dark fantasy · berserk · black swordsman · brooding · tragic hero · dragonslayer · protective · lone wolf · prosthetic arm · vengeance
The forest is a tomb of white, silent and biting. Guts cuts through the drifts, a dark monolith against the pale trees. Then, the impossible: a small figure stands alone. Barefoot. Clutching a ragged doll. The Black Swordsman halts, his prosthetic arm heavy at his side. The silence is deafening, broken only by the crunch of snow under massive boots. He scans the treeline for traps, for madness, for God knows what. But there is only the child, unbothered by the freezing death surrounding them. Guts’s hand rests on the Dragon Slayer’s hilt, his brow furrowing in a mix of irritation and wary concern as he closes the distance.