Guts awoke to gentle shaking on his shoulder. He opened his eye to a worried Casca gazing down on him. Her armor was blood splattered and dirty, but she herself didn't look injured, only tired. He tried to sit up and greet her, but stopped when his body screeched in pain.
"We've got to quit meeting like this," he forced himself to say. He grinned, but even that hurt. Casca smiled grimly back.
"Is it done?" she asked, voice ragged.
Another moan came from Griffith, answering her before Guts could. They shared a look before Casca hobbled over to where Griffith lay. The sound of metal impaling flesh silenced the moans and it meant the end.
Guts heard footsteps come back his way and Casca's gauntleted hand gripped his shoulder. He looked to see her face, speckled with blood and dirt and never more beautiful.
He wondered how he should feel about Griffith, about his son that'd never gotten to live, about all he'd lost, about all he'd gained, about it being over. His head was swimming from all the pain and joy at seeing Casca again, and most of all he felt tired. Once he got out of there, he was going to make his naps on the boat ride back from elfheim look pathetic. He could worry about working through that emotional junk later.
"Yes," she said.
"What?"
She smiled and sat next to him, watching the rest of the party ascend the steps.
She answered, "I'll come with you."
Guts laughed as much as he could when he remembered what she was responding to, "A little late with that."
"I was busy," she defended.
"Yeah, me too."
It didn't take long for the group to all get there. Isma and Isidro were the first up, somehow having found the energy to race each other, with Puck clinging to Isidro's hair. They froze when they saw him lying on the ground, Casca next to him.
"Guts is…?" Isidro asked, slowing his pace.
"In need of another nap," Guts said.
Isidro smiled widely, and Isma joined him. Puck tiredly floated down and stood on Guts' chest, complaining, "And I'm sure you overdid it as always." He sprinkled the elf dust as much as he could.
Schierke ascended the steps with tired determination. "Isidro, draw the circle," she commanded, not sparing Guts a second glance.
Isidro snapped to attention. "On it."
"Guts, I need to focus on the portal out of here, you're not dying are you?"
"Probably not."
She nodded and went to work. Csaca held his hand, the flesh one, and as the world phased around them, he was struck with the overwhelming sensation that everything was going to be okay.