg the baron for forgiveness." He left.
The torturer grinned as he grabbed a red, hot poker and pressed it against Guts' abdomen. He was disappointed when the Black Swordsman never made a sound.
"He calls himself, the Black Swordsman?" the Baron of Koka Castle sat alone in his dining room feasting away at the meal the head chef and prepared for him. It looked like diced ham with a nice glass of wine, but everyone in the castle knew better. Ham was more pink, not the splotched red that he ate, and wine was supposed to smell sweet not like a faint trace of iron. For these reasons and another, he was also known as the Snake Baron.
"Yes, Lord Baron." The sole survivor from the tavern reported. "He wielded a sword that was taller than him, swung it like it was nothing. He wore all black, and he had a metal arm."
The baron tucked a lock of black hair behind his ear as he poked at his dinner and took a bite. His extraordinarily sharp teeth chewed at the meat. The Black Swordsman. Could it really be?
The door to his dining room was thrown open and an attendant came with the mayor in tow. "What is it?" the Baron asked, not happy that he was being deprived of properly enjoying his meal.
"I-it has been a while, my lord," the mayor pathetically stuttered before his presence. "I have personally come to offer my apologies for what transpired earlier today. It was the act of a wandering degenerate; he is not connected to our town in any way. To compensate for the loss, I will see that you receive double the amount of gold and prisoners. Please-,"
"So troubled."
"S-sorry?"
The baron took a sip of his drink, the metallic taste just the way he liked it. His yellow, slit-pupil eyes glowed in the darkness of the room. "Gold and prisoners, I don't care about them, I never have." He poked at his dish and plopped an eyeball into his mouth, eating it whole. "All I really wish to see is humanity in its rightful place, trapped in an apocalypse, never to escape. I want to hear the sounds of bones breaking under the hooves of horses." He stood up and crossed the room, leering down at the mayor. "I don't need an excuse to do what I do. I never have."
The mayor was seized by his arms by the attendant who had brought him in. "W-what is the meaning of this? Unhand me." The Snake Baron smiled unnervingly at him. "Lord Baron! Lord Baron, please!" His cries went unheard.
The terrain was as uneven as Harry's breathing in the chill of the morning air. Last night had brought about yet another wave of possessed spirits for him to deal with, and now he was feeling utterly exhausted. For the first couple of nights he had been able to cope with the overwhelming sensation, but night after night of the activity was starting to take its toll on him. He checked his reflection in the water of a clear stream and found his black hair to be messier than ever, and heavy bags under his eyes.
But he was close, or at least he thought that he was. All he had done was follow the signs along the main roads of Midland, leading him up north to where a mountain range and a prominent ravine were situated. Apart from the apostle, Wyald, Harry hadn't come across another of his kind, but that didn't mean the road was without danger.
Bandits and other vagabonds lurked to the side, ready to strike at unsuspecting travelers, and he had almost fell victim to one of their traps, had it not been from a tip from a resident of a town he passed by. The girl who had tipped him off was probably a bit younger than himself, maybe by a year or so, but she had a look in her eyes like she knew what would happen.
"You're going to Enoch, right." She hadn't said as a question. "Then you should take the side road through the woods, bandits stick close to the main road here."
"What makes you think that's where I'm going?" he had asked, she seemed innocent, and the brand on his neck wasn't hurting at all. For all he knew, she could be telling him that to lead him to where the bandits actually were.
"I don't know," she admitted as much. "You just have a look about you, I guess. I can just sort of tell. Like you're wondering if what I told you about the bandits is true." Her smile had been as innocent as she looked. "The only thing that would be stolen from you if you take the way I said would be an extra hour of your time walking. Can I see that stick of yours?"
He responded with an absolute, "No." However, she hadn't seemed that phased.
"Oh, well. Maybe I can see the new one when you get it."
"What new one?"
"No idea, you tell me. It's going to be yours after all."
She had seriously begun to weird him out, but she hadn't made any threatening moves or gestures. A woman's voice then called to the girl. "Sonia!"
She waved over to who Harry assumed to be her mother. "Well, that's my mama. I'll see you sometime. Maybe you can show me a trick or two, I'd love to see it."
He had no idea what to make of that girl except for that she was a bit loony. But, he didn't get the feeling that she had been lying to him either, and the path through the woods proved to be the safer one, but at the cost of time. If anything, he had the distinct impression she knew all about him from just one look.
After walking all the next day, his legs were just about ready to give out, when he found himself outside of a wheat field; a clear signal that a town or farm was close by. If luck was on his side, which he doubted it was, he might be able to get a few hours of sleep now before the sunset and the spirits emerged. A woman's cry sounded from somewhere within the field of crop. Luck must really hate him.
He took off into the field, using his sword and walking stick to push the stalks aside. The woman cried again. Picking up his pace, Harry rushed through the stalks like the wind, finally coming upon the sight. There was a young blonde woman and a brown-haired man who was-,
"Ted!" she yelled. "Stop tickling me! We're not kids anymore."
The young man, Ted, smiled teasingly. "Doesn't mean that we can't act like we are. Or, do you want to have the other kind of fun, Hannah?"
"We're not married yet you know. And if my brother catches us…"
"I thought your brother loved me," Ted defended. "Or are all those fond memories someone else's?"
"He does, but I think he loves his sister more," she lightly poked him in the chest.
"Besides, it's not as if he doesn't know what we do when we're alo-," Ted finally became aware that Harry was present, witnessing their conversation.
"Ted?" Hannah asked. "What's wrong-oh!"
Both quickly became flustered and embarrassed. Ted was the first to regain his ability to speak. "Howdy, stranger." He said, unsure. "What-uh, brings you out this way?"
Harry put his sword away; they looked startled enough as it was. "I was heading to Enoch Village, but I got a little sidetracked when I heard her scream. You wouldn't know the way would you?" they relaxed at his explanation, either they were trusting by nature or just naïve.
"It would be a bit embarrassing if we didn't," Ted said. "We do live there after all."
"Yeah, looks like you're in luck," Hannah added. Harry wouldn't exactly call it luck, but he wasn't going to correct her.
"I guess it is. Would it be too much to ask for a point in the fastest direction?"
Ted nodded. "If you cut through this field, there'll be a wooden bridge, cross that and you're practically there."
"Thank you," Harry said. "I've been meaning to come out here for a while, but never got around to it. I used to hear a lot of stories about the forest around your village." If one of them added anything, it would be a help.
"Do you mean like one of old-man Morgan's stories?" Hannah asked. "He used to tell the best stories from when he ventured out into the woods; remember, Ted?"
"Used to? He still does," Ted corrected. "It happened decades ago, and he still tells that story to anyone who'll listen."
So there was someone named Morgan he could seek out. Good to know. "Thank you, again," Harry waved. "I hope to see you in the village. I'll leave the two of you alone for now." He thought he distinctly heard Hannah say something along the lines of, "So embarrassing almost getting caught."
Accurate down to the description, once Harry crossed the bridge, he found himself standing just outside of the village. While it largely consisted of one long, cobblestone Main Street, several other smaller one's branched off of it running to a blacksmith shop, a watchtower, a graveyard, and a few barns. At the center of the village was a Holy See chapel, the bell on top chimed at the new hour. The graveyard looked to be quite big, and Harry made a mental note to take shelter away from the village when the sunset.
Overall, Enoch was spacious than most villages, but nowhere near as large as a town or city, as it settled for a more comfortable feel. If he could find this Morgan, then that would be a major help in narrowing down his search; assuming that there was anything magical about the forest around the village anyway.
He asked around some of the villagers who either ignored him thinking him some sort of wandering beggar or just didn't take him seriously when he asked for Morgan. Whoever he didn't seem to have too high a reputation. The only actual response was from an inebriated villager exiting the tavern.
"You want Morgan?" he pointed to the tavern he exited. "He's in there, being a freeloader." He sauntered off back to his home.
Inside, the tavern wasn't crowded, but the patrons who were there seemed to have taken it upon themselves to make additional noise. They slammed their mugs together, leaving a mess for the barmaid to clean, and talked so loudly and often at the same time that their words hardly sounded like any known language. Some of the patrons were young men around Guts' age, while others were more toward their middle ages, and the only "old man" was sitting at a table, alone, watching the patrons clustered at the bar with an amused smile on his scruffy face.
"Excuse me," Harry said, approaching the older man.
He smiled kindly at Harry. "Morning. Or, is it evening?"
"Afternoon," Harry informed a bit dryly. If he was drunk he wasn't going to be of much help.
"What can I do you for, youngster?"
"Well, I was looking for a man named Morgan. I'm traveling through the village and I heard he has stories about the forest around here."
"You thinking of going into those woods?" he asked.
"That's why I wanted to find him," Harry explained. "I don't want to go into anything dangerous." But unless it was an apostle or some more spirits, he doubted it was too dangerous aside from bears. "Do you know where I might find him?"
"Of course I know where you can find him-he's me."
"You're Morgan?" Harry asked. When he had heard Ted call him 'old-man' he thought he might be someone older than the man sitting across from him. Morgan was probably in his late fifties to early sixties, old, but his eyes still held a child-like sense of wonder despite his age. "I heard some stories about the forest, but I was wondering if you wouldn't mind telling some of your stories about it."
"Heh. You're about the first to actually ask me to talk about that. Everyone here thinks I'm loopy for still believing in that old legend." He took a drink from his mug. "Truth is, I've really only got one story worth telling, sorry to disappoint."
Harry waved the concern away. "That's alright, anything worth telling I want to hear."
Morgan took a sip from his drink and wiped the corners of his wrinkled mouth. "Well, what exactly do you know about our forest?"
"I know that it's the center for a lot of fairy tales," Harry admitted as much.
"Aye. Especially tales of witches." A child-like look flashed across Morgan's face. "I was a young boy when it all happened, younger than you even. My mother had fallen terribly ill and the village healers feared she wasn't long for this world. So, being the stupid child I was, decided to go out into the woods alone to search for this rumored witch and ask for her help. I lost track of how long I wandered around by myself, hours, days, time just seems to blur in those woods. I was about ready to give up when I saw her; an old woman coming out of a mansion built into a tree. She gave me some type of potion to bring back to my mother, who felt much better after having taken it." He smiled in nostalgia. "I went back almost every day to find and thank her, but I could never find that tree mansion again."
Morgan finished his tale and took another sip of his drink. "You thinking of going looking for witches, kid?"
"No," Harry tried his best poker face. "Like I said, I was just passing through this way and wanted to hear about the forest around here. I met with two people outside of the village who told me you have some good stories to tell."
"And you're traveling by yourself?" he sounded a bit skeptical.
"Not for long," assured Harry. "I'm meeting up with someone soon." And Morgan had helped him out immensely for it.
While the village might have been small and quaint, the forest was another story. It seemed to stretch on forever, unconfined by any means and seeking to envelop the entire world with its roots. After his chat with Morgan, Harry had set off on the forest path, following it as it snaked its way through the trees, which seemed to become more overgrown the deeper he traveled. It was like Morgan said, time seemed to become warped in this forest.
He had set out a little afternoon, but with how long he had been walking, it felt like it was going to be nightfall soon. Hopefully, he was far enough from the village that no spirits would possess the corpses in that graveyard of theirs. His brand wasn't acting up, so it was safe to assume that there was still some time left before the sun would set.
But, as usual, it was never safe to assume anything.
A large, muddy fist came crashing down in front of him. He stumbled back, nearly tripping over his own feet before regaining his balance. Standing before him was a six-foot-tall rock monster. That probably wasn't the correct name for it, but its body seemed to be made out of boulders, and its head looked to just be a rock with eye design carved into it. The stones on its hands spread apart and reached out toward him.
Quickly, he drew his sword and cut across the palm of the creature. It did not roar, or howl, or make any sort of indication that his attack hurt it. But it was moving slow, and Harry capitalized and thrust his blade through two boulders that made up its torso. The head looked down at where his sword penetrated, and the whole began to fill with mud.
It raised both of its fists above its head, ready to squish him. Before it could do that, Harry ducked between its legs, unsheathed his hidden blade and cut the creature behind both of its knees. The legs began to tremble, and it fell, unable to stand.
Acting fast before the wounds closed with mud, Harry stabbed his sword through where the neck would be, and the stone head went tumbling to the ground. And then much to his surprise, the arms moved to pick up the fallen head and put it back into place above its rocky shoulders. The head turned a full three-sixty to stare at him, and the wounds behind its knees healed as well.
Before its large fist could collide with his face, it managed to stop its attack. Rising to its full height it walked past him to stand behind a new figure; one incredibly short figure. They held a staff in their hand which ended in a full spiral at the top, and they wore dark purple robes with a matching hat that was pointed with a wide brim, hiding their face. And from under that hat, a small, pink bug-like creature emerged and flew right up to his face so he could get a good look at it.
While the wings were like that of a bug, the tiny body was humanoid. Harry pulled his head back so it wouldn't fly right into his face. The creature gave a gasp, sounding like a small child. "Scherike! I think he can see me!" he could tell that it was a girl-whatever it was.
"Of course he can, Ivalera. He wouldn't have been able to cross the border if he couldn't." the short figure sounded like a girl as well. Could she be the-,
"Excuse me; are you the…witch-?"
She lifted her head, and Harry was fully able to see her face. Her hair was an unusual shade of green, and her large eyes a shade of turquoise. And she was young; younger than even him. Morgan said that the witch he met had been an old woman, had she somehow been able to reverse her age with magic?
The little girl stared up at the rock monster without the slightest hint of fear. The creature pointed in a direction. "Yes, it's alright. I'll take him back to the mansion." She had to look up at Harry to meet his gaze. "Follow me please." She began walking back the way she had come. Harry watched as she walked off, she noticed he wasn't following. "Follow me, please." She sounded a bit annoyed this time. She began to walk again.
"Hey-wait!" Harry yelled as he made to catch up with the strange girl.
She led him, with the strange rock creature following not far behind. Harry had so many questions that he wanted answers to, but this girl seemed intent on tuning him out. "How did you know where I was? Did it have something to do with that rock person?"
"Golem," the girl, Scherike corrected. "The proper name is a golem."
"Right, that." She didn't seem amused. No matter which question he asked, she ignored, until they came upon it.
A large tree with a thick trunk' large enough to house the wooden mansion that seemed to grow into the tree itself, almost like the two were one in the same. "Come," Scherike led him to the tree-mansion. "My mistress awaits."
"Your mistress?"
"Yes." She opened the door for him. "The one who sent me to stop that golom from crushing you. This way."
The inside had a much more simple design that the outside would have the viewer believe. Each room looked like it could be found in any old home, so long as it was made of wood. It seemed designed to release an earthy vibe to it. One such room had a stained glass window like a chapel, and the old woman sitting at the spinning wheel helped to complete that feeling.
Harry felt Scherike poke at him with her staff. "Introduce yourself," she instructed, this time not bothering to hide her annoyance.
"Er-," Harry cleared his throat, and the old woman looked up. She surely fit the description Morgan had given him. But that had also been close to fifty years ago. "Hello. My name is-,"
Her bluish-gray eyes locked onto his, and a twinkle seemed to shine in the woman's gaze. "You are Harry Potter."
Did she just-read his mind? She even seemed to know he was thinking that. "It was trick taught to me long ago called legilimency. You might even be a bit familiar with who taught it to me." She smiled a kind, knowing smile. "His name was Merlin."
A/N: It might have been a long set up, but magic is finally being introduced. If anyone remembers, I made mention of Merlin's involvement in the story back in a few earlier chapters to foreshadow this meeting. And without giving any spoilers away, I can say that this won't be the last time Merlin is mentioned in the story.