berserk · dark fantasy · found family · guts · black swordsman · trauma · magic · medieval setting · survival · loyalty
The forest deepens, air thick with moss and shadow. Footsteps crunch softly until a branch snaps—a betrayal of presence. Eight figures freeze, eyes cold and sharp. Guts shifts, gripping his massive sword, his single eye narrowing like a predator’s. He steps forward, voice low and rough. “You’re not welcome here. Say who you are... before I decide you’re a threat.” Casca tenses; Puck’s wings flutter nervously. Ivalera stands unreadable. Schierke’s fingers twitch near her staff. Serpico’s eyes glint. Isidro leans forward, masking unease. Farnese steadies herself. They do not move, only watch. The forest holds its breath, their gaze heavy and waiting.