Reviews:
FuryJoe: Thank you! So glad to see you like it!
Pyromania101: Yeah, three characters have met their ends. Happy to see you enjoyed the chapter.
Quatermass: I meant the end of the chapter to feel like a crossroads for the characters involved with Harry's being needed elsewhere, Zodd's dissatisfaction with Falconia and his and Voldemort's disagreements. Once the final chapter is out, I'll have an A/N at the end going into full detail about why I wrote something the way I did. How are you liking the omnibus?
Celexs Draconia: Thanks so much! Zodd is my favorite apostle in the series and I love writing for him so I'm glad that you like how he's written. I hope you enjoy this chapter as well.
Exiled Soul Nomad: Yeah, the end is in sight at last. Causality still grips the strings for both sides for now, but Harry showed that its grip can be escaped.
Hairul The Nightrage Beast: Since I incorporated the Wyald fight in a different way earlier, I wanted to include a bit of an homage to the manga style here. There are parallels between Voldemort and Dio for sure and it would have been a great JoJo reference. Glad to see the chapter was worth the long wait.
Guest: Certainly not good for Voldemort, but Harry proved himself in battle and earned respect.
OBSERVER01: This chapter will be a battle alright. Yeah, Zodd can be pretty cool when the need calls for it, essentially Guts if he were to become an apostle.
Tero7323: Yup, Voldemort met his demise as a result of the fight. Zodd certainly respected Harry more and could relate to his reasoning more and made his choice based on that. I hope this chapter manages to entertain as well.
HavokRules: Sorry to hear that it didn't hold your interest. I can assure you that it isn't just a rehash and that all changes made do play a larger part sometime or another in the future and it is a criticism I am very much aware of and even one that Harry realizes as well once the story evolves into its own, somethings just needed to happen the way they did to play out.
Disclaimer- Harry Potter is owned by J.K. Rowling and Berserk is owned by Kentaro Miura. I own nothing.
The sun was getting low, ending its reign across the sky with a bloody orange color before the cool violet-blue would come to take its starry throne in the sky. The warm color blended well with the tan high grass of the field. Crickets could already be heard as they took to chirping, ending only when one of the children leaped into a tall patch of grass, sending the chirping inhabitants flying from their perch in search of a new one, careful to avoid the clapping hands from the persons who must have been giants to them.
"Forward!" one of them yelled, adjusting his furs so they wouldn't fall from his shoulders. The other boys and girls cheered alongside him, far too noisily. They wouldn't catch any with how loud they were being.
They ran in their leader's direction, flocking where he pointed with all the command a mere boy could do. It was a humorously petty thing to behold. Such a stupid game, a waste of time. But what could he expect from a bunch who had less potential than a flock of birds?
"Don't let any getaway!" the leader called to those following him. "Take them as prisoners! Your king demands it!"
If that boy was a king, then he was a god.
The real king was off in a castle to the east or something; at least, the king of this land. There were so many tribes and clans, nomadic and stationary that it was hard to know all of them. Many tribes had actually banded together to set up their own kingdoms and states, or so he heard. It just meant more fighting, more moving for them as the men in their stone houses tried to a sense of what they called "order."
All of this was lost to the children as they gave a unified cry of, "Yes, King Gaiseric!" To that, he barely managed to suppress a snort of laughter from escaping.
King Gaiseric. That boy was no King Gaiseric. He had heard the same stories about the legendary king of old and from what he gathered, that boy was anything but one who was above all others.
"What's so funny?" the sudden question caught him off guard. He pivoted his body on the rock he was sitting on to see the girl standing off to the side. Her furs were light, the encroaching night chill seemingly lost to her, the cloth atop her dark hair barely rustled with the wind.
He gave a half-menacing look to her. "What are you doing here?"
"Watching, same as you, I suppose," she answered. Tilting her head to look past him and out at the herd of kids running about. "Are they playing at being king again?"
He fixed her with a low, flat gaze. "You're the soothsayer's daughter, aren't you?" he received an affirmative nod with a crisp close-lipped smile. "Then shouldn't you already know that? There's no real point in asking me what you can see with your own eyes."
Her smile didn't even falter. "And now I know why you're not down there with them." She sat down, uninvited.
Rolling his eyes, he brought his left leg to his chest and rest his hands on his knee before resting his chin on top of them both. "And you're wrong. If you want to follow your mother's path, you're doing a piss-poor job at it."
She brought a finger to her chin in thought. "I suppose so." Her eyes gleamed in mirthful mischief. "Or maybe they just didn't want to play with a bastard boy."
He didn't even react to the name. It didn't bother him, he could scarcely remember a time when it had. There were plenty of bastard children in the tribe, some of which were even down there chasing bugs right now. So long as men's blood ran hot or women felt the heat in their loins, a bastard would be born. It wasn't always an insult, bastards could just as easily be products of passion as they were by force. If a bastard had no place, it was up to them to carve one themselves. And because of it, he grew faster than the other kids, learned the reality of the world faster than other kids. He was already the tallest of those his age and twice as good with his fists as he was with a sword.
"It'd hardly be a fair challenge if I joined a bunch of whelps. How would they grow if they don't learn for themselves?"
"So why are you out here then? Looking to defend us from any enemy raids?" It wouldn't be the first time. He had been only eight when he had taken his first life. He hadn't been the biggest or strongest in that fight, he just had what he knew from stories, the ones like those brats were playing at now.
He returned his gaze out at the distance beyond where the soft, golden light still shone. "I was looking for a beast."
"What kind?" she asked as if she didn't already know.
"The kind that would eat those kids out there and disappear just as fast. Tch! Let him pretend to be a king all he wants, the real Gaiseric would be the only one who could take it down."
She laughed. "I knew it. I knew you liked all those old stories that the elder tells."
"And how would you know that? Did your divine spirit tell you?" it wasn't really a secret, not that he had ever outright told anyone either, so he was a bit curious as to how she knew and why she would bring it up when their conversation had been elsewhere.
"I could see it." She watched him watch her. "Divine presence had nothing to do with it. Even I could see how your dark eyes lit up bright at the heroism of the Skull King. You paid attention to everything the old man said, wanting to learn more about him, wanting to fight as he did in legend. Then, when the one hunter's son beat you in brawl match, you didn't curse or cry, you just watched and learned. When you fought him again, he left with only two teeth in his whole mouth." He hadn't been punished for that fight. The rule that they all adhered to was that strength showed where it showed. "But is that all you gathered from those stories, how he used to fight? He did more than that." And there was more to it than that. He enjoyed the mystery surrounding the Skull King; who he was before coming to power, he was likely just a youth carving out his own place in the world like every person dreamed.
"The fighting is why he's remembered. Do you have a point to what you're trying to tell me?" he asked, only half as irate as he would have been with any of the others their age. "Why bring up those stories? The true King Gaiseric died long ago, his remaining blood sits on a throne somewhere, not counting any bastards that might have popped up from a former king. Fact is, I'll never get the chance to talk with him and see how I compare."
Her finger scratched at her chin. "Yeah, you're right. You will never be Gaiseric without knowing. But, you could be the chief one day."
To that, he openly laughed. It was quick and loud and contained only a tinge of ice, the rest being disbelief. "If I wasn't sure you were mad before, I am now!" he jutted his thumb over to where the one whelp continued to play like a king. "That's the chief's son down there, already acting as if he was born just for that."
"You're right again," she agreed. "But he is weak, as you said. He's smaller than all the other boys, even some of the girls. Since when did being born to anyone promise anything? The chief we have now is not the son of the chief before him. No one will fight with a chief who can't fight for himself."
"If you're trying to manipulate me for your own status, you can save your honeyed words for the bees. If you're after a strong mate too, go and spread your legs for one of the stallions, or a dog could prove more loyal so long as you feed it."
She hardly seemed offended. Something in her calm demeanor and cryptic way of speaking always felt off. "I just speak what is true, the same as you. In fact, let me show you something." She took the string from around her neck and pulled it from behind her furs to present him with the trinket.
He observed it. "I'm no chicken. I've no use for eggs."
"It's an egg is shape only, it means something far more." She handed it to him. "My mother was the one to find this, she said it was a symbol of strength and leadership from the gods, a symbol of power."
"And if I take it, that means one day I'll be chief?" it wasn't hard to see the obvious flaw in what she was trying to sell him on."Well if I had it on me until that day came, of course, that's what it would represent. By doing that, it means my choice means nothing if it's all bound to happen one way or another." His calloused fingers lightly swatted her trinket away. "If your goal was to sell me on your fortunes, know that those born lowly figure things out faster than most." He waved a hand dismissively, eager to go back to his watch. "Leave me be already."
She didn't leave. "You're right to believe so. You know and understand what you see before you, but know this..." her voice lowered, "even my mother says that prophecy, the future, only holds as much weight as those who believe." His narrowed gaze met her firm one. "If prophecy and the will of the gods are not enough, you can only trust in yourself and the strength you possess." She extended her hand once more. "You will never know if you are worthy of Gaiseric, but you are worthy of the strength of what you give. Whose to say that wouldn't be enough?"
He watched the bauble dangle from her fingers, enticed in a feline curiosity by its sway. At last, he spoke. "Your words are poisoned honey." If for nothing else, he could prove her wrong with ease. There were always other ways to showcase strength aside from being chief, and if this was truly a trinket from the gods, then was his promise not already showing? The Skull King was said to have the God-given right to rule and conquer within his very blood, did he have one like this one in his time? The red eye seemed to stare back at him, reflecting his own features back in a transfixed state. The black color matched the current object of his watch, just as dark, just as mysterious, and in the days and even years that followed, he would regret not looking up and away from what held his interest as the beast itself seemed to reflect itself in that one egg; pawed in his hand and just out of reach.
"I will not catch you if you fall."His words carelessly cautioned the young wizard whom he brought up to his fur-coated back. He could feel the Wizard squirming to either hop off now or adjust to where he would not. As he stretched his wings out in preparation for flight, he felt what could have been a poke near his neck. Turning his head, he saw the Wizard grasping onto his fur with one hand, the other holding his sword which was aimed at his neck.
"I won't have to worry about falling if I have something sturdy to hold onto," the Wizard sarcastically threatened. It would have been a nuisance from another of his stock, but he could smell the heat of the fight still lingering on him, exhausted as he was. It seemed only to be enhanced by the fact that he had also just witnessed one of his companions perished before him. He was unsure of the camaraderie the two wizards had, but it seemed enough to compel him into an irrational acceptance. He was putting his life in his paws, after all. It was enough for him to show some fangs in malicious benevolence.
"You would need a large sword than that. I may just leave you to walk the rest of the way, but that would hardly be a reward for your hard-fought victory."
He could feel the Wizard's cautious confusion. "You were the one who-,"
"It was your victory," he assured. "He was already dead from your attack, healing would have only done so much. The rest of his followers had already fallen as well. The grave was already dug and the casket in place, I merely put the body in that you provided." He flapped his wings, lifting up and off the ground, stopping at a point where they could see the unfolding chaotic art that was Falconia. "I ask you again, where is it you seek?"
Would the Wizard divulge where it was his purposes lay? Or - a much better question entered his mind.
"..." the Wizard was thinking hard, internally debating if he should say anything or not. "...The Tower of Rebirth," he finally said, albeit with great reluctance.
He allowed his eyes to seek out the tower in the distance. It was impossible to miss the number of fellow War Demons that lined the way to where the Wizard spoke of. "And your other companions, they are there as well?" more importantly - him.
The Wizard was back on being defensive. It was smart of him; he knew that this extension could last only as long as he willed it to. "The others don't have anything to do with this. That's where I need to be."
"Your companions do have something to do with this," he insisted. "I already know that you are not alone. Are the rest of your companions there or elsewhere in the city?"
"What does it matter?" he was being evasive.
"You have a way to talk to them. Those hairs on your fingers, you know where they are; if they are not where you seek to go, they must be fighting their way there as well." He could tell he was on the right path. "Grunbeld and his forces are moving slowly from the western district to where you seek, same with the one Godhand." He would let that news dwell with the young mage. "Some of mine and the remainder of Locus' forces line the way from here to the tower. Your companions can see themselves with a grueling fight, or not." Before the Wizard could question him on what he meant, he was already flying in the direction of the tower, the scene of his magical battle becoming a mere dot to them as they ascended.
They ripped past the wind, the Wizard seemingly momentarily at ease at the prospect of being in the air, almost as if he had been born with wings himself. He would have made an excellent flier if he had been chosen as an apostle in the spot of his now late rival. Some members of his Fliers unit were circling around some of the buildings below and he made a rapid descend down toward them. They didn't look up with suspicion of their leading captain, unsuspecting of the passenger of which he carried. On his back, he could feel the Wizard tense as he saw the direction they were headed toward the other apostles.
"What are you doing?!" there was no betrayal in his voice if he never trusted to start with.
"I am making a deal with you, Wizard. I will not be taking you to the tower you seek. This I do to ensure we both get what we desire. You aimed your blade at my neck not a moment ago. Show me you are not too exhausted to still use it."
Claws gleamed with an edge sharper than steel, and he shot down faster once he tucked his wings to his side. Even when the War Demons saw him coming, they could barely process what a human was doing on his back. Some of them didn't even notice as both claws, horn, teeth, and steel acted as a part of art that only used the color red. A deal had been made, and a deal had been sealed.
The headache was unbearable. Her whole skull felt it was being splintered in two pieces, neither one sure if it would be the one left standing after it ended. They had never felt like this in the past, she hardly felt any at all when conducting sermons to let the spirits communicate with the living. When those were done she would just feel an intense bout of nausea and fell asleep soon after. This was far different.
"Uughn!" she moaned, gripping her head and leaning against a wall to not fall over. She felt she could do nothing. Unable to call for help, unable to walk, and unable to even reach out to Luna. The connection between the two of them had been stronger than ever in recent days. She could see the other blonde girl as clear as day whenever she wanted, so long as the magical girl wanted to talk to her as well. That connection seemed a drop of light that was falling down an endless well right about now. The worst part wasn't knowing why this was happening, it was not being able to have anyone who could help.
The right side of her head felt invisible horse hooves trampling around, jumping, kicking. The rider atop of the imaginary horse worked on cutting, hacking, slashing the matter that was beyond the layer of bone. Her eyes starting to see red dots of light. Meanwhile, the left side of her head felt a compressed feeling. She thought her head was getting smaller, being pinched between two giant fingers. Her eye felt an almost sucking pressure like it was being pulled back and into her skull. It might have just been her hair standing on the edge, but she felt like that side of her brain was about to freeze and melt right out of her head.
Sonia couldn't pretend like she knew exactly what was going on, or what was causing this feeling; all she knew was that it had to do with the layers, the very same that bound and separated hers and Luna's worlds. And she could feel it. A push and a pull both happening at once, neither together or apart. She couldn't focus. She just felt all caught up in something much larger than herself. She had soared under the wings of a majestic hawk that pulled the sun, and she thought through the pain if she had flown too close.
Feeling as if her legs were about to finally give out from supporting her, a soft yet firm mailed hand grabbed her arm. "Sonia!" the stout young man shouted.
"Uugh. M-mule?" Sonia opened her eyes enough to see the outline of the young Lord Wolflame. "What are you... doing here. Trying to act brave for me?"
"The Midland Standard Army is still in disarray," Mule explained as he slung her arm around his neck and began to walk with her. "A mounted intruded was briefly spotted entering the palace and the stationary guard is attempting to track him down." Somehow Sonia suspected that they would never find who or what they were looking for. Another throb of pain hit her.
"Gnnh!" Sonia rubbed at her temple to try and clear away the lingering pain. It was a bit embarrassing to have to be dragged and supported by Mule. He was a friend of her age, but she did tease him a lot in regards to her medium abilities. It made her feel guilty about not giving him enough credit where it was deserved. Even she could be wrong, not often but still, at times.
Mule supported her further. "Did something hit you on the head?" he inquired intently. "Just try to stay awake. I can at least make sure I can get you to safety before anything else happens. No one's seen General Owen since he disappeared with Queen Charlotte; General Laban was found stabbed in a corridor, the on;y real leader we can rely on now is Sir Griffith."
"Where... is he?" Sonia managed to ask. Her curiosity had gotten the best of her. It was Griffith who first rescued her, Griffith who befriended her, believed in her. She was enraptured by all of it, blinded by the light that came off of him. Her thoughts went back to Luna and the not-so-subtle warnings the other blonde had given her about her suspicions about the Hawk of Light. Sonia had always dismissed them as being wrong, her admiration outweighing her logic. Yet, the queen had refused him at their wedding, wizards who had attacked Luna's school had been here, their city was under attack now and no one seemed to have any idea as to why. If she could talk to Griffith, find out where he was...
"Sir Griffith is leading a division of War Demons to where the fighting seems to be concentrated the most," Mule curtly answered. "Until such a time, he hasn't given any formal orders for the Standard Army to directly engage the enemy." He was leaving them behind?
"Why...?" she asked, barely acknowledging Mule while doing so.
"Huh?" Mule asked in surprise. "He probably figured it was safest to withhold the human division until he can properly assess the threat. A threat like this-,"
"-Does he not trust us?" Sonia asked, Mule's words falling on deaf ears. "Why go alone? The Standard Army fought alongside the War Demons against Emperor Ganishka, why not now?" They could help - she could help. If for nothing more, to know, to understand why this was happening. Luna's words of caution seemed more prevalent than she had ever paid a second thought about.
Meanwhile, Mule was staring at her with concern, not able to tell if she was saying things because of her current state or if she truly believed them. Sonia wasn't even sure if she knew. The pain in her head reflected the shift the palace seemed to undertake at that very moment. Not able to support both of them, Mule fell as the resounding tremor coursed through the entirety of the palace. "Oof!" Mule cringed as his head smacked against the wall.
It might have just been the dizziness of her vision at the moment, but the whole hall seemed to be tilting, twisting almost, a condensing pressure pulling it in toward the beginning and end of itself as impossible as that seemed. The only thing that made her believe she wasn't just seeing it was the fact that both she and Mule seemed to slide from the floor and onto the wall along with the decorative paintings and pieces of art that lined the hall. They very well could have been in a tube that a giant hand was turning for its own personal amusmentThe palace was tilting.
Whatever was responsible for such a feat was beyond her understanding. She could only compare it to what she felt the pain to be in her head; two sides splitting, neither one or whole.
After a while of running, the sound of metal boots against the cobblestone fell into a sort of rhythm. Not just for his large and heavy pair of boots, Casca's lighter ones as well. Even Schierke's light feet would have made noise if she were running with them. In order to conserve her energy, Guts had taken it to just carry her with one arm as his other held Dragonslayer.
Ever since sending Silat off ahead to meet with Farnese and the rest at the Tower of Rebirth, the number of War Demons hadn't been as frequent as they had been led to believe. He would have thought the Bakiraka leader would have been killed and the War Demons having left to pursue some of the other Kushan assassins throughout the city, or even beeline straight toward the tower itself. But that proved not to be the case.
Farnese had mentally reached out to them to let them know that Silat and his one remaining personal guard had in fact made it to the tower safely and were now just waiting on the arrival of Harry and Schierke for the ritual to proceed as planned.
"You can set me down now," Schierke said to him as they rounded another corner, this time leading to what looked to be large bathhouses for the citizens of this part of the city.
"Don't go wearing yourself out," Guts told her as Casca looked over her shoulder to make sure no War Demons were following after them.
"I can say the same for you," the witch countered him. "You and Casca have been doing much of the fighting so far and carrying me is a strain that you don't need right now. We're almost there, I can keep up with you both, trust me." His lone eye saw the determination swirling around in those green pools of hers that had enough force to rival a hurricane. Once she was a grown woman in a few years time, people would be wise to think twice before making her mad.
Guts quickly and easily set her down, never once slowing his own pace as they proceeded toward the bathhouses. "Don't chide me for being reckless next time," Guts advised the witch without turning to look behind him to see her trailing along just behind Casca.
Three whole bathhouses were lined side-to-side, the alleyways between them being narrow, and only would have allowed for them to go through one at a time. With space and buildings becoming more narrow, they could see very little of what awaited beyond, save for what looked like smoke or steam rising up. Going with a more straightforward option, Guts put his weight behind one foot and kicked the large, arching doors for one of the bathhouses open. The two behind him ushered themselves inside after him. As to be expected, it was deserted, save for them. There was a dividing wall running straight down the middle, probably a side each for men and women. They didn't bother to look which was which as they raced down along one of the sides. It was far larger and spacious on the inside than it appeared from outside, but it was still the same distance as going through an open alleyway.
Past the various tubs of clear, steaming water was the door to the other side if the large pillars lining the sides of it were any indication to go by. They were nearly there, he could feel the anticipation pumping through him right now, the feeling that it would be far from easy once they left this building. The pounding he was hearing in his ear could have been one of many things; his own anticipation, the Beast trying to make him lose control, or even just losing his hearing in general. Schierke's voice halted the pair of them. "Wait!"
Casca was the first to turn to face the young witch who had stopped just a little before them. "Schierke?" Casca inquired, she masked her nervousness well. They had done nothing but push through that they had not stopped for anything other than to dig their heels in and fight. "What is it?"
"It's... Harry," Schierke said, her hand finding a place on her head. "Were neither of you... never mind, just, try and use thought transference. He's there."
Putting his faith in his mage companion, Guts wordlessly complied with the witch. 'Harry,' he heard Schierke's voice inside of his own head. 'What's going on, where are you?'
'I'm... I'm alright for now.'
'What happened to you? Farnese let us know that Sirius had left to go and find you. You were facing off against Voldemort, weren't you?'
'I did. It's... that's over now. I'm still here.' He didn't outright say it, but he didn't give any indication about Sirius, not that he needed to. Guts had been initially suspicious about the seemingly care-free wizard when they first met - his involvement in pulling them off course hadn't helped that at first. But for all it was worth, the man still went out of his way to help them out with healing Casca, even leaving his old life behind in order to fight a war that wasn't his. One look back at her showed that she knew as well what had become of their latest companion. He didn't think it often of most people, but Sirius had been a good man to the end.
'Are all of you alright?' Harry's voice came back sounding desperate, pleading almost.
We're fine for now, Guts answered him. Casca, Schierke, and I are on our way to the tower right now.
'We're in a bathhouse of sorts right now,' Casca added on. 'Where are you?'
There seemed to be a hesitation on Harry's end as if he either didn't know or wasn't able to properly say. 'I'm... headed your way now,' Harry communed. Guts thought that was it until he heard the next words echo in his mind. 'Be ready.'
He looked back over to Casca and Schierke, neither seemed to understand what he meant by that other than the base meaning. Casca's fingers lightly danced on the hilt of Gryffindor's sword and Schierke had her staff raised in a way to perform a spell if needed. As for Guts, Dragonslayer remained in his hand as age-old instincts kept him on edge.
Schierke made an attempt to reach out once more to Harry. 'Harry, where exactly are-?'
Th-boom!
Dust fell from the ceiling as something hit the top of it, thoroughly interrupting Shierke's question. More dust fell, this time accompanied by the occasional marble tile, few at first and then becoming a plethora of debris. Guts squinted his eye to stop any small particles from getting in before checking to make sure his cannon arm had a fresh shot loaded and ready to go. Schierke had taken the time to engrave all cannonballs with magic runes to ensure they did extra damage to apostles and might even stand a chance of harming something like the Godhand.
Krrakrrrak!
Several more large pieces fell down from the ceiling as Guts caught his first view of the holes that had been made for the clawed appendage above. Razor sharp claws dug into the tiled ceiling and began to pull back on it. Before long, Guts, Casca, and Schierke were staring up at the open sky above through the hole that had just been made. The haze of the sun gave a deceptive outline of the lionel face staring down at them. Guts' teeth ground against themselves as Zodd tossed away another section of the roof, large enough for him to fit through as he dropped down from above.
The bat-like wings on the apostles back flared out to the side to ease his landing. They folded back to his sides as his hoofed feet touched the ground, stretching his back as he stood upright before going on all fours by bringing his fists to the ground. Guts moved as well, his prosthetic arm pointed at the hulking apostle and the other held a tight grip on his sword. "Both of you behind me!" Guts told them as he stared down the apostle he had crossed paths with the most.
Zodd emitted a low rumble from his throat that might have been a laugh. "Stay your blades, for now, strugglers. The fight is not yet at hand." His words didn't put any of them at ease. Casca and Schierke stayed behind him, but both of them showed that they didn't trust the words Zodd was speaking. The apostle noticed as well. "If you were to attack, I would be inclined to as well." For added effect, he barred some of his teeth. "But doing so would put my passenger in a precarious position. Wouldn't you agree?" reaching up behind his back, Zodd pulled out a known figure.
He held Harry in a monstrous gentle grip and placed him down on the floor, his paw not straying too far as Harry stood on shaky legs from exhaustion. "Harry!" Schierke called his name almost running forward only to be stopped by Casca and the warning look Harry sent her way.
"I'm alright," Harry assured from his spot next to the winged behemoth as he wilted a little on his feet. "Just... a little worn out is all." He seemed far worse than that. His recent fight against Voldemort and the loss of Sirius weren't doing any wonders for his body or mind.
"You may approach him, he will need the support." Zodd seemingly gave his permission only to be met with caution.
"Quit acting the part of a cat," Guts threatened the apostle. "Luring us in just to pounce might be in your nature, but don't go playing with your food."
"Human flesh doesn't catch my eye," Zodd called back. "And killing my reluctant companion is not what I intend. I would not have delivered him to you had he not proven his worth."
"What are you talking about?" Casca fiercely demanded of the mighty apostle. Any fear or anxiety she might have been feeling at the moment had faded at the sight of one of her companions in the lion's den.
Red-slit eyes regarded her. "The warrior woman, you speak at last. The last I saw, you were a babbling fool with the mind of a child. This suits you better. Your armor is shiny and new, yet already sparkling with blood. And your sword," it seemed to be the apple of his eye at the moment, "have you chosen it or has it chosen you?"
"...It hardly matters," Casca said back to him, the ruby in the hilt flashing a matching shade of red. "What have you done to him?" she pointed her sword toward Harry.
"I brought him here to you. I offered him my service after he impressed me in his fight against his rival. He wished for safe passage the rest of you to your destination." The way Zodd was talking, almost calm, Guts didn't think he was lying. That just made him confused. Not Zodd momentarily setting aside any animosity, he had done that when they fought Ganishka, but the fact that Harry had to have told him where they intended to go. Most of this plan was devised by Harry, so what could have made him think that telling Zodd where they were going was a good idea. Evidently, Schierke and Casca seemed to have reached the same conclusion, a fact that did not go unnoticed by Zodd.
"You require proof? Very well." Zodd's paw curled into a fist and slammed into the far wall, letting chunks of tile and debris crumble down and offering them their first look at the other side of the street. The sight was impossible to miss.
The steam they had seen before entering now had a defined source - sources. All about the street and scattered along the rooftops were remains of varying apostles. Jaws had been torn from heads and heads had been cut from necks. Wings, teeth, arms, tails, and varying other appendages were strewn about as the hot blood from inside began to pool out and sizzle in the sun's light above. Some of the bodies even began reverting back to a human form, causing more steam to rise up.
"The path ahead is clear for now," Zodd spoke again, his voice a low rumble. "It will not be for long. Grunbeld and his unit still advance and Rakshas is unaccounted for. Then, there is the matter of Godhand Femto. He rides as well." He eyed Casca and Guts with curious amusement. "You do not have long before those reinforcements converge." He stood there, watching, waiting with restrained ferocity lurking behind his slit-eyes.
Guts didn't respond, sensing there was something more at play even if Zodd made no move to attack at the moment. It fell to Casca to ask the question that was on all of their minds. "Why?" she took a tentative step forward, keeping Schierke behind her. "Why do all of this? Are you defecting?"
"You misunderstand," Zodd told her. "As I said, the Wizard here impressed me a great deal during his duel. Such tenacity should not go unrewarded. I have long craved a true fight." His eyes stared down at Guts. "This war presents that opportunity; the path that was carved long ago is nearing its final cut." His tail flicked. "Go. Fulfill your own fight."
Zodd moved aside from the hole that he had punched in the wall, beckoning them to exit. None of them moved until Harry did, taking a step away from where Zodd was crouched and walked over to where they stood. The three of them made a move to meet him halfway, completely uninterrupted while doing so. When they within arms reach, Schierke grabbed hold of one of his arms and offered herself as a sort of crutch for him to lean on.
"You reckless idiot," she lightly scolded the other mage, something that she would have done more severely if the setting was less intense.
"How bad are you hurt?" Casca questioned, briefly taking her eyes off the apostle to visually search Harry for any severe wounds.
"It's nothing too serious," Harry tried his best to shrug off the severity of his previous encounter. "I can still do what I help out later." He cast a look over his shoulder to where Zodd continued to watch with feline patience. With Schierke's help, he turned around to face the apostle. "Are you going to stop us?"
"You? No. You should go now while you have the chance," Zodd advised. "And do take care to remember your own words, Wizard. Carve your own path."
Harry didn't seem to have anything to say in response to that. He only looked up at the hulking figure who made continued to remain in a statuesque position near the hole he had punched in the wall. Looking back over to Schierke, Harry began moving his legs, Schierke moving along with him as they made their way over to the new exit. Casca went along with them, positioning herself between the two and where Zodd was watching. But the mighty apostle made no move to strike out at them.
Guts never fully lowered his blade as he began to follow them up, positioning himself between Casca and Zodd; those eyes following him the whole way. Harry and the others had made it around the apostle, right next to the hole. As he made a move to follow and turn away, he was back on high alert when he heard the Wramm!
Zodd had slammed his large, clawed fist down onto the tiled floor, cracking the tiles beneath his paw. "Not you." Guts got a good look at his white-fanged maw morphed into a ferocious snarl. "You stay here. Stay and fight."
Harry and the others halted in their walk, halted with baited breaths at the change in behavior. "You don't-," Harry began only to be cut off.
"It is not your business to tell me what I do and do not have to do, young Wizard." He turned his horned head to gaze down upon the mage. "I told you, I told you after your victory that we were not allies, I would merely offer my services as a sign of thanks. This is the price to be paid." Guts furrowed his brow as well, staring down the toothy beast with equal ferocity. He was hardly surprised that it would turn out like this.
"If- if all you want is a fight," Schierke began, voice shaking, "you've already slain other apostles, and if the Godhand is moving in, why not fight the strongest?"
Red met green as he stared her down. "I can see why you caught the attention of the Wizard. Strong-willed women attract good stock, but I would not expect you to understand. I care not for this city or the plans of Femto. This fight will allow me to know the truth." He took in her appearance. "You are young, a hatchling who can already fly. Better to let your wings grow than to have them clipped."
Casca had her sword pointed at the beast, both her hands on the hilt. "You said you liked my sword? I'm prepared to give you a closer look."
She was met with no animosity, instead, Zodd seemed to grin. "I doubt it not. Your feet have begun walking the path that had been robbed from you. How far will you travel down that road? Heed my words if you will; if you seek to avenge what was lost, do not forget. Only then will yours and their lives mean nothing." And for the briefest of moments, he saw Casca falter.
He doubted that she was actually afraid, but she had clearly not been expecting to hear those words spoken from an apostle. Her grip tightened on her sword. "Whatever it is you're trying to say, we're not about to just stand by and watch as you try to kill one of us!"
"Would you rather I kill one or all of you?" Zodd questioned. "The Wizard is injured, his partner supports him, and you would not complete your goal. By then, how many of your other companions will perish? Go. Go and finish the war as one last battle wages." Zodd turned to face him directly. "What say you, Guts?" he asked him by name.
Staring up at the horned beast, Guts saw the reflection in the apostle's eyes. There was ferocity, but not malice; a stern yet calming anticipation that fed off of deep desperation. It was no different than looking into the eyes of a beast, or that of a man who had seen one and the other. It was a sane madness.
"Casca," he stopped to look over to her. "Get the two of them to the tower safely."
"You want me to just leave you behind?!" Casca was understandably distraught. "If something happens, then-,"
"I'll be there," Guts assured her. It was one more fight. One last one. "You may not need anyone to tell you this but, you're good at relying on your own strength. Believe that everyone else can do the same."
She wanted to say more. There were probably several things that she wanted to say or yell at him right then. Instead, she tried to summarize all of her disapproval, all her concern, and all her worry into just one look. He found it... funny how familiar it ended up looking to many of her previous looks yet still managing to be all new. It didn't even fade as she began ushering the two mages out of the makeshift exit.
"That truly is a fine blade you possess," Zodd said to her, briefly halting her exit. "Win or lose, let it taste blood."
Casca seemed tempted to take a look at her sword, but she did not let the words deter her as she made her way out escorting the two mages. Guts watched them go from the corner of his eye as his attention was focused on the opponent in front of him. He felt compelled to tell the beast, "I'm not doing this for me."
That actually seemed to elicit a toothy smile. "Of course not. When we first fought, you thought only of yourself, I consider myself fortunate that you have grown. You have found something far beyond any single hilt, you now wear it over your armor. But understand, I am doing this for myself." A meticulously strained grin spread across his maw in a fond, melancholy, nostalgic manner. "Be better, Guts."
From down here on the ground, Harry could only see the partial remains of the work he and Zodd had done. It had mostly been the winged apostle who had decimated the enemy ranks, Harry merely provided some basic protection enchantments around them along with a few air spells and using his sword if one tried to attack from behind. The sensation was one that he had yet to fully come to terms with yet failed to feel as fresh as it had been. Farnese had briefly been their enemy when they first met, but upon her seeing that there was more to the truth than what she had been told, she had joined their side. It had been far too much wishful thinking for him to think maybe they could have gained another.
Ivalera, who had been taking refuge under Schierke's hat, made her appearance. "You did all of this?" she asked, taking in the sight of the still fresh corpses of the apostles. "You did all this and beat that Voldemort guy who was after you? You've been holding back for far too long."
"It wasn't just me," Harry said one of the roofs collapsed from the strenuous weight from on top of it. "Even with Voldemort, he let his followers go loose and they might have finished me off if Sirius hadn't-," he paused. It was silly of him. He knew what happened, he had seen it happen and he had accepted it. Yet actually saying it out loud, that seemed to open an invisible wound that he didn't know he had.
"Don't start on that," Casca ordered him as her eyes followed the road ahead. "We all knew what the price might be for coming here. After everything he did to help, I have a lot to be thankful for. We all have someone we want to avenge; don't fail him where it matters." She was focused, but her mind seemed to be on other things, namely letting Guts fight Zodd on his own. That too was partially his fault.
Zodd would have wanted a fight, either way, that was to be expected so Harry could not feel any betrayal from the apostle for acting as he would. Guts had fought him before and even matched the demon warrior in swordplay. Harry's main concern was the Berserker Armor. Guts had last used it while fighting the Sea God and had claimed to somewhat have a better understanding of it with thanks from Skull Knight's words. But if Guts won this fight, how in control would he be once they encountered Neo-Griffith?
"Have faith in Guts," Schierke said next to him as she acted as his crutch. She didn't need thought transference to know what he was thinking about, she was likely thinking the same thing. "The both of you can expect to thoroughly be chewed out after all of this. Same goes for Isidro."
"You heard from Isidro?" Harry asked. "What's going on with him?"
"He and Rickert... were successful in destroying the stones outside of the city," Schierke said with as much confidence as she could muster. "I heard from him after the explosion went off, he said they were both alright, but... I haven't heard from him since."
The way she said it just then. "You don't think that he...?" he knew that Schierke was easily annoyed by the rusty-haired youth and took joy in partly transfiguring him into a monkey, but she never wished any serious harm on him. Harry found him endearingly annoying too, but if something had actually happened to their loud-mouthed friend...
"No," Schierke responded, firmly and with confidence. "He might not be answering, but I can still feel the connection. If he's hurt, he's actually playing it smart and staying out of the fighting."
That was good, relieving to hear. Maybe Rickert had talked Isidro out of doing anything too rash like running straight into the thick of things. The both of them, Isidro and Rickert, he had plenty he wanted to talk to them about and reminiscing Rickert's responsibility to Erica and Isidro's aspirations to become a legendary swordsman like Guts, they both had plenty to live for to suddenly be cut short and robbed. The only thing he could do for them now was to have faith in them that they knew what to do themselves. And not just them, everyone.
Looking at it now, the steps leading up to the Tower of Rebirth didn't seem so intimidating. It also could have been due to a deadly serene breeze that seemed to blow their way as they ascended the steps as they had years ago. "You've arrived." The voice of Serpico accompanied the gust of wind as he seemed to blow in from somewhere around the base of the structure. "Where's Guts?"
"Serpico," Casca greeted their blonde companion. "Guts... he's fighting one of them. He allowed me to get the two of them here safely."
"I see," Serpico nodded. "Very well. We should hurry. Lady Farnese is inside where its safest. I've been patrolling the outside, keeping some unwanted pests from investing." Casting a look over the side, Harry could see a few insectoid apostles that he knew that he and Zodd had nod killed. The cuts were far too narrow and graceful to come from any claw or fang.
With Serpico taking the lead up the rest of the stairs, the trio was greeted with a few more familiar faces waiting on the landing just outside the door. "What ho! Good fortune to you, my companions!" Sir Azan stood stout and firm, guarding his spot by the tower's entrance. "I'm joyed to see you made it out of the palace alive and intact!"
"As far as you can see," the dry as sand tone of Silat remarked as he and the remainder of his Bakiraka stood at attendance as well. It wasn't hard to discern why Silat sounded so tensely remorse; close to fifty remained, maybe less.
"Is this everyone?" Casca asked, also noticing how few their numbers had become.
"Unless any surprise reinforcements show up," Silat looked over at his one remaining personal guard.
"Your orders?" Serpico asked of her as he kept his gaze out and over the cityscape, watching for enemies who were sure to be arriving.
"Sir Azan and I will keep guard here and oversee the forces we have," Casca instructed. "Silat, Serpico, go with the two of them and meet with Farnese. I don't need to tell you what needs to be done." She received an affirmative from the Slyph user. Feeling enough strength to stand on his own, Harry separated from Schierke as a crutch and followed after Serpico as he led the way inside the tower.
It wasn't long after that they were equated with another blonde. "You're both here!" Farnese smiled with distraught relief upon the sight of her two teachers. "I was starting to get so nervous! I thought that-, never mind! I'm just... how do we proceed." She might not have been involved directly in any fight so far, but she was clearly stressed.
"Easy, Farnese," Schierke soothed the older girl. "We'll be going into our astral bodies so you better have a clear mind."
"I- sorry, Teacher," Farnese apologized. "How do we proceed?"
"This tower is apparently the only thing left from when this used to be Windham," Schierke reminded as she cast a light spell to disperse the gloom around them. "It has a stronger tie to the past and astral world than any we could hope for here. And since we're going lower than anybody ever has in the astral layers..."
"I know just the place," Harry said with lackluster nostalgia. Even as Serpico and he led the way down the winding stairway, he thought back to that one night. He had been down this way before with Guts, Casca, Judeau, Pippin, Charlotte, and Anna. It seemed like forever ago now, but little had changed. There were no prisoners behind any of the cell doors this time, just skeletons of a time past. The spacious chasm off to the side of the stairs was as ominous and gaping as ever. A city of the branded lay at the very bottom of that pit.
Was this what their astral journey would look like? Just a downward spiral into darkness in an attempt to cut the Abyss from the rest of the layers. The whole thing could have been the madness of his imagination, but the air seemed to be getting lighter. He knew Serpico wasn't doing anything of the sort to manipulate the area around them. It might have just been his own understanding of magic now and how to properly feel it. He had been ignorant for so long about everything. Before it had just been a simple matter of rescuing their leader from jail - if any of them knew how things would turn out, how different would it have been?
Just fragments of wood lay scattered about on the floor, busted clean by a sword that couldn't hold a candle to Dragonslayer. "This is it," Harry said as the stairs came to an abrupt end right here. Any further and they'd be walking right off of a straight drop down into the black pit.
Serpico had his sword out and faced the upwards stairs. "None shall harm you. Proceed as you will." Silat looked more skeptical, but having come this far now, it would be moot if he tried to weasel out. He stood ready as well.
Looking at the two girls, Harry could see a variety of emotions in their eyes alone. Even as they all sat down, staffs touching the ground, they all said exactly what they needed to in just one look. Their minds seemed almost as one as their conscious began to expand out of them, going past their physical bodies and into something far more ethereal.
It felt... overwhelmingly numbing. And yet...
...
It wasn't bad.
No sooner had Casca, Harry, and Schierke left, Zodd was upon him. Barrelling straight toward him on all fours, his fangs gleamed in the light from the hole above. Not missing a beat either, Guts used his teeth to yank the string that attached to his prosthetic. His metallic fist folded down and his cannon went off.
Boom!
The projectile soared at Zodd with rival speed, yet the apostle tracked its movement with his cat-like eyes and jumped out of the way. The rune that had been etched on still managed to pull a surprise of its own. Almost feeling the presence of an apostle nearby, the ball exploded before it could pass Zodd by completely. The resulting explosion took the beast by surprise and burnt some of the furs on his left arm. He huffed in response and charged again.
Guts moved as well, bringing Dragonslayer to his side and above his head, he aimed to strike while Zodd was off balance. He had no such luck as Zodd quickly jerked his head and his single, large horn met his strike with greater force and knocked it to the side. Making full use of all of the abilities he had access too, Zodd quickly spun around, his tail managing to sweep Guts' feet out from under him.
He was already pushing himself back up when he saw the clawed fist coming straight down on him. His world and vision turned upside-down as he rolled out of the way as Zodd's large fist collided with the floor, cracking the tiles well beyond repair. Kkkrrakk!
Zodd huffed in indignant satisfaction. "Not bad. But it is far from what I have come to expect. Has time made you lose your tenacity? I know that is not the case. Show me!" roaring in defiance, Zodd sunk his claws into the floor and began to upheave the whole thing. Guts felt his balance shake before he steadied himself.
Zodd gave him little time to react before he threw a huge chunk of the floor at him. Raising Dragonslayer to act as a shield, Guts quickly transitioned into a spinning cut to slice apart the largest pieces that came his way. His eye darted to the other pile Zodd had in his paw, but he never used them. Zodd spread his wings and took off to the ceiling. Guts knew that he was not running away and he let his instincts take over as Zodd began knocking the whole roof down, raining stone and tile down upon him from above.
Squinting his eye through the dust, Guts brought his body close to itself as a large column came down on him. He waited for the right moment before he used his legs to push up his whole body and thrust Dragonslayer up and around in an arching cut to decimate the falling rubble. "Ghaa!" Guts coughed up from the encroaching dust falling around him. His eye stung, but he was still able to discern the large figure pouncing on him.
His razor-sharp claws were extended, ready to slice flesh from muscle. Anticipating Zodd's latest strike, Guts raised Dragonslayer and successfully blocked the attack from landing. Now Guts took the offensive and took a wide and fast swing at Zodd's flank. His attack failed to land as well. Zodd brought his other paw down and knocked his strike aside, his claws raking their way across Dragonslayer's length, sparks flying as the two scraped against the other.
Guts pulled back and made another swing, feigning for a low cut then bringing it up in a flash. Zodd failed to knock it aside with his claws but did manage to use his horn to deflect the impending strike. And they continued on like that, Guts moving and taking mad swings at him with Dragonslayer and Zodd using all he had, claws, teeth, and horn to keep him at bay and to lash out in equal ferocity.
Making a move to swing Dragonslayer, Guts felt a thumping pain run along his arm as Zodd wrapped his paw around his sword arm, squeezing as he did so in an attempt to force Guts to drop his sword. "Rrrhaa!" Zodd's breath was hot against his face as his teeth looked ready to tear into his flesh.
Before Zodd could bite into him, Guts struggled to pivot his left arm up to point directly into Zodd's open maw. Seeing what Guts intended to do, Zodd hurriedly pulled his head away and tossed Guts to the side, his cannon firing a dead shot right into the ground. Taking to the air once more, Zodd flew through the destroyed roof and dived right back down toward where Guts attempted to rise.
Knowing that he would not be able to roll out of the way in time, Guts brought Dragonslayer to his chest to act as a shield once again. It did little to soften the impact s one of Zodd's hooved feet came down upon him, pressing down with the force of six grown bulls. "Gnlsh!" Guts could taste metal in his mouth as the pressure continued to build.
There was no way he could just push Zodd off as he was now, but he could get him to move on his own. With both hands, he began to twist the hilt of Dragonslayer, moving it so the blade began to turn and press against Zodd's hoofed foot. The bone started to split down the middle as Zodd applied more pressure and Guts began to push with all he was worth upwards, driving the blade even deeper into Zodd's foot.
"Hrrrooo!" Zodd showed his first sign of pain in a grotesquely delightful roar. He lifted his foot just enough for Guts to roll out from under, pulling his blade free in the process. Glaring over at his foe, Guts saw that the pain he had dealt only seemed to push Zodd further and motivate him. It was annoying, really, but how many dead men and monsters could say the same about him? There was no point in even engaging Zodd in talk now about this fight, Guts could figure out what would happen if either of them should lose, it really was the same.
Maybe that's what he found funny about it.
Zodd was moving again, his claws extended and ready to slash him. They caught the very end of his black cloak as Guts stepped inside of Zodd's swipe. He intended to just impale him through the heart, but he knew that'd be pushing whatever luck he had way too far. As expected, Zodd used his horn to intercept Guts' incoming strike and hold him at bay in a stalemate.
Fierce red met an unflinching brown as they locked into place. Guts put more power into his legs and began to push Dragonslayer into the side of Zodd's horn where they clashed. A small crack started to appear in the bony protrusion. Sensing that he was in danger, Zodd pushed his head forward, letting Dragonslayer sink in a bit deeper before lurching his head up and bringing Guts with it.
Getting annoyed with the apostle, Guts used his free arm to wrap around Zodd's horn as he pulled Dragonslayer free. With one hand, he made ready to cut a chunk off of Zodd's furry face. Much to Guts' impressed annoyance, Zodd managed to catch the blade with his teeth, a warped grin on his face as he held it in place.
A familiar bubbling filled Guts as he thought about it and he twisted Dragonslayer as much as he could as Zodd still held it in place with his pointed teeth. From what he could do, he saw dark blood begin to leak out from the corner of Zodd's mouth as the end of his blade cut at parts of his tongue and the inside of his mouth. It was nothing too serious, but it was enough for Zodd to realize Guts still had leverage on him.
The wind seemed to leave Guts' lungs as one of Zodd's fists connected with his torso and sending him flying until he collided with the wall and his grip failing Dragonslayer. "Pffha!" he spat up a cough of blood and he could see spots in his blurry vision. He thought the room itself was spinning straight towards him until he realized that the shape was one he knew by memory.
It was easy to duck the spinning form of Dragonslayer impaled itself in the wall where he had been. Grasping at the hilt, Guts took up his blade once again. Not a second too late either as Zodd rushed him again, this time aiming to stomp him in a stampede. Tucking and rolling away from Zodd's trampling feet, Guts spun on the ground and cleaved a chunk of bone from one of Zodd's hooves. It elicited another roar from the apostle as he aimed a more simple kick at Guts which he blocked with Dragonslayer.
Whipping around, Zodd brought his tail up and cracked it back down on Guts. But the Black Swordsman was wise to his strategy; he raised his sword and stuck it through Zodd's tail as he went to whip him with it again. "Rrruugh!" Zodd roared once again as Guts twisted the blade and cut his tail clean in half.
Feeling the real heat of the battle now, Zodd spun around with his forearm sweeping out, a seeming wall of black heading his way. Guts met his strike with his own, managing to land a strike on his arm with Dragonslayer. Blood and fur mixed as Guts attempted to push Dragonslayer in deeper, to take off Zodd's entire arm. As expected, the apostle was not going to allow that to happen.
With his free arm, Zodd attempted a second strike on Guts, only to pull a bluff before his punch could connect. Instead, Zodd used his head, more specifically - his horn to sweep out and strike Guts across his armor-clad chest. He was launched backward once again, feeling the wind leave him yet again from the impact of Zodd's strike. His head struck the dividing wall and he could feel his hair in the back become wet and sticky. But even as he began to feel a numbing sensation, one feeling stood out more than the rest.
'Unleash yourself.'
The voice was back. The snarling maw seemed to nip at his ear, maliciously begging him to let him off the leash. It was something that he had wanted to avoid doing just yet. Griffith was still out there right now. If he lost control before then, before they could cut off the power of the Abyss, he risked putting their whole plan in jeopardy. If Zodd had been in his human form, Guts would have ended things by now, they had been evenly matched when they last fought. This was likely Zodd's way of showing how serious he was taking their current fight, nothing held back.
As frustrating as it was, he could understand it.
He understood it all too well.
Even now, as he forced himself to rise, having taken far more damage than he had dealt, he understood perfectly well what this was all about. All the pain he was feeling right now, none of that mattered. It was just what he knew, what he had been taught from the earliest of ages and most likely something Zodd had finally figured out for himself as well. This was all there was for them. Zodd was bound by what he had become, embodied in that monstrous form he took right now. His entire existence reflected perfectly in those slit-pupil eyes. Staring into the eyes of the approaching apostle, Guts' mind went back to a time he wished he could forget, the night he had accidentally killed the young boy, Adonis.
He had been in a dazed state back then too and yet, he could recall what his mind drifted to. The face he had seen attached to the very body which was now looming over him. His own.
He wouldn't allow that.
Zodd broke a pillar off from the dividing wall and cracked it in half with ease. "Surely you're not worn out just yet, you haven't even used your armor yet. Is the beast stronger than the man? If that is so, it is very unfortunate for both of us." He swung the broken pillar down, striking true.
It was quiet out here, secluded, just as he liked. It had been getting far too noisy back with the others. Everyone wanted something different and they all wanted everything solved right away-their way. It was the price to be paid for being the chief. The black bauble that hung from his waist felt heavier, but he knew it was just his mind playing tricks on him. The day he had won the spot was a day he didn't have it on him, a fact that the now soothsayer loved to mention whenever he saw her.
Out of everyone else, it had been him. He alone had relied on his strength, and now he reaped the benefits of his hands, by his hands. He had already begun carving out his own path, and he had to wonder, to consider if this is how the once King Gaiseric started as well. A boy of nothing elevated to the King of all the land. Just how strong had he been? He looked at the sword that rested next to him. Could he ever be like that? It was a fool's question to even ponder that. He would never know for sure, the man was long since dead.
There was a rustle in the bush somewhere on his flank.
He reached for his sword but paused. No predator would be so careless as to give away their position so carelessly. And if it was... he could give one of the children a fresh pelt, give them something to strive for, perhaps the wild girl, even at ten she could take down the biggest of boys in wrestling. And it was to his surprise that the body that trudged through the bush was one of those younglings.
The boy obviously hadn't seen him, he walked with his head down and eyes downcast. This fool was making himself a prime target for any predators that might be lurking nearby. He should be lucky that he was no such thing.
"You are an awfully long way from your mother, aren't you."
The instant he spoke, the boy became a startled fawn, eyes widening as he froze on the spot. "C-chief!" he bowed his head in respect. "I'm sorry! I was just walking, I didn't know that you were here!"
"Hm. You didn't know that a great many things are here. Show me your sword."
"I-I don't have one." he lowered his head in shame, as he should.
"Ah. So you came out here to die, is that the case?"
The youngling shook his head.
"You shouldn't lie. Lying to your chief can mean two things. And aside from your mother, would anyone miss a bastard child like yourself." That seemed to strike a nerve.
"I'm not a bastard."
"It is a sad sight for a tame mutt to act the part of a wild wolf," he stared the boy down. "You know the truth. Your mother went with the other women to gather fruit and when she returned, she had you in her arms. Babes do not grow on trees, the last I checked." He could see the reluctant pain in the boy's face. Were children becoming softer with passing generations? He had never been like that.
And I never realized at the time.
"Sit," he ordered the whelp. "You've still to tell me why you're out this far."
"I was just walking, Chief."
"Why?"
"Because sh- I lost in a fight."
"And you come here to sulk? Was this your first fight?"
He shook his head. "No."
"So this is your first time losing?"
Again, "No. This is just my first time losing to- this person."
"Is this person the wild girl?" a nod this time. "You lost to a girl and you come here to cry like one. Find honor in your defeat." He had suffered many beatings as a young whelp himself, and now he was the strongest out of all of them. He learned something from every single one of those losses.
"Chief... you know about her?"
"Aye, I do." He knew every child in the tribe. "I will not arrange for her to be your mate if that is why you ask."
"No!" he quickly and horribly denied. "I just wanted to know, how did she become so good?"
"She watches and learns." Much like he had been as a youth. "You'd do well to pay attention to the stories told around the fires." She had been there as he recited stories he had heard about the warrior king of old. The same fascination that he held for that enigma shone in her eyes as well. "It may even be the case that she has the blood of Gaiseric in her." If she was descended from a bastard of one of Gaiseric's sons, then she very well could be.
"Is that why you're the strongest?" he asked. "Do you have special blood?" he seemed to realize his mistake as soon as he spoke. "I'm sorry, Chief! I didn't mean to-,"
"You are quite curious for a bastard. We are supposed to grow up faster than the others. Even if I did, it hardly matters." The black bauble rubbed against his side.
Had I stopped listening to my own words? Or was it only in that desperate moment that I believed differently?
"Do well to remember, bastard, if you cannot trust anything else, trust what you know; use it to build yourself up and make it your sword and shield."
"And, if I do that..." he was hesitating, something he found annoying, "would I be able to be as strong as you?"
"Is that what you aspire for, to be my equal?" a nod of his head. "Then let me tell you this; kill that dream of yours." He stood up, towering over the youngling. "You truly do not know how lucky you are to be able to see and talk to the one you respect, to know more than just stories passed down. You want to be my equal one day, and you have offended me. Do you think I do not desire to better myself, that I do not believe I can advance further? Learn. Become better, be even stronger. You'd be a true disgrace, even more than you are now."
His words clearly shook the boy, but they were ones he needed to hear. He couldn't just drink milk for the rest of his life. He pointed back the way he had come, letting the meaning sink in very clear. The boy was smart enough to understand. Before he went on his way back to the rest of the tribe he paused to ask, "Chief, why were you out here?"
"That is hardly your place to know, bastard," he bluntly stated. "Keep your eyes sharp, if you will. A beast might be close by." He had still yet to see it. If his growth had meant anything, he had to be on the lookout for that elusive sight. A sign of his own carved path.
Zodd found he could press the pillar no further. His muscles bulged from beneath his fur-coated hide and he could feel his arm shake. Guts' sword was plunged into his makeshift club, his teeth bared, his eye only barely visible as the helm of his armor began to creep up to encompass the upper portion of his head. He felt an internal smirk. There it was.
Guts was pushing forward with his legs now, forcing him to move backward as well. Krrk. Zodd could feel the slab of stone he held began to crack, to split down the middle as his sword pushed its way through. Attempting to pull away and attack with a clawed punch, Zodd's chance was interrupted as Guts launched himself forward on his legs, splitting the stone that separated them fully in half, the blade later sinking right through his paw.
With his free arm, Zodd whacked him across the chest, sending him flying through the dividing wall of the building. His sword was pulled free with him as he went flying. Spotting where he had landed, Zodd used his wings in juncture with his legs as he dove toward his opponent, fully grasping him with both of his paws. His teeth scratched against his armor, seeking to penetrate the flesh beneath if he could. When Guts began to push his arms out to the side, Zodd realized that he was escaping from his grasp.
Before he could fully escape, Zodd tossed him down into one of the clear pools of water, the armor weighing Guts down before he could fully rise back up. Zodd then took that chance to use both of his hooves to stomp down on the swordsman, forcing him back down beneath the now sloshing surface. That armor may not allow him to feel any pain, but that did not mean the damage was not there. Even if it that armor would keep pinning him back together to fight longer, he could still perish from suffocation.
Bubbles rose to the surface but Zodd kept his weight pressed down on the armored body below. Something much greater than a mere bubble rose up from the sloshing water. Zodd pulled his torso back as the cannon shot rocketed up into the air, glowing before exploding next to his torso. He could feel some of his furs get scorched by the blast, but nothing that he couldn't easily heal from. The same could not be said for his foot as he felt the icy hot blade stab into his bony hoof, splitting it until it was down the middle. His dark blood tainted the water as he was forced to let up and Guts sprang straight up, the fish catching the bear off guard.
He was fast, his blade was going to impale him straight up through the chin. And he would've had Zodd not clapped his paws together, catching the massive blade between his clawed paws. Blood leaked down the blade's length as it cut into his paws, yet he held his grip, applying more pressure to it. If he could, he would attempt to bend or even break the blade in half. Looking down at Guts, he saw that the man still had control over his senses, his humanity triumphant.
Guts seemed to curl his body in on itself before kicking his legs backward and spinning up and out of Zodd's grasp. He was airborne now, his path leading him to land behind Zodd and to maybe even carve up his back in the process. He wasn't about to let that happen. With what remained of his tail, Zodd used it to whip at Guts. He struck true, but it lacked the force to properly stop him. Zodd felt a delightfully searing pain as his remaining tail was reduced to a mere stub as the sword carved it away with a spiraling cut.
Sensing the encroaching blade coming for him, Zodd unearthed a marble statue from near the pool and whirled around to smack the swordsman with it. The statue shattered as Guts was flung back further across the room. Zodd's paws clawed their way across the tiled floor, his horn striking Guts in the side, but failing to pierce his armor. The face. If he could get him there...
His claws lashed out toward Guts' only exposed skin.
Between his middle digits, the side of the sword cut through.
Now!
Zodd struck with his other paw, almost catching him had he not moved at the last second. His punch still collided and sent Guts flying through the wall and into the neighboring luxury structure in addition.
The tenacity was to be expected. He was giving it his all, they both were. He had almost expected that cursed armor to have a full hold on the man, but it seemed that wasn't the case. Was his will to fight so strong he could defeat the own demons within himself? That nature, that was something that they both - that they all had.
He flew up to the roof of the next resort and started to pound on it, making it rain rubble down as he had done previously. His eyes saw through the dust, the twisted, metal body that was spurting out blood as it repaired itself for more fighting.
Do you fight with yourself right now? Two battles rage around you, yet you know which one.
The Wizard had known as well. His fight was beyond any one man, such as the mystery that was magic - beyond comprehension. And even before that, he had given the behelit over to that girl, the very same girl who was a disgrace to her lineage. And yet... she yielded. She had been ignorant to everything, her only sights set on a childish fantasy. And she had given it all up.
Her refusal, the Wizard's acceptance, that woman's spirit, there was all of that, all things he had once had and now he was the strongest of the apostles. Strength he had been gifted in a moment of weakness.
I could have refused.
He dropped down onto the new tiled floor, it shattered under him as he faced the swordsman. He tore off two new pillars from the wall and swung them as Guts became a blur as he spun at him. The resulting crack from the stone meeting the steel could have been mistaken for the sound of thunder.
That was a strength that I neglected at that moment. I wanted to know, to see how far I could go. A quiet life, one of contentment, I could never be that if I never saw for myself. The path I carved, I was set on it. And yet the moment I stopped relying on my own...
Guts' sword continued to carve through his makeshift swords. Seeing a lost cause, Zodd let go of them before the blade could reach his hands. He thrust his head forward and stabbed his horn into Guts' side, blood leaked out, mixing with his own. Their eyes met.
That was my mistake. There was a time I would have looked down on them for yielding, for halting themselves and their dreams, yet it made them all the stronger for it. It was I.
His horn fell from his head, leaving a stump protruding from out of his head about half of its original length.
I was the weak one.
Guts was moving at a speed now that Zodd figured that he had to be breaking the joints in his legs and tearing his muscles to pieces. He picked up his fallen horn and used it as a knife, finding a momentary breach in his highly erratic movements in order to stab the point of his horn into the back of his knee. The tip sunk in. As powerful as that armor was, it still had to allow for complete movement. If there was ever a chance he stood at slowing him down, it would be from an opening such as that.
Forcing his leg free, an action that caused a sickening screeching as his leg was reset, Guts turned and suddenly flung his sword straight Zodd. This time, he wasn't fast enough to catch the spinning projectile. "Grrhaa!"
The blade sank into his left shoulder. He could concentrate on healing, but it would be far too slow to stop the approaching shadow of the man. Instead, he aimed a kick which collided and sent him into the air. With a beat of his wings, Zodd flew up and with his uninhibited arm, slammed his clawed paw into his back, hearing more than a few cracks as a result.
It came as a surprise when he saw that Guts did not go down. He had grabbed onto his arm and launched himself over to where his sword was lodged in Zodd's shoulder. He could feel the blade be yanked free as blood ran freely from his newest wound. "Rrrrghhhhaaa!" with a mighty roar, Zodd made to strike him. It hit, his claws raking across his previously damaged knee.
I feel it.
Guts was lifted up from his attack and kicked off to land him on top of the wall. He kicked back off, letting the sun reflect off of his blade and into his eyes as he spun toward him.
I wonder where you are, Old Rival. I wanted you to be here. In a way, you are. That desire of mine, I yield it.
He roared as he sent a swipe toward Guts.
I never got to see it; that elusive beast that my desire manifested as.
And as he neared, the darkness of the ebony armor, the tattered and billowing cloak behind him maned around his neck as the snarling wolf-helm seemed a shape that was a welcomed difference. It looked just like...
I see it.
"Gnnnhaah!" Guts yelled as his feet hit the ground just in front of Zodd.
Using the Berserker Armor was something that he had not wanted to use, but needed to. The Beast had been barking in his ear, tempting him to just let go and relinquish control. But he knew exactly what to expect this time. As long as he focused on the feeling of his own life, his own desires, he could keep it in check - for a time. The minute he relinquished control was the moment he would feel the pain from the wounds he just sustained. And Zodd had certainly gotten more than a few in.
He could see the blood that coated his blade now and as the larger being still towered over him. A twitch of the legs, that's how it started. The knees of the goat-like legs began to buckle as Zodd took a shaky step forward. His paw reached out to him and Guts made ready to slice his arm off, but he never did. The claws were retracted and all that happened was a light pat on top of his armored head.
It rested there for only a second before the paw, like the rest of his body, fell to the floor.
The body of the beast started to smoke, emitting steam as the form began to revert back to a natural state. His build was still hulking, his hair dark to resemble the fur that once covered his build. His eyes were closed now. There was the strangest expression on his mouth. It spoke of defeated fulfillment and one that was simply at ease and now content.
A/N: The finale gets one step closer. Thank you for reading.