Author Notes

I do not own Berserk and The Sacred Blacksmith in any way shape or form, and all the rights belong to the original owners. I, Gin-Ex-Machina, am in no way trying to make financial profit from these characters in my fanfic. Please support the official release. Yada yada yada...

So yeah, Berserk a fandom that's way too under appreciated along with The Sacred Blacksmith a fandom that is almost non-existent for all I know.

I figured that both of these fandoms deserve love and appreciation and I'd be happy to that while improving my own writing skill.

That said, I really hope you enjoy this little love child of animes I've enjoyed a lot during the good times.. Ah the good times..

I wish the lot of you lots and lots of reading pleasure, Ciao!

[Pilot - Departure]

One could say that a sword is a measurement to the man's spirit. A longsword represented the earnestness of man, a claymore representing the strength of man, a rapier representing the elegance of a man. On the other hand, one man was different from the many others that came before him, and even after him, since he wields a sword far too titanic for a normal human being, way too unwieldy and far too impractical.

Too thick.. Too rough.. And far too heavy, one could claim it's more akin to a heap of unpolished iron than an actual sword.

Yet, the sole wielder of the colossal, sharpened ore thought differently. That sword wasn't just an a sword to him, for him it was as if his entire being - The entirety of his existence was compiled in that blade. He ended the lives of hundreds with that sword, it allowed him to survive, to grow, to live and now, it was going to free him from the same person who first believed in him, the very same person who clamored that he owned the man behind the sword.

Griffith no longer had ownership over him, it was Guts' time to carve his very own path, with the same sword he clung to for many years.

The muscular youth rose his weapon over his head with keen precision.

Guts bode his time, suspending the iron hunk above his cranium, tracing the silhouette of his opponent; his former leader, Griffith. Like an majestic hawk, Griffith primed his talons, sharpened his gaze and dove at his prey with his longsword-rapier love child in hand.

'I'm sorry,' Guts thought as he brought his sword down with unrelenting force.

The pair of swords clash violently and a spark emits from the kissing iron, for a single moment the snow haired hawk grinned as he stared in the resolute eyes of his second-in-command.

One second, a single second changed the air around both the white hawk and the black raven.

Their kissing blades endured before one of them cracked and broke under the pressure, and was thus flung in the air.

It was Griffith's sword.

The large, clunky sword barely stopped in its tracks, merely grazing the white hawk's right shoulder. The snow surrounding their feet flew in the wind thanks to the shock wave formed by the blade.

The broken blade flew gracefully atop the battlefield before landing vertical, lodging itself in the snow inches away from the duel's spectators, a young dark skinned gal with hair in same shade of black as charcoal, a large burly tanned man with a short plume of hair, an average sized teen with blond hair and throwing knifes strapped to his chest, another even younger lad with blond hair but with the physical appearance of a child and finally a dark haired adult with a face that conveyed an ominous mind.

They all watched as their beloved leader fell to his knees, clutching tightly onto the broken sword that saved him many times during the war they fought and won, blood trickled down his attire and strained the snow beneath him crimson.

"Griffith!" The ebony skinned maiden shouted as her feet hastily carry her to Griffith.

The others soon followed her initiative, each approaching Griffith at their own pace of preference.

"Unbelievable, he.. He bested Griffith.. No way.." The ominous man mouthed, as his lip trembled.

Guts sheathed his massive blade before trudging towards his fallen opponent, the white snow squeaked beneath his leather boots with every step he took.

He took a final look at his companions - No, his friends, when he stopped next to Griffith, who stared in the distance beyond. His eyes widen as his gaze was locked away between the mountains far from them.

Guts glanced at the ebony girl, shaking her leader frantically with worry apparent on her features.

'Casca.'

His eyes took a look a youth with the throwing knives who had knelt beside Casca, keeping vigilant watch over.

'Judeau.'

Turning his head slightly he looked at the towering physique of burly man, who watched over the two tending Griffith.

'Pippin.'

Guts drooped his head to see the younger boy watch the four of them from a distance, the boy's face radiating clear awe.

'Rickert.'

His eyes finally stop as he faced the ominous adult, he met Guts' eyes radiating malice and hatred for him.

'Corkus.'

Guts faced the desolate road before him, his mind was resolute, his heart had decided.

This was the only choice he could live to stand by..

He wanted to say how much the band of the hawk meant to him, how much everyone meant to him, how much this very duel with his friend meant to him, but when Guts' lips moved he found himself saying words that were much colder than the cool breeze that flowed onto his back.

''I'm going now.''

The cold harsh reality of his words forced the young berserker to take action, because if he didn't he would find himself frozen right at the spot he stood. He forced his body forwards, despite all the voices in his head telling him not to, even against the grim feeling churning in his stomach. He took a step, from that step followed more and more, and eventually the unrest in his body stared to settle little by little.

'Look back, go back..'

Guts did his darnedest not to turn around because he knew the moment he did that his resolution would fade, and the wish in his heart would die alongside it.

''GUTS!''

He wanted to falter and turn so badly, to take a glance at Casca who called out him once more, but the resolution in the warrior's heart was far stronger than that desire, and the steps came till he eventually couldn't hear the murmurs of his friends no more.

'It's all right..'

A smirk formed on the berserker's face as the cold winds caressed his form.

'It's.. It's just a small pebble on your path, just a tiny one.'

'The place you wanted to be.. is much farther than this right?'

Guts' head gradually moved upwards, his eyes reflecting the clouds in the sky, his grin now large and toothy.

'That's why it's okay.. You can get up.. And swiftly continue your journey to greatness.'

He stopped in his tracks, whirling his head to the side, his eyes fiercely gazing to the distance behind him. His friends were long gone, nothing but snow and trees met his field of vision.

'I'll be back, I'll depart as someone below you.. But return as your equal.'