The trees stretched high in the sky, full of thick leaves that were all green and healthy. Lush plantlife went on as far as the eye could see in the forest. The powerful, but calming, scent of nature was enough to put one's mind at ease. And despite how tall the trees were, the sun was able to shine bright and unabated, warming the earth and all the creatures standing on it. Nothing like the forests in Midland, where the heavy foliage made every day feel like an endless night.
No, in Elfhelm the forest felt safe. Soothing. Like one could rest their eyes out in the open and not worry about whether they would wake up or not. And rest was exactly what Guts did, his back against one of the many trees the forest offered. His armor was still on, the plates clacked each time he shifted his body. The sound of a nearby waterfall deeper into the forest only accentuated the tranquility he felt. It was strange, he spent so many years barely sleeping, and always pushing himself to his physical limit. He even grew accustomed to it, rarely even wanting to sleep or being unable to calm himself down enough to get to rest.
And now... now that his quest was finally over, after the nightmarish struggle he went through, it was hard not to drift off to sleep. As though his body wanted to play catch up on all the nights he was forced to battle until dawn. Guts found it difficult to keep his eye open regularly, his entire body felt like it weighed a ton. He even found it difficult to hold his sword at times, the massive hunk of metal shook in his arms more times than he would care to admit. The truth would whisper itself in the back of his mind, but he never wanted to admit it.
"I'm not who I was..." the words burned his brain. Where just a year ago he was a powerful warrior, able to take on creatures that slaughtered other humans like cattle, now he felt himself unwinding. Like a string from an old shirt. He was sure the unraveling began as soon as he put on that accursed armor. The cursed suit that made a habit of tearing into his flesh, and sending him into a violent killing spree when it got the chance.
Ever since he began to wear it, Guts felt himself whither slowly. Bit by bit, like an hourglass reaching the last few pieces of sand. His hands became shaky, his vision faded on occasion, food was increasingly difficult to taste. It was like a parasite was draining him of his senses. Slowly, but surely, it was eating him alive.
Guts perked up when he heard a strange sound behind him. He turned his head to see Isma, the strange little girl they picked up on their journey to Elfhelm. She was an odd one, to put it lightly. The last survivor of a village annihilated by the Sea God, a powerful monster that murdered all that it came across in the ocean, Isma was taken in by the group when Isidro insisted they protect her. Guts could tell it was because Isidro had a crush on her, but it didn't matter in the end. What did matter was what the girl's origins were.
She was a marrow, or at least half of one. Her father was a human who fell in love with a marrow in his youth. Isma was born of their union, and left to be raised by her father. Her mother went with the rest of their kind to keep the Sea God imprisoned. Eventually, her father died and she was left alone on the island. Despite everything she went through, the girl remained very chipper and excitable.
Isma sang a song to herself as she walked through the forest, holding a small, metal pail. Guts watched as she disappeared into the brush, content to simply rest against the tree he laid against. He wanted to move, to get up and stretch his legs, but every muscle was lead. Once again, the weight against his eye returned as his felt the lid drift down. Sleep threatened to pull him into its warm embrace once again.
At least until Guts heard rapid footsteps that grew louder every second. Guts snapped his head in the direction of the noise, and saw Isma coming towards him. Guts sighed as he rose to his feet. Every bone cracked, and the man could have sworn he was about to topple over as his vision grew blurry. He managed to compose himself in time for Isma to arrive, she still held the little pail in her hands.
"Hey, Mr. Guts!" Isma began excitedly. Her smile was bright, as was her eyes. Despite her hair being a messy mop on her head, it was surprisingly clean. The simple village clothes she wore were well maintained, but a few holes made themselves clear on her pant legs. "Me and a few of the others from the mage school are gonna catch frogs at the waterfall! You want to come watch?"
"No," Guts said simply, and shook his head. He found it difficult to even gather the energy to respond to her. Just muttering that one word felt more exhausting than when he killed a hundred men in a night. He tried to raise himself up, get to his feet, but the heaviness of his body nearly brought him back down. Guts took another look at Isma and the realization sank in, "Where's Isidro?"
"Him and Roderick are talking about boats and stuff," Isma said simply, a frown clear on her face. "I already asked him and he just blew it off. Said he didn't want to be around a bunch of sniveling mages or something like that."
"Sounds like him," Guts grunted. He heaved a heavy sigh as he pushed his way past the little girl. While careful not to knock her to the ground, he made it clear the gesture was an end to the conversation. Isma walked off back towards the waterfall, but not before muttering something about Guts being an old dummy. The crunch of leaves and twigs filled his ears, but dissipated as the young girl vanished into the forest.
"My," a light and warm voice said, honey dripping from every word, "You certainly have a way of getting your point across."
The armor clad warrior turned to see a flower clad woman, her dress made of beautiful petals. Her ears were long, far longer than any human. Face was young and vibrant, almost sculpted to be perfection. The entire air around her became much more comfortable to be in, as though her presence alone calmed the nerves and cleared the mind. It was Danaan, or the Flowerstorm Queen, depending on who was asked. The ruler of the elves on the island, and the one that guided Guts and his party at the last hurdle of their quest.
"What are you doing here?" Guts asked, his eyebrow raised as he leaned back against a tree. His mind gnawed at the reasons why she would be there. The mere possibility that something bad happened to Casca caused his heart to race. His fist clenched so tight it shook. Any exhaustion he felt vanished as fast as lightning.
"Relax, dear child," Danaan said as she raised one of her slender hands, "I merely wanted to talk. You and your friends sought refuge in my home, so I thought it only fair to get to know you all."
Guts huffed at the suggestion. He tried to push his way past the Elven Queen, but the heavy weight of his fatigue tumbled through him like an avalanche. Before he could even put a foot forward, Guts fell against a tree and slid down to the ground. His breathing became heavy, and he needed to fight the urge to go into a coughing fit.
"That armor," Danaan said, her voice was bittersweet as she placed a hand on Guts' shoulder, "I swear, it's more poison than protection." She moved a hand onto Guts' forward, and felt the searing heat of Hellfire as she hummed a sad song to herself. "You're sick. You need to rest."
"I can't-" Guts choked out before violent coughs wracked his system. Each one made his chest feel like it was about to explode. His throat torn to pieces as each tremor pulsed through. Blood dripped from his lips as his episode passed through. Guts cursed himself for letting her see him like this. After so many years of pushing himself through any pain, he couldn't do a thing to keep himself from falling apart once he was safe. The irony almost made him laugh.
"Listen, dear child," Danaan began as she waved her staff over Guts. He wasn't sure what she was doing, but the pain dissipated slowly as they talked, "there are more dangers to that armor than merely the Berserker's Rage. If it is not watched closely, it will drain you of life. You need to remove it at once."
"No!" Guts barked out. He forced himself back to his feet, but shook like a leaf as he did so. Coughs cut his throat like glass shards as he tried to speak. Blood continued to pour from his mouth as he held onto the tree for support. "When he comes, I'll need it."
"'He' is the one that Branded you, I assume?" Danaan asked, her arms crossed over her chest like an annoyed mother. Despite his protests, Danaan grabbed the gauntlet to his armor and pulled it clean off of his arm. Guts' scarred, pale flesh was exposed to the sun as the Elf Queen removed his armor piece by piece. Had he the strength to move, he would have fought tooth and nail to keep his suit on, but he was far too tired. "Men always think with their swords before their own heads..."
"Why are you here...?" Guts demanded weakly, his eyes tried to stay open but they would drift down every so often that it was difficult not to fall asleep once again. Even with the armor off, he didn't feel any better. If anything, he felt cold without it. Like he was thrown naked into a blizzard.
"Your companions," Danaan answered simply, a small smile on her face. "They worry about you, the hiding, the introverted behavior," she stopped as Guts fell into another coughing fit. Her heart sank with every graveled choke. With every spatter of blood that hit the grass. "They simply want to know why you don't wish to be with your woman."
"Casca..." Guts said, almost vomiting the word. She didn't need to see him like that. They reconciled on the beach, and he made his decision. He needed to leave before anything else happened to them. Before Griffith arrived and burned them all alive. If he left, they would be safe.
"I saw her mind during the ritual," Danaan explained as she waved her staff once again. Guts felt a soft warmth build inside him that made the agonizing pain go numb. It wasn't perfect, but he was given salvation for a brief moment. "I saw your tragedy. How it must have been to lose everyon-"
"Stop," Guts hissed, his fingers balled themselves into the best attempt at a fist he could make with his numb arm. Even after everything else he went through, those unimaginable images scalded the worst. Every time his mind flashed back to it, it was like someone poured boiling water over him. "Just stop."
"I understand," Danaan nodded slowly as she spoke, "that event is not to be spoken of lightly. And I know it made you do terrible things." The stink of insanity was within the man, it burned her nose just to be near him. To survive something like the Eclipse would mean becoming a creature not unlike the demons, at least in terms of ferocity.
"It didn't make me do anything," Guts said, his voice as cold as a glacier, "I was evil before I even knew demons existed." In his dazed state, he saw it again. That monster. The beast that haunted him. The red eyed abomination of a hound that followed his every step. Its jaws were filled with teeth as sharp as razors, each one ready to rip prey to ribbons. The pitch black fur made it sink into the shadows, only exposed by the glowing eyes that pierced Guts' soul.
"You believe you are evil?" Danaan asked, her brow raised in curiosity. "My, that is certainly not how your companions describe you," she had to put her hand to her mouth to hide the small smile that formed, "many of them have nothing but kind words."
"Because they don't know," Guts said as he slowly shook his head, "or they don't want to remember. Puck knows. He saw me when I was..." Guts went still, his throat locked as he struggled to find any word to piece together a sentence, "not well."
"Funny way to say you were a bloodthirsty lunatic," the Beast growled out, its voice warped and poisonous. Just hearing that terrible creature again made Guts break in a cold sweat. It was supposed to be gone. It said it was gone. "The bug saw everything. You need to kill him before he talks. Before they all know what you really are..."
"Shut up," Guts said, his eyes locked completely on the Beast. It was back, and he was too weak to make it go away. He completely forgot about Danaan's existence as the Beast drew closer to him. It stepped out from the shadows, fangs bared and ready to go for his throat.
"Why not kill them all?" the Beast asked as it inched closer to Danaan. Guts whimpered as he tried to raise a single limb. Each one felt like jelly, and he couldn't do a thing to stop the monstrous dog. It reeked of blood. A thick, copper odor drowned his senses and made him lightheaded. He was used to blood, even gallons of it, but the Beast was on a completely different level. "Griffith will just make them suffer. You can put them down quick. One swing of that sword and they're gone."
"I don't want to talk to you," Guts said as he closed his eyes tight. The venomous words slithered into his mind. Images of Elfhelm in flames crept up, of his companions torn to pieces, of Casca and Farnese being raped before they were devoured alive, of Isidro and Serpico being tortured and dismembered, Schrieke being beheaded, each one made his stomach crawl.
"Guts..." Danaan said sadly as she watched the man converse by himself. The way his eyes glazed over made it clear he was completely separated from reality. Too busy talking to his dog to even acknowledge Danaan.
"You're a killer," the Beast said, its body slowly grew larger as they spoke. In mere seconds it was a massive form that stared down at Guts. It could swallow him whole, if it chose. He wouldn't even be able to fight back, just be picked up and shredded by those razor fangs. Each one was the length of his arm. "You've known for so long that this is what you are."
"I said shut up!" Guts screamed, finally able to force himself to his feet. He reached for the Dragon Slayer, the massive slab of iron he called his sword. His arms wobbled, and his legs nearly crumbled, as the weight of the blade tried to send him to the ground. With all of his strength, he swung the sword at the Beast.
The blade went through the creature like water, and it tore through the trunk of the tree that the Beast stood in front of. The sword buried deep into it, and split the tree in two. The top half collapsed to the ground. Birds, bees, and elves all flew out in a panic as they realized their home was destroyed.
Guts felt an icy shock go up his spine as he realized what he did. He turned his head to Danaan, who watched quietly as the man came back to sanity. At least temporarily. It was so long since the Beast made him have an episode like that. Ever since he tried to hurt Casca, all that time ago. Sure, the damn thing had its fun with the Berserker armor, but that thing played with his brain even before that.
"You nearly fell over yourself swinging that thing," the Beast said, that voice bit at Guts' eardrums as he froze as solid as a statue. "You really are dying."
"Dying...?" Guts whispered to himself. He was dying? No... He knew it was true. Every day was harder than the last. Harder to stay awake, to stop coughing, to swing his sword, to even keep himself on his feet. Deep down, he felt it. Like he was rotting on the inside.
"The Berserker Armor," Danaan said, bitterness heavy on her tongue, "when the user goes too long without battle, it begins to poison them. Combat will delay the process, but it is impossible to fully stop once it has begun." Why he would be using such a terrible device was beyond her, but it was clear the armor already began waste away his life.
"Oh," Guts huffed to himself, forced to lean against his sword to keep himself steady. The thought sobered him. It was strange to think about. He spent his entire life trying not to die, but now he could do nothing to stop it. In a strange way, he felt relief. Like a weight was lifted from his shoulders.
"You want to die, don't you?" Danaan asked, her voice warm and welcoming. "To end your suffering and perdition." Danaan waved a hand in the air, and an image of his sword dug straight into the earth appeared. The handle was high in the air, the blade buried into the dirt. Flowers were placed in front of the sword, a sunset bounced off and made a bright orange glow for all to see.
"I can't," Guts said simply as he hobbled over to the pile of metal that was his armor. Piece by piece, he put it back on. Despite his condition, Guts knew what he had to do. "Not yet."
"Your last days should be with your companions," Danaan said as she walked in front of him. Her brow was furrowed, and a clear frown was on her face. "Vengeance has only brought you agony and sorrow. Why not spend what time you have left to be with your family?"
"That's who I'm doing this for," Guts barked out as he scowled. He pushed his way past the Elf Queen, who merely sighed before she vanished deep within the forest. Guts was finally alone again as he pushed onward. The thought of another journey alone made him hesitant, but he pushed forward all the more. If he was going to die, he wanted to make sure he ended everything. They would never be safe until it was finished.
"Get to the beach," Guts thought to himself, "get to the beach and get to the ship." He wasn't exactly a sailor, but he was able to pick up a trick or two by watching Roderick and the crew work. Guts was confident he could at least make it back to Midland by himself. It didn't need to be graceful, or even be in working condition to come back. It was a one way trip, and he knew it.
"Casca..." his thoughts were filled with her. Her name, how she looked in that dress at the banquet, how incredible she was at combat, how lovely she looked when she tried to stop him from leaving the Hawks. Every memory of her spurred him forward. But as he continued, one thought popped into his mind that took his attention away completely.
"I wonder if we would've had a happy family..."
