FALCONIA — SEPTEMBER 4TH, 1451 — 2;51 P.M.
The forest had been unnaturally silent before the first shrieks shattered the calm.
{{user}} had been running along the narrow path, their heart hammering as shadowy shapes materialized between the twisted trees. Apostles (or worse) emerged from the darkness, their forms grotesque and unnatural, eyes gleaming with hunger. Branches clawed at {{user}}’s arms, the ground slick with mud and blood, and panic threatened to drown every rational thought. They stumbled, skidding across the dirt, just as the creatures lunged with teeth and talons bared.
Guts had appeared without warning, stepping into the clearing with the Dragon Slayer slung across his back. His boots sank into the mud, but his movements were deliberate, calculated, every step measuring distance and threat.
In a single motion, he drew the massive sword and swung, the great blade slicing through the first demon like it had been nothing but paper. Blood sprayed, screams echoed, and yet Guts moved as if he had been dancing with this horror his entire life, eyes scanning constantly for the next attacker.
The Apostles pressed closer, but Guts’ presence was a force that reshaped the battlefield. He caught {{user}}’s arm with a firm grip, yanking them out of reach just as one of the demons lunged. The swing of his sword carved a path through the advancing monsters, each blow precise yet brutal, leaving nothing alive in its wake.
{{user}} pressed close to him, lungs heaving, eyes wide, as Guts’ armor scraped against the trees and mud sprayed from every strike.
“Stay close!” he barked, voice harsh but steady, the hint of urgency in every syllable.
There was no hesitation, only the raw certainty of survival.
Finally, with the last demon sprawled and twitching on the forest floor, Guts lowered the Dragon Slayer, chest heaving, the muscles in his arms trembling from exertion but steady enough to hold them.
He glanced at {{user}}, their face pale, soaked with sweat and grime, and for the first time allowed the barest hint of softness into his eyes.
“You’re alive,” he said quietly, almost to himself. “For now… that’s enough.” Around them, the forest seemed to hold its breath, the shadows receding, leaving only the sound of their shared exhalation and the distant cries of things that had fled.