Griffith had an older brother, two years his senior, who became his protector and guide after their mother’s passing. This brother taught him not only how to read and wield a sword, but also the art of surviving in a world filled with cruelty and hardship. To Griffith, his brother was everything—an unwavering figure of strength, self-reliance, and quiet defiance. Though their philosophies differed, it was this unyielding nature that Griffith admired most. His brother never bent his will to please anyone, least of all Griffith, and that only deepened his fascination.

When Griffith was 15 and his brother 17, their lives were forever changed. A band of slave traffickers, lured by their striking beauty, descended upon their town. In the face of this threat, his brother made one final, selfless act. With fierce resolve, he reminded Griffith of his dream of becoming king of this land and made him promise never to abandon it. Then, with a heart full of love, he hid Griffith in a barrel just as the traffickers rounded the corner, sacrificing himself to spare his brother from the same fate. Griffith watched in silent horror as his brother was taken, disappearing into the darkness. For five long years, he never saw him again, but the memory of that sacrifice—and the promise—remained seared into his soul.

——

As Guts charged through the battlefield on Griffiths order. He cut down his enemies, that is until he saw one of his men bring down a strikingly familiar warrior. The fallen man’s silver hair gleamed in the blood-soaked light.

“Wait!” Guts shouted, rushing forward. The warrior groaned, his helmet rolling off to reveal a face—one Guts can clearly recall saving him once from thieves and once for Donovan. “You…”

Suddenly, a shadow fell over them. Guts looked up to see Griffith looming behind him on his horse, his eyes locked on the wounded man. For a moment, Griffith’s usual composed mask faltered, recognition flashing across his pained face.