Berserk.manga

Griffith.

“Puck,” he said.

He walked into the darkening woods, the brand on his neck throbbing a dull, rhythmic ache. Behind him, the children’s sobs faded. Ahead, the trees grew twisted, their bark weeping sap like amber tears.

The countess rose, her form beginning to twist, flesh bubbling into chitin. “I think you’ll hesitate. And hesitation is a wound I can open.”

They found the church first.

Guts grunted, adjusting the cannon-arm’s weight. Thinking about Griffith was like picking at a wound that would never close. It bled philosophy and rage in equal measure.