Reviews:
RonaldM40196867: No. I wouldn't want to meet anything from Berserk because that would mean Berserk is real and I don't want Berserk to be real. If we're talking Fairies from actual mythology? Still no. The Fae are as bad or worse than demons. At least with demons you know what to expect. With the fae, god only knows but it could range from you losing your soul to being lost in the woods for a hundred years while only a few minutes passed for you. Sort of like Peekaf in Berserk, really.
manu111: Their healing factor is at least partially a mental thing. Corax had scars after Istvan, and Vulkan had scars that wouldn't heal after Konrad Curze tortured him. Because those events were so traumatic for them. The Eclipse absolutely qualifies as something traumatic enough for Guts to not let himself heal from it. Otherwise, yeah, he would eventually heal. He might still heal eventually, but not until a certain thing happens that I won't spoil here.
Spartastic 4: I'll be honest, the main reason Corkus died was because I don't know how to write him post Eclipse. His whole thing was being antagonistic towards Guts and worshipping Griffith like everyone else. Also being a lecher, I suppose, but that's a secondary trait.
The 11th Legion, the Dark Hunters, was renowned for their ability to survive even the harshest battles. Not due to durability like the Dusk Raiders but because they were incredibly stubborn even amongst the ranks of the astartes. Even when backed into a corner they would keep pushing themselves well past their limits and keep fighting when other astartes would have recognized their deaths. As if they would defy both fate and death through sheer spite alone.
Somehow, it actually worked more often than not. So, whilst their Legion had more dreadnoughts than most legions and they had to have a stock of cybernetics or cloned replacement limbs, they had fairly high survival rates. And an excellent track record of successes. Thus they were oft sent to fight some of the hardest battles amongst the legions, which they accepted without complaint. This resulted in more limbs and organs needing to be replaced as even against the unspeakable horrors that dwelt amongst the stars they maintained their near mad defiance of death.
They often added extra layers of ceremite to the most vital parts of their armor to make it thicker and more durable, heedless of the weight it added, so that they could better survive the rigors of the harsh battlefields they faced. Mainly around their torso, power packs, and pauldrons.
At the moment they had been ordered to purge a planet of Orks. The problem was, these Orks were already heavily entrenched and fortified. And their War Boss was smart… for an Ork.
Legion Master Macellarius, the Astartes tasked with leading the Legion in the absence of their Primarch, was currently leading his brothers from the front lines of the battlefield. He wore a suit of Mk II Crusade Pattern Artificer Armor. In his hands was a huge Eviscerator Chainsword with adamantium teeth, at his hip was a Plasma Pistol.
He cleaved through the Ork Boys and Nobs, their blood and viscera splattering his black and silver armor, turning it red.
Around him, his brothers waged war. Beams of Volkite and Melta fire seared through the Ork hordes while Astartes rushed in and slaughtered the Orks in close quarters with chain and power weapons. The Dark Hunters could fight at any distance just as well as any legion but close quarters was where they thrived.
A bullet grazed the side of Macellarius' helmet and ricocheted off as more whizzed by or hit him at random points. He turned and saw an Ork aiming its shoota at him, firing with reckless abandon.
He quickly grabbed his plasma pistol and blew the xenos' head off with a single shot. Out of the corner of his eye he saw an ork swinging its choppa at him. He slammed his body into the xenos, knocking it back, and then swung his eviscerator with one hand, sawing the xeno in half.
He fired more shots into the horde with his pistol, swinging his eviscerator one handed at any more that got too close. Activating his vox unit he said, "Units 10 and 11 auspex readings say there's a large wave of orks closing on your positions, you're about to get overwhelmed! Close formation and brace! Units 8 and 9, give them firing support now!"
"Come on ya' stupid 'umies! You call dis a fight?! Dis ain't nothin'! I'll krump all 'a youz!" A particularly large ork shouted. It was roughly the size of a primarch, standing at ten feet tall. It had a power klaw in one hand and a massive belt fed shoota with a rotating barrel in the other. It was the Warboss. Macellarius recognized him from the reports.
The ork fired its shoota, spewing bullets across the battlefield at the astartes.
Macellarius raised his plasma pistol and fired several bolts into the massive ork as he charged across the battlefield towards it.
The Ork flinched as the plasma splashed against its armor, melting through and searing holes into the flesh underneath. It turned and fired its gun at the Legion Master.
The rounds were large caliber enough to pierce through layers of his armor. Some even punched all the way through portions that were already damaged and into his flesh underneath.
Once he was close enough, he swung his eviscerator at the ork. It stepped back, getting away with a gash across its stomach. It responded by opening its power klaw and raking the two hook-like top blades at him.
He slammed the blunt back of his eviscerator into the Ork's arm, barely managing to knock its swing off course enough to save himself from being decapitated.
The two descended into a brutal melee, trying to rip each other to pieces.
As the fight continued, something happened.
Like a wave washing over them, everyone in the eleventh legion was suddenly assailed by feelings of intense rage, pain, loss, and betrayal. Most managed to keep control but many descended into a rabid frenzy.
Macellarius was caught halfway between rabid frenzy and maintaining control. He was trying to resist, but it was incredibly difficult.
Roaring with fury loud enough to drown out the roaring motor of his eviscerator, he began hacking and slashing at the Ork Warboss, forcing it back.
"Dat's more like it! Now dis's a right propa' scrap! HAHAHA!" The Warboss laughed, having the time of his life.
He grabbed Macellarius' eviscerator with his power klaw, stepping forward to punch the Legion Master in the face hard enough to damage his helmet.
Macellarius drew his plasma pistol and fired a couple shots at point blank directly into the Warboss' gut.
The warboss grunted and snarled. Releasing the eviscerator he tried to grab Macellarius by the waist but the Legion master threw himself forward.
The Power Klaw snipped Macellarius' leg off as the space marine's eviscerator slammed into the Ork's shoulder and sawed through its arm.
The ork roared as its power klaw fell to the ground and grabbed the blunt back of Macellarius' eviscerator with its other hand. The xenos ripped the chain weapon out of the space marine's hands. "Me klaw! You cut off me klaw! Zog it, I'll take your big choppa instead, ya git!"
Macellarius, only having one leg and half lost in a haze of pure fury unlike any he had ever known, had to jump out of the way as the xenos flipped his eviscerator to hold it by the hilt and swung his own weapon at him. The sharp adamantium teeth roared past him.
He fired his plasma pistol and blasted chunks out of the Ork. The abomination swung his eviscerator again. This time Macellarius wasn't able to dodge in time and his arm was cut off. He barely had the time to pass his plasma pistol from one hand to the other. With his remaining leg he leapt forward and shoved his pistol into the bottom of the war boss' jaw.
He growled, staring the xenos in the eyes with an intense scowl underneath his helmet, and pulled the trigger.
The xeno stumbled back, now missing its lower jaw. Macellarius fired again and blew a hole through its skull. He kept shooting until the thing's head was reduced to nothing.
When its head was gone he put away his pistol, hopped over, and grabbed his eviscerator. Using it as a crutch to help himself stand without his leg, he stared out at the battle. With the Warboss dead, the Orks descended into a brawl amongst themselves to determine who was going to be the new boss.
Some charged Macellarius, now that his duel with the War Boss had been concluded. Unable to shake the pure rage coursing through him, he cut his way through them accumulating even more wounds in the process.
He succumbed to the anger. He didn't remember what happened after that. It was all a blur of blood before everything went black.
Later he woke up on his flagship as an apothecary worked on him. Everything hurt and he couldn't feel half his face or see out of his eye on that half of his face. Mercifully, he didn't feel the anger anymore either. Whatever influence had come over him had worn off.
"Ah, Legion Master, you're awake. I'd hoped to be finished before you woke up. Try not to move. Half of your face was burned off by an Ork Flamer after your helmet broke in an explosion. I'm currently doing what I can to repair the damage. I have to graft new muscles and flesh to the bone."
"Wha' haffin'..." The Legion Master slurred, his tongue mostly scorched and half of his lips burned beyond use.
"An Ork hit you from behind. You were knocked unconscious."
"No… Rage… Ou' off no where… wha' wash i'? Ork 'shyker?"
"Mm… We aren't currently certain but that hypothesis seems… unlikely. The effect seemed to be legion wide and only our legion was affected. Some of our numbers were influenced more heavily than others. You are one of the lucky ones, it seems. Many are still suffering the effects. We're trying to round all of them up but it's proving difficult. Our only saving grace is that they are able to determine friend from foe, so they don't attack us but they can't communicate beyond incoherent war cries of rage and they refuse to stop killing Orks to the point they resist being restrained. We think they will recover but at this time, we are not certain."
The Legion Master grunted in acknowledgement. It was a pain to talk like this. He was going to wait until he had a new tongue and his face was fixed.
A few hours of surgery later, he had new cloned flesh on the left half of his face and a new cybernetic eye, arm, and leg. His tongue had been cut out and replaced. He couldn't talk or move his face much until the grafts healed more.
Regardless, he was up and walking. He was currently being talked at by an Astropath, who was telling him they had been given orders to prepare for the arrival of the Bucephalis and the Emperor himself within the month. Apparently the Emperor had a lead on their primarch.
Odd that this news came the same day his legion had been afflicted by this sudden and unexpected rage. Macellarius suspected what had just happened to them may have something to do with this "lead" the Emperor had found. He just had to hope it was good news, wherever the Emperor's information led them. But the ill omen that were today's events did not inspire confidence.
In the coming days he spoke to the Librarians. They informed him that when it happened, they heard a howl of pain and rage echo through the warp and they suspected it may have been the Primarch. This inspired even less confidence. Macellarius was growing increasingly concerned that the 11th would be the first legion whose Primarch was found dead. That would be an incredibly devastating blow to their morale…
When Be'lakor fell and vanished, Guts looked at the skeletal knight. "Who are you?! What are you?! Where the hell are we?!" He growled, pointing his sword at the creature.
"I am a foe of the creatures you faced within that realm and an ally to you. That's all I'll say for now. We stand within the webway. My people used it to traverse the vast distances in the void between the stars. We are in a branch of the webway connected to the world you inhabit. It was abandoned after the birth of the First of the Five and the disaster that resulted from it. Bringing you here was the easiest way to escape the layer of the Immaterium you were trapped within. Now come, I shall take you and your companions back to the material plane where another of your group who escaped falling prey to the Eclipse awaits." The skeletal being declared, turning and riding towards the remnants of the Band of the Hawk on the back of his armored skeletal dragon.
The dragon was bigger than a horse but not near as big as the fairytales of them suggested. And it only seemed capable of biting and scratching, if the fight with Be'lakor was anything to go by. Though that could have been due to the fact it was just as dead as its rider.
Guts was still incredibly angry but this ghost had saved him and the others, so he couldn't take his rage out on it.
Guts followed after the skeletal being and looked at what was left of the Band of the Hawk. Judeau, Pippin, Gaston, Casca, and about four others… Practically nothing.
Pippin was holding Casca, who had been wrapped in a cloak. She had passed out entirely. The stress of this entire situation must have been too much for her. Guts' anger seethed within him as he looked at her and his mind kept replaying the events that had occurred in that realm of faces.
Griffith's betrayal burned more than if he were standing on a pyre being burned alive as a witch by the Holy See. Guts' severed arm and gouged eye throbbed, but he didn't even notice. The physical pain was nothing compared to the solar storm that were his emotions.
Still, somehow, he knew the wounds should have been capable of healing. But they weren't going to. The scars of this betrayal would linger on his flesh indefinitely. He wasn't consciously aware of it, but he wasn't letting them heal. Not fully. His flesh on the stump of his arm and the hole in his eye would seal, but he wouldn't regrow his hand and his eye would later turn milky white and he would be unable to see through it. It would be a constant reminder of what happened today.
It barely felt real to him. He kept thinking he would wake up at any moment and it would all turn out to be another nightmare or vision and the demons had just gotten clever in their approach to tormenting him. But try as he might, he couldn't wake up as he wasn't asleep nor meditating. This was all too real.
"Is everyone alright?" He grumbled at the survivors.
Judeau chuckled mirthlessly. "Define alright."
"Are any of you about to bleed out and die?" Guts clarified, not in the mood.
Judeau looked around at the others who were all in varying states of shock or dismay. "Well, you all heard him. Anyone about to keel over and die?"
No one spoke up.
"That's a 'no' then… We're all pretty roughed up, Guts, but I think most of us are just shell shocked by what just happened." Judeau stated.
Guts nodded. "Someone else survived. This guy is leading us to them." He then turned toward the skeletal knight.
Looking at the armored wraith, Guts looked at that sword seemingly made of behelits. If this guy wasn't a demon why did he have that? What the hell was it even? It wasn't like the crimson behelit like Griffith had.
"What is that sword?" He demanded.
"It is the Sword of Actuation. Eons ago when I was still young and naïve, I refined within myself Behelits taken from apostles to forge this blade. It was meant to forever entomb the God Hand in the swirling vortex, within the hadal depths of the Warp from which even the Four Malign Gods fear to tread. It failed. Their master can push them back out at will. Now it is merely a useful tool for cleaving portals through space or between realms. Observe." The knight swung the blade and cleaved open another portal.
The skeletal knight went through the portal.
Guts followed him through first, leading the way in case the knight was leading them into a trap of some kind.
Stepping through, Guts found himself in the field next to the lake where the Eclipse had happened. A massive swirling black vortex covered the entire lake, acting like an impenetrable barrier. His eyes were immediately drawn to Rickert.
"G-Guts!" Rickert exclaimed upon seeing him.
The others came out of the portal. "Judeau, Pippin! What… What happened? Why's everyone hurt…? Where's everyone else…?"
"They're all dead. Griffith betrayed us." Guts growled
"We'll fill you in on everything a bit later, Rickert… But where's the rest of the unit you were with?" Judeau asked.
"They are dead as well. This boy is the only one I managed to arrive in time to save, and only because he went to fetch water when the Apostles attacked. Causality is nothing if not thorough." The skeletal knight declared.
"Damn it… GOD DAMN IT!" Shouted one of the survivors, falling to his hands and knees in despair.
Suddenly Guts sensed something behind him and the skeletal knight.
They both looked and saw Zodd standing behind them.
Everyone pointed their weapons at Zodd. Everyone but Guts and the Skeletal Knight were very obviously terrified.
Guts snarled and nearly lunged at Zodd but the skeletal knight held out an arm in front of him, stopping him before he could.
"Don't think what happened settled anything."
"Of course not… But, blood thirster, and you as well godling, consider delaying this battle?"
"Delay?!" Guts growled, glaring at the knight.
"What nonsense…" Zodd huffed. He then looked at Guts and smiled maliciously. "So you survived, Child of the Anathema! Interesting! And you seem quite ready to claim my skull here and now!"
Before Guts could open his mouth to say anything the skeletal knight said, "He is not. You wish for a challenge. A proper battle, do you not? Then wait until the godling has had a chance to recover. Then he can face you at his full strength. I propose a temporary delay for a more enjoyable battle later. And you will have a better chance of defeating this daemon after recovering. You will both have your battle and it will be on better terms for you both if it does not happen now."
"Hm… Very well. We shall put this battle on hold for the sake of a better duel in the future! You have truly mad luck, Child of the Anathema. Or… I ought to say bad luck… I am looking forward to our duel… You should hurry. Once the gate vanishes, they'll all pour out. Whatever's left of them anyway…"
With that Zodd took off and flew away.
Guts growled in a mix of frustration and fury. He wanted to kill Zodd now, but he knew the Knight was right. Besides which he wasn't fully sure if he could kill Zodd even if he had both of his hands and a proper weapon rather than this flimsy butter knife of a sword he'd grabbed from a corpse. If he was going to fight Zodd he didn't want what was left of the Band of the Hawk to be at risk of getting caught in the crossfire.
"Come, I know of a place you all may rest and recover from your ordeal, safe from those that will now hunt you." The skeletal knight said, turning and carving open yet another portal.
Guts took Casca from Pippin and carried her as they all went through the portal.
This time, they ended up somewhere else Guts recognized. It was the homestead of a blacksmith he'd met shortly after he left the Band of the Hawk and was still figuring out where he wanted to go. The blacksmith's name was Godot and his daughter, Erica, had sent some logs down river and broke the sword Guts had when he left the Hawks. Godot let Guts stay with them for a while while he forged Guts an entirely new sword using the steel of the sword that broke. He'd stayed with them for two weeks before he finally moved on. They were good people. But he was confused.
"Why are we here?" Guts asked.
"Elves used to reside in these mountains. Specifically a cave nearby. Though they have left, their power lingers within it. It is a most suitable place to hide from those of the darkness." The Skeletal knight explained.
"Elves…? Why do we need to stay in some magic cave?" One of the survivors asked.
"You will see come night, should you not stay within the cave. The brand each of you bear is a curse. From the moment you were marked, you were forced into the boundary between the mortal realm and that of the dead. The 'Interstice'. Each of you stand as a beacon to those who dwell within. This is the reality you must all walk through from here on. A world invisible to the eyes of the flesh. You must stand in the interval between two worlds that while mutually significant, do not make contact with each other where you will be forever hunted and haunted. That is the destiny of those who receive the Brand of Sacrifice. Your body, and every last drop of blood in it, has been given as an offering to those of the darkness."
"So, demons are gonna try and kill us at night if we leave that cave." Judeau surmised.
The skeletal knight looked at him saying nothing.
"Destiny… Destiny. Destiny! Shut the hell up! How about you save your high and mighty crap for after we've been haunted to death, skullface! Sacrifice?! Offering?! Destiny?! Quit spoutin' out a bunch of cryptic explanations! The point is, this is war! It ain't different from any other war! The last one standin' wins! And we're damn well gonna be the last ones standin' if I have anything to say about it… We'll stay at this cave, and we'll recover. Then, we'll beat every last one of these bastards back to Hell! Leavin' us half-eaten is gonna be the end of 'em! We'll hunt and kill all those wretched monsters! And all five of those fucking demons! This is my declaration of war!" Guts declared, angrily.
The other survivors looked up at him with something approaching hope.
"Hmm… The struggler indeed…" Fog seemed to gather around the knight and he vanished without saying another word.
"I know the blacksmith who lives here. Let me talk to him and let him know we need to stay in his mine." Guts said, looking at everyone.
"You mean you've been here before?" Rickert asked.
"It was after I left. I only stayed here a short time before moving on." Guts said before walking towards the house.
Godot and Erica were surprised to see Guts again, but they were willing to let him and the other survivors stay in the mine while they recovered.
To pay Godot back for letting them stay, Rickert and Pippin took to helping out. Rickert acted as an assistant in the forge while Pippin mined ore from the cave for Godot. Some other members helped with various chores. So they weren't just layabouts leaching off of Godot's good will. They did what they could to earn their keep while they were still there.
Erica helped tend to everyone's wounds, with some Elf dust that Rickert had somehow gotten his hands on.
Then, things only got worse. When Casca woke up, she'd completely lost her memories. She didn't recognize anyone, not even Guts.
It was another dagger driven into the Primarch's heart, killing just a little bit more of whatever miniscule hope he had left. The only thing he had now was their child. That was the one singular point of light he had left. And he would be damned before he let anything happen to that last little bit of light.
It was determined he would lead some of the survivors of the Eclipse to hunt down and kill the demons, while Casca would stay here and some would stay behind to guard her.
Eventually Guts asked Godot to make him a new sword.
The blacksmith stroked his beard and looked at Guts. "So… You say you're up against demons? Inhuman things?"
Guts nodded. "Can you make something like that? Something strong enough to slay monsters without breaking?"
"Hmph… It just so happens I already have… You're big and strong, so let's see if you have what it takes to wield it." Godot stated before turning and motioning for Guts to follow him.
The old blacksmith led Guts out to his shed. Inside Guts saw all sorts of weapons and armor, and some things that seemed like experiments.
In the back leaning against the wall was a truly massive sword… No, not a sword. It was too big to be called a sword. Massive, thick, heavy, and far too rough. Indeed, it was more like a heap of raw iron.
Godot walked over to it and brushed a hand along the blade. "It's called the Dragon Slayer. A king sent out a proclamation long ago to bring him a sword that could kill a dragon. And so the Lord put me on the job. At that time, I'd gotten sick of doing work for nobles. 'Make 'em refined, make 'em elegant…' Swords are just large butcher knives after all. Tools meant for killing people. And so I forged it… As it was described. A sword that could butcher a dragon."
"I take it he didn't like it, if you still have it." Guts commented.
"I almost got hung out to dry… So I ran away from the castle town, and I've lived here quietly since. I sure was young back then. Might things. Things that could kill. That's all there was for me. But if anyone could handle this it'd still just be a hindrance. I don't like losin' track of the essence of a tool, but that's exactly what I did here. Now, it's a good reminder."
"Sounds perfect to me. Can I try it?" Guts asked.
Godo motioned to it. "Go ahead. Try and pick it up."
Guts walked over and grasped the hilt of the sword. He lifted it with one hand without too much trouble. It was far heavier than anything he'd ever held before. In fact, by his estimates, it was heavier than mere iron or steel should have been.
"What's this thing made of? It's too heavy to be iron." Guts asked.
"A special alloy whose recipe has been passed down in my family for generations. It's called Adamant and it's said to be indestructible. But it's heavier than steel. A lot of knights want indestructible weapons or armor, but don't like the weight. It's also expensive and harder to make than steel. So I don't often use it in any of my work. When I do, I only mix small amounts of it in with normal steel and only in my finest pieces. That right there is pure adamant. So it's strong enough to kill a dragon, if there were any dragons." Godot explained.
"Mind if I give it a couple swings outside?"
"Go ahead. It's not like you can scratch it let alone chip the edge. You're big but I'll be damn impressed if you can swing it around with only one hand."
Guts followed Godot back outside and stepped away from the shed. He swung the blade a couple of times. He started going through some motions with it.
Godot stroked his beard while he watched Guts swing the massive blade. Guts finished going through his forms and held the blade up. "I like it. It's a bit short, I'm used to longer blades, but I can adapt." The weapon was about seven feet long, including the handle. Guts was used to blades as long as he was tall.
Godot chuckled. "Short… You know… Considering you're probably the only one who can use it, and you say you need a weapon to kill monsters, I'm willing to try and scale it up to your proportions. But you'll need to get me the ores I need to make the adamant and I'll need your help reforging it. You sure you'll still be able to hold it if we make it so big?"
Guts nodded. "I should be able to… Tell me what you'll need."
So Guts went out and mined ore from Godot's mine. The rest he had to gather from a few separate caves elsewhere in the mountains. Godot knew where the caves were, and the fact they were within a day's travel was why he'd chosen this spot. Guts had to borrow the Dragon Slayer in its current form to kill the demons that haunted him while he gathered the ores he needed.
Godot had a special blast furnace for the process. Apparently it had been in his family for hundreds of years. It was unlike anything Guts had ever seen before. It was supposedly the only thing that could withstand the levels of heat required to make Adamant in the first place let alone get the resulting material hot enough to properly forge it. Godot had no idea how it worked or how to do anything beyond basic maintenance, the only thing he really knew was how to use it. So if it ever broke down no one in the world would ever be able to make Adamant again.
The process of refining the metals to remove any impurities so the adamant wouldn't be tainted was a long and tedious process in and of itself. But it was important. Even more tediously, the refinery part of the furnace could only really produce small quantities of the material at a time. By the end of the whole process, however, they had all the Adamant they needed and some extra left over because of how much raw resources Guts had gathered.
Then came the truly difficult part. Reforging the blade. The heat radiating from the thing was insane. Erica and Rickert had to splash buckets of water on Godot to prevent him from getting too hot just from being close enough to hammer the thing. Guts didn't have the same problem. He was able to hammer the thing without overheating, so long as he didn't touch the insanely hot metal. And it couldn't be sharpened while it was cold. It had to be at forging temperature and be sharpened with files and honing rods made of cold adamant. They had to keep dunking the files and honing rods in water to keep them from heating up from being in contact with the thing.
It took a solid month for the Dragon Slayer to be finished.
By the end of it, it had been resized specifically for Guts.
The weight was so much that even Pippin, the strongest one in their group other than Guts himself, had trouble lifting it on his own while holding it by the flat of the blade.
It was a ten foot long monstrosity of a weapon. Other than that, it looked almost exactly the same as it had before they reforged it. It had close to the same proportions, just scaled up.
With that done, the preparations were nearly complete.
Rickert helped guts put his new armor on. It was half an inch thick plates of blackened steel. His armor had no adamant mixed in as it really didn't need it. Everyone else's armor did, just for a little added toughness. And their armor was blackened just like Guts'. It seemed black was the color of their new group. They weren't the Band of the Hawk anymore. They hadn't settled on a new name for themselves yet, however.
"You can use knives, Guts?"
"Yup he can. I taught him the ropes a long time ago. Don't know why you're picking them back up. I thought throwing knives wasn't your style?" Judeau asked, tossing one of his own knives into the air and catching it.
"Might end up needing 'em." Guts commented. When his armor was situated, he stood up. "There."
"Sayyy… Why is you guys' clothes and armor all black?" Erica asked.
"Because we'll be fighting in lots of dark places. They are in the darkness." Guts told her.
Gaston sighed. "Ain't that the truth… Can't even go for a damn walk at night to clear your head after a nightmare without things crawling out to try and kill ya…"
"Yup… We're gonna start to miss that dusty old cave once we're on the road. We'll have to learn how to sleep during the day so we can stay awake and fight all night." Judeau commented.
"You can leave most of that to me. I'm the one who needs the least sleep." Guts stated.
"Hey, Guts, give me your left arm." Rickert requested.
"Huh?" Guts asked. He held out his stump and Rickert started affixing something to it. A metal prosthetic arm, he realized.
"An artificial arm, huh? It's nice." Guts stated, looking at it.
"I made it from stuff in Master Godot's storehouse. It's magnetized so you can grip a sword too." Rickert explained, holding a repeating crossbow.
"I helped tooooo." Erica added.
"Here, there's this too… A little reason why it's so nice." Rickert stated.
"Yuuup!" Erica agreed, mischievously.
"Let's see… Face that rock and point the hand at it." Rickert told him, pointing to a boulder outside.
Guts did so.
"Now pull that metal part on this side."
Guts gripped the part he thought Rickert was talking about.
"Right, that…"
Guts paused as Godot stepped into the door frame. "Ahh! There you are. Your friends are done cleaning up the cave. You done gettin' ready?"
""WAAAAH!"" Rickert and Erika shouted in a panic.
"Godot!" Guts exclaimed, pointing his arm up and releasing his grasp on the mechanism. He looked down at Rickert and Erica who both looked incredibly relieved that a potential disaster had just been averted.
"Good grief! Goin' through a man's stock in trade and takin' whatever you want. This is why they say mercenaries ain't no better than thieves." Godot grumbled.
"Hey! At least we got you more ore than what we're taking in metal. And we paid you what coin we had." Judeau objected.
"I owe you a lot." Guts told the old man gratefully.
"Heck, I'll just make him work off the rest of what you owe me." Godot stated pointing at Rickert.
The old man then looked at the massive blade hanging on Guts' back. Leather hadn't been strong enough, so they had to make a holster for it out of steel chains with a hook to connect to a loop on the base of the sword. "How's the Dragon Slayer treatin' ya?"
Guts drew the truly massive blade and examined it. "Couldn't ask for a better weapon."
"Seriously. I've seen him cut whole trees down in a single swing with that monster. One handed!" Judeau commented.
Godot nodded in satisfaction. "Good. Then it should slay a dragon just fine. Or a demon, since that's what you say you're hunting. Be careful with it. I'm not worried about the sword itself, obviously. It's indestructible, or at least so close to it that the difference is meaningless. Just don't go swinging it around recklessly and end up destroying anything you don't mean to. That thing could probably bust down castle walls if you aren't careful with it."
Guts nodded. "I'll be careful."
Then his neck started to sting and he heard something moving around outside. Both Judeau and Gaston flinched, their brands stinging them as well.
"What's the matter?" Godot asked.
"Found you…" A voice stated.
Everyone looked and saw a figure standing in the doorway.
"Left overs. Not good." An ugly, barely human figure grumbled.
"And who're you?" Godot demanded.
Gaston grabbed the blacksmith by the shoulder and Guts blocked his path with his new arm. "Wait!" Guts exclaimed. "He's our guest."
"I followed the scent of evil… Lost your trail near the sight of the Eclipse, but I found it again… My nose is really good." The thing stated.
Elsewhere, the rest of the survivor's brands started stinging.
"AAAAHHH!" Casca started screaming inside the mine.
Pippin grabbed his war pick. "Get ready. Protect Casca." He ordered the others. He then marched to the entrance of the mine to personally stand guard. When Guts wasn't around, he was their first line of defense, being their second strongest member.
The creature in the doorway started growing, transforming into a monster.
"Sacrifice… Sacrifice…"
"Owahhhh the hell?!" Godot exclaimed in horror.
"Guts! It's…!" Rickert exclaimed as Erica clung to him, screaming in fear.
"EVERYBODY STAY BACK! JUDEAU, GASTON, PROTECT THEM!" Guts ordered
A wicked grin then spread across his face as the urge to kill seared through him. He felt his hearts beating hard in his chest. "My lucky day… The first one…" He muttered to himself. With an animalistic roar of rage and bloodlust, he charged forwards and impaled the thing through the chest with his blade. He kept charging, forcing it outside and away from the house.
Only one it was far enough away did he come to a sudden stop and let the monster's momentum carry it off his blade.
Guts adjusted his grip on the Dragon Slayer. He liked this thing. He really liked this thing.
"Wh-What in damnation… is… is…?!" Godot shouted behind him.
"Wild game." Guts called back.
"Didn't he tell you before? We hunt demons." Judeau stated, holding his own sword at the ready. "What else could it be, but a demon?"
"It's the first in our hunt." Guts said with an expression full of nothing but malice and sadism for the malignant being on the ground in front of him.
"Just stay behind us and let Commander Guts deal with this." Gaston told them.
As the monster tried to get back up, Guts stabbed the Dragon Slayer into the ground and pointed his arm at it. "Pull the metal part at the base you said?" Guts called back to Rickert.
Not waiting for a response, Guts did so. The front of the hand fell down revealing a massive barrel. Then there was a boom as the built in cannon fired. The cannonball ripped through the thing's larger head, making it stumble back but not killing it.
Guts felt the recoil in his arm and shoulder. A normal person would have their shoulder knocked out of socket or worse, but he was able to take it in stride.
Seeing the thing wasn't dead, Guts grabbed the Dragon Slayer and proceeded to cut it in half from head to crotch.
A few moments later a portal emerged and a mass of flesh and merged bodies emerged to drag the demon back to hell where it belonged.
Guts looked back at Godot. "Told ya I needed a weapon fit to kill monsters."
"That you did…" Godot nodded, staring at the spot where the corpse used to be in shock.
Gaston and Judeau put their blades away.
"Damn… I thought this place was supposed to be impossible for demons to find." Judeau commented.
"Just the cave, apparently." Guts responded, looking at the blood covering his blade.
"Uh… Commander? If… If that's the case, is it safe to leave Casca here? Even if Pippin stays behind to guard her, I'm not sure it's a good idea to leave her here where you won't be here to help if another demon manages to track the two of them." Gaston asked.
Guts sighed. He didn't like it. He didn't want to bring Casca along for this and put her in danger by taking her away from the cave. But he saw Gaston's point. It may have been just as dangerous to leave her here…
"Let's head back to the cave. We'll discuss it as a group." Guts stated.
I wanted to do an Emperor POV but I couldn't quite figure out how to make it work.
Anyway, I decided to say Casca lost her memories. The events of the Eclipse were traumatic enough for it even without the rape. Difference is, she's not afraid of letting Guts touch her since that particular event didn't happen. Now the biggest thing is whether or not Guts will take a pregnant woman on a hunt for demons or if he'll decide to risk leaving her there under guard. Obviously, they won't but the fact a demon tracked them should logically raise concerns about the pros and cons. But I might have the whole pregnancy progress faster than normal. So, we'll see what happens.
So the Dragon Slayer is made from Adamantium. The name for which degraded to Adamant over the years. And Godot has a special furnace/forge that's been in his family for generations so he can make adamantium stuff. All left over tech and knowledge from when the planet was a human colony during the Dark Age of Technology. And so the Dragon Slayer's been upscaled to fit a 10' 9" primarch rather than a normal human. Talk about a giant sword. The only other person in the galaxy who could possibly use it effectively would be Vulkan. Guess that makes Guts the second strongest primarch in terms of raw physical strength. Vulkan is still stronger than him, though not by nearly as wide a margin as the other primarchs.