Reviews:
Pyromania101: I'm glad that you're looking forward to more and I'm glad to have you back as well.
kaxipoptos: This chapter has a lot of fighting in it to be sure, and some answer with Casca will be revealed here as well.
Greyjedi449t: Thanks, I hope you enjoy this one.
PrinceZarok: Thank you, I hope that this chapter will entertain as well and live up to the others.
demonic hellfire: Thanks, hopefully, this one will be as good as the rest.
Celexs Draconia: I hope this chapter is a good is a good payoff for what I've been building. The armor really is a cool item.
Greer123: The wait is over, hope you enjoy.
ezok: Chapter 354 was a true delight. I'm very happy that we get another chapter this month. I'd love to see how she reacts to seeing Guts again.
EVA-Saiyajin: I went back to look at that passage again, and I agree. I changed some lines toward the end to hopefully keep it more in character and hopefully it reads better too.
Guest: Thank you. I hope you like this one too.
exillion: Harry does get a staff and learn more magic as the story goes on, the sword is a back-up that could never substitute real magic. Oh well, sorry you didn't enoy it.
monster646: There will be something for Harry as well.
Disclaimer- Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling and Berserk is owned by Kentro Miura. I own nothing.
Something was wrong. Something was very, very wrong; and the fact that they were in a troll-filled cave had nothing to do with it. While the threat of trolls was still an immediate factor, they came in small droves, but even then they were able to make short work of them.
Isidro, bringing up the rear, covered their escape by means of his pouch of explosives. The rusty-haired youth might have a long way to go in terms of his swordplay, but he had a deadeye with his aim. Every explosive that he threw managed to hit its mark, putting an end to the trolls pursuing them. All his spare time tossing rocks back in his village must have paid off.
But with how expansive the cave was, there should have been a lot more trolls chasing after them than the amount they had. So far they had encountered ten, maybe a dozen at best. No doubt that was largely owed to Guts, who was still slaughtering the bulk of their numbers where they had left him. Even as they began to near where the exit of the troll cave was located, they could faintly discern the cries and yelps of the trolls from deeper within. The wailing, desperate cries of pain were either coming to an abrupt end, or they were just much farther away. Harry strongly suspected that it was the former.
That was to be expected though. Guts was always taking on the most dangerous end of things, willing to place his life on his sword and come out on top in the end; that was just how he was, that was not what felt wrong.
Harry was also certain that it had nothing to do with the women and children they were escorting either. That wasn't to say what had happened to them wasn't terrible, just looking at their malnourished bodies and broken eyes was enough to tell the whole story; but that too was not the feeling.
This feeling was… it was different from just being in a den of trolls. It was different from encountering any ordinary apostle; this was something much darker than that. "How are you holding up back there?" Schierke asked. She too seemed to sense that something was off, but was no closer to an answer than Harry was.
"We're clear of trolls for now," Harry informed. Even so, he kept his staff and sword at the ready, just in case that suddenly changed. "How are the citizens holding up?"
"Most of them are holding steady – for now," Schierke added that last part. "They've been through a lot recently, but they should be able to make it back to the village. If worse comes to worse, we can summon a few golems to carry some of the weaker ones back."
The entire conversation was just a distraction. Harry could see exactly what physical state the citizens were in. it was just a way for him to ease into the main focus of what he wanted to ask. "Still, even with us getting them out of here, this place doesn't quite feel like it's done."
"What's with the cryptic wizard-talk?" Isidro asked, readying another explosive as he thought he saw movement behind them. "We got this covered, and Guts is giving those nasty trolls the beating of their lives."
Ivalera flew over to Isidro and Puck. "There's nothing cryptic about it. Even someone uneducated in magic like you should be able to tell that something isn't quite right here. Right, Schierke?"
"…" Schierke was silent for a bit as she led them further back the underground labyrinth. "You're right, Ivalera. This is the zone of darkness, it's natural for what we perceive to be normal to be out of focus, but even so… there's something-!" Her eyes widened, and a half-second later, Harry felt why.
Od. An overwhelming, overpowering, od. It made the life-force of the entire troll colony feel like an insect, just an ant in a colony of thousands, insignificant overall. And it was dark, beyond the darkness that comes with apostles, something more, something older and more sinister. This od was so strong that Harry could almost see its dark, midnight energy rush past them overhead as it clung to the ceiling of the cave as it traveled farther down. Down to where Guts was. It wasn't until after the od had passed that Harry realized that even with the rune drawn, his brand was bleeding. The blood ran down his neck, staining the neck of his clothing with a thin trail of his life juice.
Something that strong… Harry had felt something like that only twice before. Once during the Eclipse, and the other being more recently during the Neo-Griffith visiting Godo's place. Fuck.
Guts! Harry tried establishing thought transference with the Black Swordsman. He heard no reply from inside of his head. Guts!
Hitting another roadblock, Harry tried to see through Guts' point of view, to push farther into his mind to let him know of the impending danger that was coming his way. The connection was faint, and the images Harry saw were not pretty. Guts' vision seemed to have turned over red and white from his rage, and he was standing ankle deep in a pool of troll blood and innards. And from that same bloody pool, a feminine figure made entirely of troll intestines was emerging. Her usual pale skin was now pinkish-red and white, but the pair of bat-like wings that sprouted from her back seemed to have remained largely unchanged. Even that sly, seductive smile was the same as before.
"Slan…"
"Huh? What'd you say, Harry?" Isidro asked.
Guts still wasn't answering to any thought transference, chances were that the thought of killing just pushed everything else from his mind, he was becoming one with his sword in battle, letting nothing distract him, save for the recent appearance of the one Godhand member. With Slan's added presence, Guts would no doubt attack this new arrival. But would he win? Guts could best any swordsman, easy, but a Godhand was on a whole other plane of existence from the confines of a regular human. And what was Slan even doing here? It was unlikely Guts had somehow used the behelit he was carrying around; what would he even sacrifice? Harry's suspicion was only further confirmed as he could feel the intense anger coming from Guts as he turned his focus toward Slan. He was going to attack.
Was this going to be like another Eclipse? Guts would push himself to try and kill his enemy in a pool of blood. His effort would be brushed aside like leaves in the wind, and Harry…. he would be as useless as before, unable to stop what was about to happen. The staff in his hand seemed to weigh heavier, seemingly to alert him to its presence as if he had forgotten about it, which he didn't.
I didn't have this in the Eclipse, though. What would have been if he had? Maybe he Casca would still have her mind, maybe some of the others would be alive, and maybe he could have even stopped Griffith from using the behelit in the first place. Is that what I'm wondering now; about "what if's?" wondering and not doing.
"Come on, Harry," Schierke urged. "We have to get out of here."
"You two know the way to the village, right?"
"Huh? Of course, we do, what kind of lame question is that?" Isidro crossed his arms. "When you say that, it makes it sound like – hey! Where are you going?!"
He was starting off back down deeper to where Guts and the newly manifested Saln were. "Then get going, I'll meet up with you both, promise."
"He's mad!" Ivalera exclaimed.
"A hasty decision indeed," Puck nodded in agreement.
"You're not actually going back, are you?!" Schierke was looking at him like he had just grown two heads and one of those heads was breathing fire. "You felt that od, same as I, it's-,"
"-It's beyond anything else," Harry finished for her. "And I don't want to be stuck wondering 'what if?' by doing nothing." This time… it's going to be different, it has to be.
"It's suicide going back there!" Schierke sounded distraught. "You're not going to impress anyone trying to act the hero. You-,"
"-I promise." Harry held up his hand with her hairs tied around. "When I get back, you're free to grill me about it all you like, but don't try to stop me now."
Her eyes were wide, and her hands shaking. Isidro was just looking at him like he was crazy. "Harry, man, even I wouldn't go back there, and you're way more mature than me!"
"Thanks for the compliment. You can tell me all about it during our next spar." He left them standing there; Isidro with his mouth open, and Schierke watching him run back.
He could hear Ivalera shouting at him as he continued on his way. "You're in for it if you come back! If you thought Schierke's staff to the face hurt before, just you wait, mister!"
Well, at least he had that to look forward to. That is if I can feel it afterward. He knew everything they said had been right, he was probably running to his death right now. One wizard and a swordsman against a member of the Godhand, it sounded suicidal, but it had nothing to do with playing hero, Guts was more suited for battle than any of them. But he had to know, had to know what his magic would be like against a being like Slan. When the time came to move against Neo-Griffith, he was going to be prepared, he was done sitting and letting the story play out before him. No more "what ifs?"
Through all of his anger, all his rage, Guts was struck with a mind-numbing sensation upon seeing the arrival of the female Godhand member. Slan flexed her fingers, getting a feel for each of them before running her hands down her intestine body to seductively trace the curves of her chest and hips. Her bat-like wings folded in toward her body but leaving the top portion of her bare chest exposed. Slan's now pinkish-red eyes traveled over to Guts. Her lips arched upward and her "tongue" licked at the two small mounds of troll intestines. Even in a form as disgusting as troll innards, Slan was still trying to establish her sexual allure.
The way she was looking at him now, like some toy or a piece of raw meat, it was pissing him off! "My," Slan craned her neck, "it has been some time since I've assumed a form on this plain. Troll intestines are a bit lacking for a host, but they shall suffice."
That smile… newfound rage began to take hold of Guts. It's just like his… Trolls be damned, this took precedence. Slan was here now, one of the Godhand; maybe not in person, but close enough. One of the five beings who had made his, and Casca's and Harry's lives a living hell, he would be able to repay her in kind.
"Rraaagghhhh!" a primal, bestial yell escaped him as he charged the Godhand. Slan just waited there for him, her smile growing wider as he neared. Dragonslayer was raised high above his head, ready to cleave Slan's newfound form in half from shoulder to hip. He was only faintly aware of the intestines rising up from the bloody pool beneath him until it was too late.
Before Dragonslayer could come crashing down in unbridled prejudice, Slan's body moved back, the intestines that had been snaking up Guts' legs wrapped around him from below, knocking him off course. Slan stood there, giving a girlish chuckle at his failed effort. She seemed to find Guts barring his teeth, and flaring his nostrils cute in some way that complemented the bloodlust radiating off of him.
"Yes," Slan smiled deliciously. "You have grown even more hateful since I first saw you in the Eclipse. I liked you back then. I liked seeing your anguish, your hate, your love, your desire; it was truly like watching a tragic play."
Guts could feel a vein begin to throb in his head. "You're a fucking bitch." His words were like the growl of an agitated beast.
"Come now," Slan spoke like an old lover. "I've wanted to meet with you for some time. Even though I was not there physically, I felt you at St. Albion. All your rage and determination, it could be no one else. You've certainly earned my favor and attention."
Guts spat in the pool of blood. "Keep your damn favorites! Like you wouldn't just betray whoever you feel like so long as you get amusement from it!" he raised Dragonslayer once more. "Leave me the hell alone, you crazy wretch!"
Slan's body slithered away once again, this time, her wing struck out. Dragonslayer pierced the membrane of the appendage instead, but Slan hardly seemed worried or concerned about any damage done to her makeshift body. In fact, she actually seemed to honestly enjoy it if the playful smile spreading across her face was anything to go by.
"Quit smiling like this is some dance!" Guts yelled at her, getting ready to take another swing.
Before he could, Slan's other wing blindsided him. The claw at the crook of the wing curled around his breastplate and pulled him down. Guts landed face-first in the pool of troll blood and red overtook his vision. The thick, red liquid was weighing down his hair and flooding his nose and mouth, suffocating him. Guts gasped for air and he got a taste of the horrid liquid he was submerged in. it was like a very rustic wine that only served to make the drinker want to vomit afterward. Through that haze of red bubbling fluid, Guts saw bits and pieces of the trolls he had killed previous floating around. An estranged eyeball floated past him, nearly going in his mouth.
He could feel his mind start to go numb, his thoughts growing dimmer the longer he was held under, his vision began to dull and he mustered enough strength to move his legs. He pushed. Guts kicked off from the ground beneath him, fighting against Slan's impressive hold on him to break the surface of the blood. How he was still holding onto Dragonslayer was a true feat in of itself as he managed to breach the surface of the foul liquid, gasping for air like a fish would for water.
The intestines that composed Slan's body were wrapping around his arms, suspending his body before the manifestation of the Godhand member. "Ufufufu!" Slan chuckled like a ditsy love-struck bar-maid. "Yes! That's it! You show me that defiant streak of yours once again. Oh, how I love it. Show me more me. Defy the odds against you; run me through with that large sword of yours!" Slan's wing-claw cut away the upper portion of Guts' armor, leaving his bare chest exposed. Her claw touched his pectoral. "Mark me like so…"
Slan's claw raked horizontally across Guts' chest, ensuring a large scar would form later on, but not before his blood fell down into the pool below. While the cut would leave a scar, Guts knew it wasn't that deep, but it felt like it was. His single eye was bugging as he experienced a new pain, this one felt more than just a physical cut.
Cupping his face, Slan pulled Guts forward, licking the blood that coated his face, smiling at him and looking at him with half-lidded eyes. She might have said something to him, but she pulled back as a slab of rock jutted between them. Slan still kept him suspended but tilted him so he could see this new arrival.
What the fuck is he doing here? He was supposed to be with the two others.
"That was rather rude of you." Slan didn't sound too upset though. "I was wondering if perhaps I would be seeing you as well. I got a feel for your presence as I rushed down here to see your companion. I must say, you've grown from a terrified-looking boy swinging a sword around, into a mature looking young wizard. Would you like to join us?"
Harry muttered some words in a magical tongue, and a portion of the ceiling came tumbling down – straight down to where Slan was.
Her eyes traveled upward, sensing the impending attack, she raised her wings above her body, shielding her from the attack. Her facial expression was changing once again, looking more eager and curious than before.
Chanting up another series of spells, the blood began to swirl like a whirlpool, but then pulled back, and swept forth, a tidal wave of blood. Slan willed the intestines holding Guts to rise, keeping him out of the wave before covering her front with her wings to make a triangular shape. Like the mast of a ship, the blood parted in two directions when in contact with Slan's wings.
With her attention focused on Harry, for the time being, Guts worked his way to the string on his prosthetic arm. With the angle it was at, he could get a clean shot at Slan from above.
The blood settled back once again after the failed wave maneuver, and Slan seemed pleased at this recent development. "My, my, much like this one, you show no hesitation. Do you truly wish to harm me that badly? It wasn't I who branded you and sacrificed your friends. I suppose I'm guilty by association, like a hive of bees, if one stings, all are blamed for it."
Harry made ready to fire off another spell, but Slan was faster this time, not allowing him the chance. Her intestinal form collapsed to the ground, but still suspending Guts, and reformed in front of Harry. His staff was forced upward, whatever spell he had prepared shot up instead of straight. More tendrils were wrapping around Harry's arms and legs, bringing him closer to the awaiting Slan.
"Hm. You have brilliant green eyes." Slan paid complement. "I was just telling your companion how he managed to earn my favor, and you have earned that rank as well. You're both handsome boys, and to have two of you as my favored in this world would be a true blessing."
Much like with what she had done to Guts, Slan's claw curled around the front of Harry's shirt, and cut down, to expose his chest. This time, she cut down from the collarbone to navel. Guts knew the pain Harry must be feeling, the wizard was holding back a scream, but writhing in the grasp that Slan had on him.
"Now the two of you match. Almost, at least."
"Is this it…?" Guts' breathing was ragged but his words were laced with venom. "Did you come here to claim us as prizes?"
Slan feigned mock ignorance, putting a hand to her breast in an accused manner. "I feel insulted. The two of you are my absolute favorite humans! When confronted with overwhelming odds or the prospect of a greater power, other humans would just lie over and accept their defeat. The two of you struggle through; a true display of bravery and defiance." Her smile morphed into something more reminiscent. "If only the two of you were alive during my time as a human. I would have gladly taken either of you as a husband. Even among my brethren, things are dull. Ubik and Conrad tinker and plot, Void is always so serious, and Femto is now in your world. So will you heed my request? Will you both show me that defiant spirit I know you to have?"
Harry went to utter an enchantment, but Slan's hand grasped it as well. A cracking sound could be heard, and Guts noticed Harry's hand was bleeding from multiple splinters. His staff was starting to crack. White smoke hissed out from where the split was spreading along the length. The more pressure Slan applied, the greater it became.
Slan eyed Guts next, seeing Harry was in no position to attack now. "You have a way. It's in your bag; the behelit. Use it. Make a sacrifice and become an apostle."
Guts was at last in a position where he could use his mouth to reach the string to fire his cannon, but a blade flying through the air cut through the tendrils that suspended the both of them.
Slan eyed the new arrival with a hint of contempt laced in with her teasing tone. "Well, what an unexpected visit, Your Majesty."
The Skull Knight sat tall atop his steed, glaring at Slan with those glowing sockets of his. "Whore Princess of the Uterine Sea," Skull Knight addressed her. "Tell me, did he send you?"
"Sent? I came of my own choosing. My business here is my own. I wanted to see these boys, and I have. The worlds are already starting to overlap, while premature, it is a woman's job to tease in a world populated by boors. But if you are instant on interrupting, bear witness to the fruit of darkness' labor!"
From all the tunnels leading to the pit of blood, multiple new trolls and ogres emerged, all of which were converging in on the Skull Knight. Drawing his blade, the knight prepared for the coming fight – or rather, the slaughter.
His steed seemed to defy gravity, rushing up along a wall to get Skull Knight close enough to slice the head of an ogre clean in half. He rode around the perimeter before charging forward, his sword nearly impossible to keep up with to the naked eye. He was a knight on a horse; he was a whirlwind of death in a tempest of despair. All who rose to strike him were turned into mincemeat. Limbs, heads, whole halves of bodies were added to the string of corpses that now cluttered the blood-soaked cavern floor.
He was beyond fast, he was a blur. The unnatural speed and strength that he displayed were unparalleled, mindless creatures such as the trolls and ogres weren't even a challenge to him, barely even a nuisance. The more that appeared, the more he cut down. Guts knew that the Skull Knight was no push-over, but even now, Guts knew that this was the most gifted swordsman to have ever lived. The way in which he moved the sword, it was more like watching an artist paint than it was watching the slaughter of potentially hundreds of beasts.
Skull Knight briefly paused in his battle to address Slan. "You continue to summon more? I assure you, they will meet the same end."
"They are fodder. Their existence is to serve. It is nothing compared to the lives of humans."
What Skull Knight spoke next confused Slan. "Your moment is now."
Confused, she looked to Guts and Harry. Even with his staff nearly split in two and hissing out some sort of smoke, Harry was able to get off a low-level frost charm, and it had been spreading along the bottom of Slan's intestine body up to her midsection. Guts was aiming his prosthetic right at where Slan's womb would be. With a pull of a string, the cannon fired.
BABOOM!
A portion of Slan's frost covered midsection was completely shattered, blown away by the force of the cannon. Due to the frost, she was unable to regenerate the lost portion. She began to laugh. "Hehehfufuf! Yes! It's so cold, yet so hot! More! I want more!"
"Your sword, Struggler," Skull Knight insisted. "With it, it is possible."
Taking Skull Knight's words at face value, Guts thrust Dragonslayer through Slan, straight through her womb. "Thanks for your company," Guts growled out at her, spitting at her feet.
Slan smiled in orgasmic pleasure as she let herself slide down the length of Dragonslayer to rub at Guts and Harry's head. "Once the worlds are merged, it will be a beautiful place. Trust me on that."
Her characteristics began to dissipate, falling back into regular troll intestines and sliding off of Dragonslayer. Slan was not the only one to vanish; all of the trolls and ogres that she had summoned to her aid were vanishing as well. For now, the fight was over.
'Guts! Harry!' the voice of Schierke sounded from within Guts' head.
'We're here,' Harry answered back. 'How are things going on your end?'
'We made it out safely. Isidro is taking the citizens back to the village, but I need to seal off the cave. If I don't, more creatures of darkness will pour out over time. How close are you to getting out?'
'A decent amount.' With the damage they had both sustained from Slan, they were in for a long walk back.
"This place's time comes to an end." Skull Knight's helm jaw opened as he began to swallow his own sword up to the hilt.
"What is this?" Guts asked of him. "Some kind of magic trick?" When the Skull Knight pulled the blade out, it was glowing and was covered with various facial features. Just like behelits. Harry eyed the sword as well, seemingly recognizing it. "Those… they're…"
"Behelits taken from slain apostles. I have devoured them to forge this sword inside of my body." Skull Knight cut with the sword toward the ground. From that cut, the ground began to split, revealing a deep spinning torrent beneath it, that began to devour and consume the surrounding area, pulling the bodies of the slain creatures into some sort of wretched abyss.
Once more, Skull Knight cut with his sword and the setting around the three of them changed. They were no longer in the troll cave, they were outside, back in the forest which seemed to be growing less dark and reverting back to its original state once again.
"What… how did we just…?" Guts looked to the Skull Knight for answers. The damn bonehead owned it to them anyway.
"That is the power of this sword. The power to move between layers. I meant for it to be a catalyst against the Godhand, to keep them contained."
"I really don't care about that right now," Guts told him. "Why the hell were you down there anyway?"
From somewhere close by, the heard the crunching of trees, the troll cave was being sealed shut by whatever spirit Schierke had managed to summon. "The young witch has sealed the entrance." Skull Knight made ready to ride off. "Go to her." Skull Knight began to ride further into the trees, disappearing from sight.
"Guts! Harry!" Schierke came rushing up to them, Ivalera not far behind. "I sensed that you had made it out, but how?"
Guts cast a wary look to where Skull Knight had vanished. "We owe him again."
The journey back to Enoch Village was one wrought with concern from the young witch at the sight of the two of them. Both of them had received a lasting wound from Slan, and Schierke put the two elves to work right away.
"Stupid…" Schierke could have been referring to either him or Harry, probably the latter. "Completely, totally stupid."
Guts couldn't argue the girl's assessment of the situation. It had been stupid for him to stay behind; it was stupid for Harry to come back. While the mission had been a success and the troll cave and the zone of darkness had been sealed off, the whole ordeal had been a mess. His companion had acted on impulse and desire, something that Guts was accustomed to. He couldn't fault Harry fully because if he had been in Harry's role, he would have gone to confront Slan as well. And besides, both of them would be carrying the scar from their encounter for the rest of their lives it seemed.
"Guts," Puck spoke to him. "Your wound… it isn't healing."
"You must be running out of dust," Ivalera harassed the other elf as she tended to Harry. "Watch how I'm doing it. See how Harry's wound is – hey! It's not healing!"
Some scar tissue was taking hold, but compared to the elves' usual speed of healing energy, it wasn't even close to looking faded. The bleeding had stopped, but both still looked raw. Schierke took to examining their wounds as well, looking flushed and concerned.
"Whatever did this to you, its power was far greater than that of this world."
"Yeah," Harry winced as she applied some slave on his most recent scar. "You can almost say godly."
"I tried to get in contact with the both of you, but I wasn't getting a response. The most I did get was a feel of your emotions through our connection. I felt your anger, the pain of being cut. Which one of them was it?"
What was the title Skull Knight had used? "The whore princess," Guts bundled up the one thing that he had left of his old armor, his black cloak.
"… If a being like that…" Schierke began to ponder. "A being like that… with that power in the physical world…" her green eyes widened. "Those cuts, she didn't just cut your physical bodies, she cut your luminous bodies as well. Those scars extend to your souls."
Soul scars? Guts bemused. Was something like that even possible? Harry seemed to know what she was talking about, however.
"Wait! You mean like," he pointed to his forehead where that lightning-bolt shaped scar rested, "this?"
"You haven't been feeling any malicious activity from your scar, have you?"
"No. whatever was going on with my scar seemed to go away after the Misty Valley thing when Farnese took me, prisoner. You think the ones we got now are like that?"
"I doubt it, but I can't say for certain," she looked like that wasn't a good enough answer for her to give, she wanted to do more. "They are most likely just that, scars on your souls; well beyond any dust that elves can produce." She cast her gaze downwards. "I'm sorry."
"For what?" Guts asked. "Scars are just that, scars. This is just another one." Without his armor, she could see just how many scars decorated his body from over the years, ever since he had picked up the sword as a young boy. "I would have thought that'd you'd be used to see scars be made, you were inside of his head watching."
Schierke avoided his gaze. "When I watched before, it was never like being there in person. Seeing the state the both of you are in now, you can barely stand."
"Well, it's a good thing that my staff can still hold my weight then," Harry leaned against the cracked wood for support. He might have given a wry smile, but his eyes looked on sadly at the object he had hand-crafted himself. Would he have to start all over again, or was there a way to fix it?
"I wouldn't sound so happy if I were you," Ivalera cautioned Harry. "Once you're healed as best you can, she's going to let you have it."
"So I have another staff to the face to look forward to?"
"I might transfigure you this time. Isidro could use a monkey companion."
Speaking of Isidro, they spotted the aspiring swordsman waiting on the stone bridge crossing the river to Enoch Village as they made their way out of the forest on weary legs. Isidro wasn't alone, however; Farnese and a recently mended Serpico were waiting as well.
"Holy shit!" Isidro exclaimed as they neared. "You guys are back!"
"I apologize for my absence," Serpico rubbed where his shoulder had been dislocated. "Did everything go well? Have the trolls been properly dealt with?"
"The entrance to their cave has been sealed," Schierke told him. "I had to call upon a spirit of the forest to assist in its closure; the Spirit of Rot and decay."
"I was telling them all about how we handed it to those trolls. You and Harry were working your magic, Guts was going nuts on them, and I was blowing them away with the explosives!" to further his point, he seemed keen to try and reenact a play-by-play of how he perceived things to have gone.
Farnese didn't look entirely convinced as she looked at the flat looks coming from the three other members of the troll slaying team. "Well… it certainly sounded energetic."
"What about the civilians?" Schierke asked. "They all got here safely, right?"
"Of course," Isidro brushed her concern away. "They had me leading them after all."
"I don't think that reassures her," Harry told him.
"Hey! What are you talking about, man?! You owe me a spar, remember? Good for whenever I want it!"
The four others exchanged more tales and banter, usually at the behest of Isidro, and Guts watched it all unfold. The way they acted, it stirred something inside of him. As he looked at his most recent of companions, he could almost see another group of people standing behind them, staring back at him. The scow form Corkus, the strong face of Pippin, the smiling face of Judeau, and the image of how Casca once was.
This feeling… it's like back then.
They found themselves back in the forest, walking back to the spirit-tree, the forest already seemed healthier now that the overlapping layer of Quiphoth had been sealed off. Flora would be pleased when they told her the news. Harry wondered if she was successful in healing Casca, or at the very least, made some sort of substantial progress. However, he doubted that with the success of their mission that she would be pleased to see the state his staff was in.
His craft was still intact – mostly. Slan's power had been greater than his own, and that hadn't even been her true body. Harry doubted he would be performing any great feats of magic soon judging by the large split that was running down the length. No more mist was hissing out, perhaps the core power was all but gone.
Maybe it can be fixed, Harry wanted to hope it could. He still had his sword that Godo had forged so long ago, but it wouldn't be the same without his staff. It had become more than just a milestone for his magical prowess; it had almost felt like an extension of his own self. If his staff really was beyond repair, maybe he would have to make another one.
Farnese walked next to him. "That wound looks to be scarring over." It sure didn't feel like it. In reality, it felt like tiny needles were continuously poking at the inside of his flesh.
"I suppose so, yeah," Harry agreed. "But even elf dust didn't work like it should have. Maybe Flora has some salve back at the tree."
"She seems like a truly kind woman," Farnese confessed. "And if she is healing Casca, what will be next after that?"
"Are you thinking of leaving?" Harry asked.
"Well, no," Farnese answered, but not right away. "The reason why I joined this quest was to hopefully find a new reality in place of the Holy See. So far…" she trailed off. "I wanted to ask you and Miss. Schierke about magic."
"'Miss.' Schierke?" Harry almost laughed considering Farnese was older than the witch.
"Yes?" Schierke joined them, hearing her name being spoken. "What is it, Farnese?"
"Oh, I was just curious about your magic, that's all."
"What about it?" Schierke was eager to answer the other girl's questions.
"At what age did you start learning it?"
"Well, I was brought up by Mistress Flora since I was a child. She taught me all about the art from as soon as I could speak."
"So, you were not born with it?" She looked contemplative.
"Magic does not belong to anyone being. If you want, I could persuade Mistress Flora into-!"
It happened like a jolt of lightning rushing down hers and Harry's spines. An immediate sense of od that put them both on edge. It was one of danger.
Serpico sniffed the air. "Is that… smoke?"
"…The tree…" realization washed over Schierke. "Quickly! We must hurry!"
They ran the rest of the way back to the spirit-tree, the smell of smoke and the feeling of intense heat grew with each step. "How could this happen?" Harry asked. "Flora had enchantments up to keep out intruders!" the only other explanation was that she had set fire to her own tree, but why do that?
"She does!" Schierke kept one hand on her hat to make sure it didn't fly off. "But if the invaders are in great enough numbers to somehow overcome the magic, then they could only be…"
She was cut short when they finally came upon the spirit-tree; it was up in flames. The mansion seemed untouched for now, but the tree was ablaze in a lively inferno. The flicker of flames cast their shadows along the clearing surrounding it making it seem that spirits were dancing to the burning wood.
Other figures were emerging from the tree line as well, dressed in armor and wearing helms designed to look like various animals. They were slowly, closing in on the tree, but the fire seemed to lash out at them, keeping them at bay for the time being.
Harry felt a prickle on his neck from his brand. Apostles. All of them here were apostles.
"Mistress…" Schierke trembled from the fear and uncertainty of what was unfolding before her.
Guts brushed past them, already gripping Dragonslayer. "Go. Get to the tree. I'll deal with these goons."
"H-hey!" Isidro joined in. "You against that many?!"
"He's right!" Puck agreed. "You're still healing, no use getting yourself killed now. What about Casca? Don't you want to see her?"
He was already walking away. "If she's healed, it would have been worth it."
Harry watched as Guts rushed the nearest invader, Dragonslayer sunk through his shoulder, staining the green grass with the first of the bloodshed. He had them momentarily caught off guard and was working away on carving his way around the perimeter.
Not wanting Guts to be outnumbered, Harry tossed a few golem talisman, instructing them to assist where they could. With Guts continuing to fight outside, the five of them made for the tree. Unlike with the invaders, the flames parted for them, allowing them to safely pass through.
They found the door to the mansion blocked; burning branches had fallen to seal the entrance. "Allow me," Serpico made a few cuts and branches were split into neat pieces of firewood.
"I sense someone's od on the other side," Schierke said hurriedly.
"Well, what are we waiting for?!" Isidro threw open the doors to reveal a dazed-looking Casca who was wobbling on her feet.
"Casca!" Harry exclaimed, rushing to the young woman. "Casca, are you…?"
She hardly seemed to acknowledge him, her eyes were glazed over, and drool was hanging from the side of her mouth like she had just woken up. She was awake, but still asleep.
"Is she…?" Farnese was hesitant to ask. "Did the treatment not work?"
"It must have got cut short," Schierke said, sadly. "With the invaders and this fire, Mistress must have cut the treatment short to deal with the situation."
"You serious?!" Isidro asked. "Let's go in there and drag the witch lady out. Have her heal her some other time." Before Isidro could take one step inside, a portion of the roof caved in, either from the flames, or Flora's magic. "Shit!"
Farnese took hold of Casca's hand. "Miss. Schierke, where do we go now?"
Schierke remained focused on the sight of the burning tree, unable to believe her eyes. "Mistress…" Harry heard her thoughts. 'Do you… want this? What of our lessons? What of our time spent together? Making potions, drinking tea, reading stories, is it all coming to an end?'
"Schierke!" Harry shook her out of her trance. "We need somewhere to go. What about the storage area, the flames haven't reached there yet."
"I…" she looked at him and then back at the tree where Flora remained somewhere inside. "…Yes, this way." Her voice lacked any sort of hope.
Guts' breathing was ragged. He had slain fewer apostles than he should have, and any of them had yet to transform into their monstrous other selves. They were more focused on getting to that tree, but the flames were keeping them at bay. It was like they came prepared for a fight given their numbers, but they hadn't expected anyone else to be here. The attack here was planned out, deliberate, and he had a good idea who the mastermind behind it was.
"Raaaghh!" Guts swung Dragonslayer down, sinking it into the shoulder of an apostle, but his swing had much less force than it should have. This apostle still had his arm, and merely grunted and hissed in frustration.
"Damn you! That hurt!" the apostle yanked himself free from Dragonslayer, getting ready for a fight of his own. "You – hey! I recognize you! You were the one branded from our Master's birth. You escaped the Eclipse!"
Master? So, it really is him then. Is he here now? Guts knew that Griffith wasn't. His brand was hurting, but nowhere near how it had been when he encountered Slan.
A new voice spoke up, towering above the rest of the apostles, one Guts recognized all too well. "Put your steel away, soldier. He is beyond your skill."
"Captain Zodd!" the apostles bowed their heads as the mercenary stalked forward. "We can take him! With all of us War Demons, he doesn't stand a chance! His movements are slowing! He barely has any force."
"I said," Zodd's voice silenced them all, "he is beyond your skill. We have a mission to carry out."
"Are you refusing a challenge, Immortal One?"
"Hm?" all eyes turned to look at the Skull Knight who had appeared among their ranks. His sword was drawn and stained with blood.
"How did he get here?" the War Demons asked. Past the Skull Knight lay a string of corpses, all were cut to ribbons, finer than any butcher could cut an animal. "He slew an entire division!"
"Bonehead?" You're just all over the place today, aren't you? "The hell are you doing here?"
"I have close ties with the witch who resides in this tree. I shall fight on her behalf."
Zodd's lips turned up at the corners to form a sickly smile. "So, does that mean our match will occur here and now? I've waited long since the last Eclipse. That scuffle could barely be considered a fight, you were only determined on getting past me."
"A fight is inevitable. Your wish may be granted."
Heavy footsteps echoed throughout the woods. A new figure was approaching, one that towered above everyone, including Zodd! He wore heavy silver-plated armor, a crimson red cloak, a heavy shield with what looked to have a built-in cannon, and a large war hammer that was almost as tall as he was. On top of his head, a helm in the style of a dragon.
A giant! Guts stared up at the massive frame of the largest man alive.
"Zodd," the man's voice held power and authority, something befitting of a giant like him. His red eyes were staring straight down at Guts. "This man, he is the Black Swordsman, is he not?"
"That is what he is known as," Zodd was unfazed by the appearance of this man.
"Zodd, with your permission, I would like to fight this man."
Zodd considered the request. "Very well." His eyes were locked on Skull Knight. "I have my own opponent."
"Very well. I, Sir Grunbeld of the Band of the Hawk call upon the Black Swordsman in single combat."
Wait! Did he say Band of the Hawk? The intimidation that Grunbeld had was once again being replaced by anger. Guts could feel it like a wolf ready to pounce, an urge inside of him to defy this giant. How dare he use that name!
Grunbeld raised his war hammer. "En garde."
Dragonslayer met Grunbeld's first strike and it was like the sound of thunder, an intense bout of sound that spurred the War Demons on. They all began transforming into their true apostle forms, leaving Grunbeld to deal with Guts as they advanced on the burning tree.
Zodd had transformed as well, blocking Skull Knight from rushing back. "This time let it be a fight for the ages!" he raked his claws against Skull Knight's shield and sparks flew as Skull Knight deflected his first attack.
Grunbeld raised his war hammer once again, Guts could feel the impact of each time Dragonslayer met his blows. They were sending shockwaves all along his arms, he was sure that his bones would break if he kept matching the blows each time. The pain from his most recent encounter with Slan was resurfacing with this strenuous activity as well. It came to the point where Guts just raised Dragonslayer as a shield to cover the blows from Grunbeld.
"What is this?" Grunbeld stared him down, kicking one of his massive tree trunk thick legs out, and knocking Guts down. "Where is the tenacity? Where is the fury of the Black Swordsman who slaughtered so many of us apostles?" Grunbeld raised his hammer, bringing it down.
Guts reacted just in time to bring Dragonslayer up to his chest to absorb the impact of the blow. "Hnn!" the flat of the blade pressed down on his chest, across the wound Slan had given him.
"Pathetic!" Grunbeld said with contempt. His eyes traveled over to where Zodd fought with Skull Knight. Skull Knight was fast on his horse, but Zodd knew what moves he was going for, always bringing up his defense before striking out, and nearly hitting Skull Knight. "Zodd is lucky to have found such a strong and worthy adversary." Grunbeld scowled down at Guts. "You are unfit to die the death of a warrior by my hammer." He raised one of his massive feet. "Die, crushed beneath the weight of your reputation!"
Grunbeld's foot crashed down on Dragonslayer, pushing the flat of it further down on Guts. He could feel the taste of blood flood his mouth, and he was sure that some of his ribs were now broken.
My injuries… I feel them, weighing me down.
'You are weak,' a voice inside of him seemed to say. 'But not for long.'
Seeing Grunbeld raise his foot once again, Guts rolled out of the way before it could come crashing down on him. Forcing himself to stand, Guts pulled all the strength he had left and cut Dragonslayer across Grunbeld's leg.
"Aaggh!" the blade barely had enough force behind it to cut through the thick plated armor.
"You would prefer to die on your feet?" Grunbeld asked, raising his shield to point directly at Guts. "Very well. I will oblige your request."
The barrel of a cannon protruded from Grunbeld's shield. He used his hammer to press down on a button a plume of smoke and a resonating, KABOOM! sounded off.
Guts fully expected to have a giant hole in the middle of his torso but was surprised to see that one of those golems had gotten in the way of the blast. The magical servant was already starting to regenerate what it could from its missing torso, but two others waddled up to their brethren, merging with it, to make a giant golem guard.
Grunbeld scowled. "Shameful interference!" two long blades popped out from the end of his shield as he proceeded to cut the golem in half.
'Guts!' the voice of Schierke sounded in his head.
Schierke? Where are you? Instead of a response, Guts received a vision in his mind's eye. There was the tree, and tucked away near one of the roots was a hidden door.
More golems were slowly, but surely advancing on Grunbeld. He took this opportunity and made a break for where the others were tucked away at. Serpico opened the door for him on the other side as he slid into the hidden trove of the tree. His chest rose and fell heavily, and his eye sought out Casca, who was awake but chewing on her hair. Was it all for nothing?
Casca looked at him, pointed and moved her mouth, "Swor mn. Swoood am."
Is she… trying to speak?
"Thank goodness you made it!" Schierke knelt by his side. "We haven't much time! They'll find this place and-!"
"-Casca. Is she…?"
"She's trying to form sentences," Harry answered. "Flora made some progress at least. Whatever she did, part of her mind is healed."
"But it won't amount to much if we stay here any longer," Serpico voiced. "It is as you said, those monsters will find this place soon enough."
Isidro was pacing around. "Well, there has to be something! We're in a cellar filled with all sorts of magical items, why not use 'em?!"
Schierke wasn't answering. "Mistress?" she clutched her head.
"Schierke?" Harry asked. "What is it?"
"I don't understand, Mistress. That armor is…" the wooden door began to splinter as the claws of an apostle sunk in.
"Aw crap! They're here!" Isidro exclaimed. He pulled out an explosive. "This is my last one, too! Any ideas and I'd love to hear 'em!"
"There is one option," Schierke muttered. "But I don't understand why Mistress would have him use it. She knows how dangerous it is."
"Wait, you meant the armor?" Harry asked, eyeing the door as more was chipped away.
"Yes! But if he puts it on, then-!"
Guts placed a hand on top of her hands. He didn't say a thing, but, he smiled. A bitter-sweet smile that conveyed more than he could put in his own words.
The armor in its sleek but heavy plated ebony glory was part by part, put on Guts' body. Serpico and Isidro helped to fit it as fast as they could as the face of the apostle became visible from the other side. Not wanting to risk his staff, Harry stabbed the apostle through the eye. The last piece to go on was helm, the emptied socket, skull-shaped helm.
"That hurt!" the apostle growled at Harry, barring its curved fangs.
"Oh shit!" Isidro got ready to light the explosive, but Guts was on his feet, brushing past them engage the apostle.
The jaws opened wide to swallow Guts whole, but what followed surprised all of them. He plunged Dragonslayer through the gaping jaw of the apostle, twisted the blade, pulled it out, and then cut in all four directions. The apostle's head fell apart like a split melon, Guts' armored boots trampling over the mutilated corpse and back outside to where the battle continued.
"Black Swordsman, cease these shameful tactics at once!" Grunbeld demanded as he tossed aside two halve of another golem. He got his wish.
Standing before him in that strong but sleek ebony colored armor and wielding Dragonslayer in one hand was Guts.
One apostle ran up from behind Guts, clamping its jaws on his torso. Its teeth didn't even make a dent in the armor, but Dragonslayer had a much better luck on the apostle. The massive blade craved its way through the skull, following up with a series of slashes that left it raining blood down on the dark armor.
Grunbeld was taken aback. "This is the Black Swordsman? He wasn't moving this way before."
Even Zodd had paused in his fight with Skull Knight to watch this newest development. "Is that…?" his eyes settled on Skull Knight who glared back at the mighty apostle. "So, you would have him walk that same cursed path?"
Isidro was watching, wide-eyed at the armor-clad Guts. "A-awesome! If you had something like that this whole time, why didn't you hand it over for the troll slaying?! We would have been done in no time!"
Schierke did not share in his sentiment. "As powerful as that armor is, it comes with a heavy toll. It was crafted by dwarves to be near unstoppable, but even then the previous user bled out while wearing it. Whoever dons that armor will feel no pain; they will continue to fight until their enemy has been rendered dead. Any injury sustained, the armor will only fix up to the extent where the user can continue to fight, and with no sense of pain, that would be until death. It's the armor of the Berserker."
What is this feeling? Guts wondered as his sense of self-diminished. The pain from my wounds… they're gone. No; I just don't feel it.
'Yield to me.' That same ominous voice spoke from within his mind.
This sensation… it's burning inside of me.
'Yield to me.'
I… see it now.
Within the shadow of his mind's eye, that dark shape had taken form. A pitch black hound with razor sharp teeth and blazing red eyes. A Beast of Darkness.
'Yield to me… everything!'
Eyes were all drawn as the shape of the armor's helm began to change. The metal plates were shifting and stretching out to make it appear entirely different. Guts' face was totally obscured, hidden away behind red zigzagging sockets and a gaping maw reminiscent of a wolf, complete with fangs.
Guts charged Grunbeld, moving nothing like he had been before – no. he was moving far beyond what he normally moved. His speed was astonishing, the armor enhancing every physical aspect of his body. Grunbeld barely had time to bring his mighty shield up in front of his frame to block not just Dragonslayer, but Guts; body as well. Guts had jumped, planted himself on Grunbeld's shield before kicking off, and making the giant of a man stumble.
"Face the full might of my cannon!" Grunbeld took aim with his shield, tracking Guts' movements.
Before he could fire, Guts did something unexpected; he rushed straight toward the barrel of Grunbeld's cannon, planted his artificial hand directly in front of it, and fired his own cannon blast.
Boooooom!
Grunbeld stumbled back, his shield and cannon falling to pieces. Guts faced the impact as well but drove Dragonslayer into the ground to slow his momentum.
"Perhaps I misjudged you, Black Swordsman." Grunbeld drew his mighty war hammer. "Perhaps you are befitting death by my hammer." The apostle took the offense this time, advancing on Guts.
This time, Guts did more than merely block the attack, he surpassed it. His sword against Grunbeld's hammer, Dragonslayer was coming out on top. He knocked the first strike aside, forcing the length of the hammer close to the ground, where he jumped upon it with Dragonslayer, striking it repeatedly, denting the heavy metal of Grunbeld's weapon.
"H-he's lost himself in battle," Farnese concluded, watching the scene unfold.
Casca tried to articulate a sentence again. "Swo-mn…"
From behind them, the fire worked on consuming the tree, slowly burning its way to where the trove rested, spared of any fire but not for long. Serpico took charge. "Quickly, we must move." He took Farnese's hand, who took Casca.
"So awesome!" Isidro continued to gush over Guts' armor as he too was dragged away from the creeping fire.
Harry was ready to follow after but felt the top of Schierke's staff rest against his shoulder. "What? We have to leave too."
"I know," she didn't sound eager, and for good reason. The woman who took her in and taught her magic was still inside the burning tree. "But… there is one thing to take before we leave. Much like with Guts, I believe Mistress Flora intends you to have it." The heat of the approaching fire was growing as she led him back into the trove. "Before we gave the armor to Guts, I heard the voice of Mistress Flora. She has told me only so much about it, but it may be possible for you to use."
The heat was growing stronger. "Well let's grab it and get out then!"
"There." Leaning against the wall of the trove was a staff. Larger than the one he currently had and looked far older at that. The top of the staff looked to designed like a tree with branches growing upward to the sky, and a crystal was lodged in the heart of the "roots."
"A staff?" Harry observed. "Isn't every mage supposed to craft their own?"
"Traditionally, yes. But, from what Mistress told me, this has been passed down from mage to mage. The last wielder was Merlin who won it from a sorceress named Morgana. It chooses its allegiance, deeming if the candidate is worthy. He left it here to keep out of dangerous hands and with the hope that someone might be able to use it again one day."
Flora thought that that was him? She believed that he could handle this? He was good at magic, sure; but he was nowhere near the same level as the most famous wizard ever was. What would happen if he took it and he wasn't a worthy choice? Would he shrivel and die in agony? Each staff was supposed to be unique to each mage, he had been told so when first learning about magic.
Then there was the other part of him, the part that was tempted to take it anyway. Guts was out there fighting, as usual, Serpico and the others were escorting Casca away from the chaos, and he was here doubting himself. Doubting if he could do it or not, hesitating in a time of need, that sounded so much like how he had been when he was younger; a confused little boy swept up in the current of the world around him.
He took it.
Grunbeld tossed aside the remnants of his bruised and dented war hammer, his red eyes narrowed in anger at the armor-clad Guts. "You fight like an inhuman, Black Swordsman." His eyes danced with the fire that had nothing to do with the burning tree. "Allow me to even the odds!"
Grunbeld's plated armor became engulfed in flame, encasing his entire body, only his glowing eyes were visible. Then, through the fire, a foot emerged; then another, and two more after that. A large tail crashed into the ground, and the snarling face of a monstrous dragon-like creature appeared. His apostle form was enormous; he had the body of a dragon sans the wing and was covered in pulsating red-orange crystals. Plumes of fire shot from his maw, hotter than the fire of the burning tree.
"A fuckin' dragon!" Isidro exclaimed.
"You have pushed me beyond my human limits, Black Swordsman. Now face the true might of the Fire Dragon of the Band of the Hawk!"
Grunbeld breathed a bout of fire towards Guts, who charged the dragon apostle, Dragonslayer held in front of him as he parted through the flames, only singeing the black cloak that billowed behind him. Before Guts could land an attack, Grunbeld spun around, using his tail to slap Guts across his midsection, sending him flying back.
In a few seconds, Guts was back on his feet. Or rather, his foot – one of his legs was nearly twisted around completely, as well as his one arm; the bones clearly dislocated and broken from the force of Grunbeld's strike.
That normally would have been an end to the fight, but with a metallic creaking, Guts' armor covered limbs began to twist and turn back to their normal position as blood leaked out from the joints of the armor. The Berserker Armor had merely set his bones back so that he could continue to fight; and he did just that.
Blood sprayed from near his ankles as he ran full sprint toward Grunbeld. He jumped, spinning in the air as he still held Dragonslayer, becoming a wheel of destruction as his sword slammed into one of Grunbeld's crystals.
"Your efforts are futile! My body is covered in crystal stronger than steel!" Grunbeld boasted. He spun around, ready to use his tail to knock Guts to the side again, Buts Guts was much faster.
He used Dragonslayer as a shield, not only blocking Grunbeld's tail, but joshing back against it. "Did you see that?!" Isidro pointed out as they continued to make a break for a safe location. "He blocked that attack!"
For once, Puck was not sharing in his enthusiasm. "Guts… you're losing yourself, aren't you?"
"Guts is kicking that Dragon's – oh shit!"
An apostle was bearing down on them. Its boar-like tusks ready to skewer them through. Serpico acted fast, using his wind blade to cut at the apostles' legs to slow its momentum. His cloak billowed as he leapt into the air, getting an angle to cut at the back of its neck. The wind attack met its mark and dark blood dribbled down from the apostle as it coughed up a bout of blood.
Seeing an opportunity, Isidro tossed his explosive straight into the gaping maw of the apostle bearing down on them. Once it went off, it took the jaw of the apostle with it.
"Head back over to the tree line!" Ivalera instructed.
Farnese nodded. "Come on, Casca."
Her attention was drawn to the left. "Tw woo."
"What's she saying?" Isidro asked, looking to where Casca's attention was drawn. To their left, two more apostles were making an advance on them. "You kidding me?!"
"Isidro, you escort the girls to safety," Serpico took his stance. "I will do what I can against these goons."
Fire crackled from the burning spirit-tree, shooting embers into the hot air. Where the hell were Harry and Schierke? Going out on a limb, he tried that mental link or whatever she had called it. Hey! Where are you guys?! We can kind of use some magic right about now!
He heard back. 'We're here!' Schierke was rushing up to them, Harry as well, but he had something different.
"Hey, where'd you get that?"
"Ask your questions later," Ivalera told him. "Right now, get the girls out of here!"
Serpico slashed with the wind, wounding one of the advancing apostles. He went to jump behind it like he had the first, but this one seemed to have watched him perform that trick before. The apostle swatted where he would have been if Serpico had not changed his direction at the last minute. Dodging another strike, he began to rethink his strategy.
Harry had felt it. Not at first, but once he had a moment to settle, he could feel heat in his hands, and it had nothing to do with the now blazing inferno around them. It was like a heartbeat; his heartbeat and one from magic. It traveled up his hands, through his torso and all throughout his body. It was as if a popping sensation was occurring behind his eyes as he experienced a swell of sensory overload. But it had become bearable, something that he could control. He could feel everything that was going on with his body, with his magic. Holding this staff, it was unlike the one he had made. The magic that went into this, it was ancient, it transcended decades, maybe even close to a millennia.
He stood next to Serpico, facing down an apostle himself, a feeling, a premonition speaking to him like a second voice in his head, telling him exactly what spell to perform. He knew it, he knew the spell, this voice, that he heard whispering to him knew that he knew it, it worked with him. 'Infarne Sempra.'
"Infarne Sempra!" Harry repeated. Instantly, flames that had been consuming the tree lurched down toward the two apostles like fiery lashes. The fire lashes moved, following the movement of his arm and staff. He was like the maestro for an orchestra, willing the flames to snap and lash at the apostles. Like an extension of my arm.
Seeing this new development, Serpico took the opportunity to fan the flames with his wind strikes, making them grow in size and intensity. Harry wrapped the flames around the apostles, trapping them, burning them to a crisp. This magic, it was like Merlin was there with him, watching him perform.
Grunbeld staggered as Guts climbed the back of his mighty apostle form. The stronger than steel crystals that coated his body were beginning to crumble from the continuous pounding from Dragonslayer and Guts' unrelenting blows. The red eyes of the Berserker Armor shown against the flames that began to coat Grunbeld's body.
Guts' continuous barrage exposed a loose scale on Grunbeld's back and he drove Dragonslayer through it.
"AAGGHH!" Grunbeld howled like he had never sustained this much damage in a fight before. He was used to relaying in his size and strength to believe that a human could be this much trouble. The great flame dragon fell to one knee as Guts yanked his sword free, jumped off, and made ready to attack again.
Before he could, a wall of flame shot out from the spirit-tree, and extended upward as high as the tree itself. The apostles were trapped on one side with Guts and the rest on the other.
"Miss. Schierke, what is this?" Farnese asked, standing in front of Casca.
Harry experienced a major head rush the second he dropped the staff once the fight neared its end. He felt tired, extremely so, and above all else, thirsty. He hadn't used the staff for long, but he could not deny the swell of power that he had experienced. Maybe, once he was healed fully…
"Mistress…" Schierke looked at the great flame wall that had been erected, signaling an end to the fighting. From within those dancing flames was the ethereal body of Flora, the younger version of her that smiled over her shoulder at Schierke.
"The danger is not over yet, my pupil. This one requires your aid to revert back."
The helm of the Berserker Guts turned to look at them, the red eye glowed maliciously.
Everywhere. Guts' mind was clouded by his drive, his urge to kill. Was it his own, or perhaps the desire of that Beast of Darkness, the one the armor now resembled. Enemies everywhere. Why? How long is this fight?
How long will I be stuck here; trapped in this place? If I look up, I'll just see an eye, the eye… is it mine, or… where is here.
'…ts!'
What? Is someone here?
'..uts!'
Yes. That voice… I know it.
'Guts!'
Is that the voice of Schierke? 'You have to come back, Guts! You're not yourself right now!'
Myself? I'm right here.
'You're trapped inside the armor! You have to fight against it!'
'There is no fighting me. The girl is a fool to say so.'
'Guts, don't listen to it! You're Guts, the Black Swordsman! The enemy of apostles! Casca's protector!'
That name… "Casca."
Harry watched as the wolf-like helm of the Berserker Armor began to pull back, retreating to the main torso of the armor like a turtle into its shell. Guts' face and brow was covered in sweat and blood. Above his right eye, a single tuff of white hair stood out amongst the black.
A/N: The Berserker Armor has finally come into play. I promise that the staff used by Merlin will get more of a description and history next, but the armor was the big thing in this chapter. Thank you for reading.