238 A Journey of Hundred of Thousands years
Immediately the youth was back at his practice, the words, seemingly now, absent from his mind.
And so…
What was bound to happen, happened.
Gambino, Grifith, Casca…
And the Eclipse…And the Horror of the Branded…
And as Guts plunged in endless slaughter, laughing in the mind of, the turmoil madness, the evil of existence has brought upon him.
Indulging in his own misery and quelling his deep pain in the blood of Apostle after another, abandoning everything he once held dear.
As he lived in the vile perverted dystopia that his own mind had become.
The Darkness in his heart rousing from the depths of his being and unleashed on the rest of an existence that has long rejected him, branded him and sacrificed him.
Revenge tainted his heart.
Darkness corrupted his broken being.
Yet, somehow…
He who felt unworthy of surviving, still held on.
For Whatever reason he still advanced, branded, tortured, and destitute.
Leaving a trail of blood in his wake.
Only for one day, after he met a little fairy, to remember someone, a being he left behind.
'Casca…'
His heart became heavy, unbearable, when he thought about it.
Nevertheless, he couldn't continue….Like that…
…He knew it
And as he made it back…
….To only find a broken shell of the woman he loved.
….Something broke inside of him.
He was forced to face it…
…The Reality of it all
The Ugliness of it all.
And this cowardliness of his.
At that time…
He knelt…
And the next moment…
The world once again rewound to the time he was still training with Gambino.
Only know….After a lifetime, he looked in the air.
Founding no one. Yet faintly feeling a gaze overlooking his being from above.
As he was still practicing with Gambino he spoke slightly into the air:
"Thanks."
There was no overexcitement.
No Zeal.
No Joy.
He was faraway from his previous joyous self.
And the words of the Emperor he took a challenge then.
Felt like the premonition of endless suffering.
But even that….Didn't stop him.
He simply continued…
The Trail of Blood that he started.
Paved by his own foremost.
Maybe he was going crazy.
Maybe he was doing out of a once childish sense of stubbornness.
Against Fate.
Against the World Itself.
Against the Emperor he felt his favor was wasted on.
He simply…Shut his mouth.
And Marched forward.
That time…It would be different.
Guts action were different.
Yet there was one thing that stayed the same.
The Idea Of Evil…Remained unchanged.
It favored those who it favored.
But it still felt how the cycle of causality was messed with. And how time regressed impassively.
It didn't dare to challenge the bearer of that Godly power.
But it still…targeted his own favored.
Only, Marek didn't help Guts in any other way. While The Idea of Evil was much more generous with his own.
The Second life….Was much more cruel.
Much more bloodied.
And much more horrendous.
It felt like Guts was branded from birth.
Attracting the wrath of existence itself.
Guts had an idea of what was happening. But was unmoved. He wasn't shameless enough to ask for help.
The only thing he needed. Was to be given a chance.
He needed a ray of hope.
So that he could pierce through.
The Second Life, moved by the wheels of causality.
Made Guts end up…At the same spot….
On the Eclipse.
Watching his loved one being raped once again.
Was it any easier watching it a second time?
Maybe you could ask the red eyed, one armed Guts….
The More hope one holds, the more dauntless, the more horrid the realization, that everything was for naught.
Even if Guts…Was Stronger, was smarter, was wiser and knew of the Future.
It was only worse.
Finally his heart burning with endless misery and pain…He slaughtered his way out of the Eclipse.
Helping some few of his comrades….out of it.
Haha….
But just what was it that he saved?
Hollow tusks…Lifeless men who would rather be dead.
Branded by the curse of suffering and misery.
Would their life be better than their death?
The Answer this question. Guts knew it best.
Was his life better than his own death…?
….
Just what did he accomplish in this life?
Looking at the inconscient Casca, carrying the spawn of the devil.
He felt the somber urge to kill her and everyone, so he could end it all.
"Haha….I am even more of a bastard than I was before."
He once again, in despair knelt. He shut his eyes.
The World once again, rewound.
When he opened his eyes again. He saw Gambino's face.
And sighed deeply.
He shut his eyes for a while….
…Before determination grew in his heart once more.
…..He marched…Marched and marched….
Unknowingly….He marched for thousands years.
Unknowingly….He saw the worst of humanity. He saw the worst of this world.
And he saw through the secret of everything, as he bloodied his path a little more and endured the pain of loss, a little more.
Was it any easy with time…?
Hehe….
…Never…
He was already someone who has gone to the very edge of insanity and came back.
He experienced every emotion….But he never could escape the despair at the day of Eclipse.
Yet every time…He would grith his teeth and advance….
A Bigger trail of blood on his path….But…This blood…
Was it his, or was it other's?
Hundred of Thousand years later….
At the day of the eclipse….
A Frighteningly powerful man… stood atop of the vanquished abyss…
The Souls of the fallen letting their last delirious screech.
The Blood of the Apostles filling the world of the Eclipse to the brim.
The God hands corpses was still cold…Not a glimmer of their haughty arrogance remaining.
In their distorted faces one could see deep and endless fear.
The God Hands have indeed, under the endless grinding…The Interminable determination.
And endless eternal struggle….Met their unlikely doom. Under the feet of the man here they lay on the deepest parts of the degenerating abyss.
His Dragon Slayer lodged on the heart of…
…Femto.
He looked at the indifferent gaze…of his closest and his farthest.
The man he loved and hated the most. At his last moment, in the last struggle…
The Idea of Evil gave Griffith the memory of a Hundred of Thousands of Years of endless confrontation.
Of endless victories and defeats.
But no one was as perfect, as mind numbly perfect at this one.
"I…"
His feeble hand clutched the Dragon Slayer lodged on his heart. His hoarse yet sonorous voice resounded:
"I am sorry."
Yet Guts, under the gaze of his safe companions, responded:
"I am sorry for you too."
Griffith eyes widened. At that time….In the end of it all…The eyes of Guts became clearer and clearer. They were devoid of any animosity; only stone cold calm could be reflected in them:
"The Choice you made."
"To sacrifice something…For another thing…"
"To succumb to evil for ambition."
"The Choice of humanity and the Will of Evil."
"To use Evil to create hope."
"Compromise that is…"
"Is inherent to your condition, Griffith."
"You succumbed to it."
"Others may to."
And as he looked at dying white haired youth who he once respected and revered.
Who he once hated and despised.
Who he once envied and pursued.
He, who hurt him more than anyone else.
And He, who he hurt more than anyone else.
"Compromise is the choice of the weak."
And as he took of his Dragon Slayer from his pierced chest.
"And me too…"
He looked at the weeping comrades wailing at the dying Griffith.
"The Man who couldn't you stop you from taking this path. No matter how much I tried."
"….Had to compromise."
"And kill you."
Griffith eyes widened:
"You-"
Guts eyes were more and more faint as he walked out of the oceans of Apostle corpses.
His eyes brimming with Millenia old calm….
Finally as he walked out….
As after finally destroying the Eclipse…After destroying the nightmare plaguing him.
He stood up and looked at the sky.
Where he felt a pair of eyes watching over his journey….For all those years.
This presence…He never talked to….He never addressed it. And never questioned it.
At that time.
For the first itme, from the bottom of his heart, he laughed:
"You are right, your majesty. My life really isn't easy!"
As he spoke, a figure appeared from the void. The previous solemn eyes, had layers upon layers of complexity.
A Mighty voice resounded in response:
"Is it your final answer?"
"Are you satisfied with it?"
The Branded Swordsman, simply sat on the ground. His eyes a little foggy.
How many things did he sacrifice. How many things did he plot? And how many part of himself did he have to burn?
Just so he could make it to this step?
To the question….Was it worth it?
The Response would be: Yes.
Every step of the way. Every drop of blood spilled.
Made him who he was today.
But to the question is he satisfied with the outcome?
"No. I am not satisfied."
He closed his tired eyes as he said softly:
"It seems I lost after all, your majesty."
