: You know what, I’m mixin’ it up today! I’m gonna say the first words! After these words I’m saying right now. Ahem…Choco-Bana Ninny Nana Berry Swirl!
: What, may I ask, was the purpose behind that?
: Nothing, I just…I really want Thrice Cream.
: I feel ya, man.
: Could we perhaps speed this up, I’m a bit short on patience right now.
: Agreed.
: Even though you’re about to try kill each other, it’s nice that you can agree on things. Rather wholesome. But, if you insist…
: It’s time for a SMACKDOWN!!!
The Maker Realm…
The day was somewhat overcast, as a small figure traversed the vast Stonefather’s Vale. Behind him, the rider left a trail of rot and decay, turning the once pristine grass into a dead ash, before it reverted to normal as the shape passed it by.
At last, the warrior found himself at the great gates to Tri-Stone, the Maker city, and dismounted his faithful steed, the horse whinnying as it disappeared into spectral vapor.
On his shoulder, a small crow let out a harsh screech and flapped its wings, smacking its master in the face.
“Quiet, Dust, or I’ll end our partnership right here and now.” he threatened, his hand clutching his scythe, as his faithful flighty companion decided to shut up.
“Hmmhmmhmm…out of all the creatures Crowfather could have given me, I get stuck with you. Wonderful.”
The rider went by many names. Kinslayer, Reaper, Horseman.
Death.
That was what everyone called him. At least, everyone who had survived an encounter with him.
It was a short list.
As Death entered the city proper, his eyes caught sight of a massive warrior, clad in Maker armor and wielding his trusty axe Bess.
“Aye! Good to see yah, rider!”
“Hello, Thane.”
“So, yer comin’ here for a bit o’ sparrin’ with an old warrior?”
“Trust me, old one, it wasn’t my desire to come back here.”
“Aye, yeh clearly aren’t the sentimental type. So why have ye graced us with yer presence, eh? Finally come to take me back to yer Kingdom of the Dead?”
“No, your time hasn’t come. Yet. I was summoned here by an old…friend.”
“Ah, well, he did warn us yeh were comin’. Should be out back, by the foundry, whenever yer ready.”
“…Thank you.” Death replied, slowly walking past Thane, as the warrior continued to train on the practice dummies.
Entering the Maker’s Forge, Death was accosted by Alya, as the Maker walked beside him.
“How are you, Alya?”
“Oh, well…fine, I suppose. We just finished erecting a statue in Eidard’s honor. It’s going to be a big celebration.”
“I hope you enjoy your party.”
“Oh, it’s not a party. It’s a readin’ of a eulogy, one he prepared just for this occasion. Feel like stickin’ around, fulfillin’ your quota?”
“Believe it or not, I derive no pleasure from the end of lives.”
“Ironic.”
“Not really. Just part of the quota.”
The two reached the door on the other side of the hall, and paused.
“Well, I gotta get back and make sure Valus is making those weapons right. If you need help with anythin’ else-“
“I won’t.” Death cut her off, before walking outside.
There, standing at the beginning of the bridge to the foundry, was an ethereal, decrepit man that Death had more than his fair share of experiences with.
“Crowfather.”
“Yes…”
“But I thought you wanted to pass on after I defeated Absalom. Your soul is free.”
“I could leave this world, yes. But ultimately, I am still the keeper of secrets. And there are far more secrets left in this world that I have not discovered, for me to be content with moving on. And so I will stay, and guide you on your journeys. Perhaps through you, I can uncover what I could not find alone.”
“…”
“In fact, I have something you may be interested in. A task.”
“I’m no errand monkey, Crowfather.”
“Oh, this is no mere errand. Recently on Earth, there’s been some maligned, destructive force, tearing its way through cities, destroying humanity bit by bit.”
“But Abbadon is-“
“Not Abbadon. Something…else.”
“Where can I find it?”
“Uriel and the Hellguard are busy fighting it right now.”
“The entire Hellguard?”
“They can no longer go back to the White City, and this force is far more demonic and powerful than you can imagine.”
“Very well. I can get back to Earth from the portal in Lostlight, I suppose.”
“Good luck, Death. I will be waiting at the Tree, when you complete your task.”
“Somehow I feel like you’re enjoying this too much.”
“Oh, no, Death. I told you, my anger and hate towards you subsided when the amulet was destroyed. We are at peace, you and I.”
Death said nothing as he walked away, before disappearing into the aether and reappearing at the entrance to the Tree of Life. At the far corner of the tree stood the portal to the angel’s outpost.
Steeling himself, Death walked into the portal, and disappeared.
Lostlight…
Once again, Death rode on Despair to reach the Crystal Spire, gleaming in the midday sun as Death shielded his eyes from the glare. The gates to the tower readily opened, as Death strolled in and unsaddled from Despair, the horse whinnying with anxiety.
“Yes…I understand. You can go for a bit, I will summon you when you are needed.”
Despair gave a ghost of a smile as he disappeared, leaving Death to walk into the citadel.
Riding the elevator to the top of the Spire, Death witnessed a fat angel on a throne. In his hands was the mystical Rod of Arafel, an angelic artifact Death had fought tooth and nail to acquire for the previous Archon…before slaughtering him.
“Death!”
“Jamaerah.”
“Welcome to the Crystal Spire. Can I help-“
“I need to get to Earth.”
Jamaerah’s face turned deathly serious. “Ah…they sent you to resolve this?”
“In a sense.”
“Please, just, try not to murder too many people, horseman.”
“Archon, you sound like you’re talking to someone with no experience in killing.”
“Fair point.”
With a wave of his hand, Jamaerah opened the portal to Earth, a bit more pleasant to look at compared to the last time Death had visited. With a curt nod, Death stepped into the vortex, and vanished, heading to Earth with conviction to perform justice.
“Let’s just hope we all live through this.”
Earth…
As Death touched down in the same square he started his quest to find the Rod of Arafel, he took a moment to reminisce. Sure, the last time he’d been here, he’d spent it fighting four-armed demons and exploding kamikaze monsters, but there was a homey feel to it all. A good divider between heaven and hell, and a nice place to contemplate his nature as a nephilim. The sky was even a light blue today, a stark contrast to the hellish landscape he’d fought through before.
“Hmm…perhaps Crowfather was mistaken in saying there’s-“
KA-BOOM!
A firestorm erupted just a few blocks away, knocking over buildings with ease.
“Ah, there it is.”
Death started to run, but then noticed a nearby motorcycle.
Seconds later, the Horseman was riding down the street, a stack of gold left on the curb as he turned the corner.
There, he saw the source of the blast: Uriel and the Hellguard, battling against a man dressed in a black cloak, heaving a massive broadsword as he struck down on one of them, just barely missing the neck.
“Wonder what happened here…” Death muttered, as he leaped off the bike and slashed at the swordsman before he could strike downward, forcing him to guard against Death’s strike with all his might, only barely managing to push Deah away as the Reaper landed on his feet, several meters away.
“It’s…about time…you got here, Rider.” Uriel panted.
“Clearly you weren’t able to handle this.” Death countered, crossing his scythes as he stared into the warriors’ eyes with the cold gaze of a trained killer, the opponent mimicking his stance.
“You have 5 seconds to explain who you are, or the Lord of Bones is getting some company.” Death demanded.
“I am Guts, the Black Swordsman! Now, send me back to my homeland, or I’ll kill you where you stand!”
“Ah yes, I’m supposed to send you home. Me, the reaper who showed up a minute ago and has never seen you before today, is responsible for this.”
“I warn you…this blade I carry has seen countless battles. You would be nothing more than another nameless victim to have died by its sway.”
“I suppose in that case, I’ll leave it as a marker of your resting place.”
“If you cannot help me, then I will find my answers somewhere else.” Guts concluded, turning to leave, only for Death’s scythe to extend and wrap itself around Guts’ leg, dragging the swordmaster back to stare eye-to-eye with Death.
“There happens to be the small problem of you killing hundreds of people, that can’t go unpunished.”
“So, you’re going to kill me?”
“You catch on fast.”
“Faster than you!” Guts yelled, as he kicked upward, his feet colliding with Death’s face and sending the reaper flying into a nearby car, denting it.
“Ahh…” Death groaned, sitting up and rubbing his head as he stared with bewilderment at Guts, who had drawn his Dragonslayer once again and leveled it at Death.
“If you truly are the Reaper of Souls…then you’ll have to take mine by force.”
“So be it.” Death growled, unsheathing his scythes and crouching, eyes narrowed on his target.
Annoyed, Death dug his scythes into a nearby truck, before grabbing hold of the hilts and spinning around rapidly, turning the vehicle into a mighty flail as it destroyed the remnants of the surrounding buildings, before hurling the makeshift weapon at Guts. The truck was massive, but Guts easily cleaved it in two with one swing, the severed halves falling to the ground with an explosive thud.
“Impressive.” Death mused, as he stowed away his scythes and pulled out Fletcher’s Crow Hammer, hefting it like a club as he strafed towards Guts. Meeting the attack head-on, Guts’ Dragonslayer clashed with the hammer, resulting in a power struggle that sent shockwaves in all directions, shredding whatever happened to cross their path, friend or foe.
As both sides pushed back equally, the ground underneath them began to buckle under the intense strain, as the entire street wobbled uncontrollably, forcing the two fighters off-balance as Death now found himself with the high ground.
With the opportunity given, Death leaped into the air and performed a spinning hammer attack downwards, one with such tremendous force behind it that Guts couldn’t parry it this time, his blade clanging and the reactionary force sending the swordsman slamming into the wall, before falling down into the sewers.
“Oh, you’re not getting away that easily.” Death muttered, before hopping down into the hole to pursue his quarry.
…
Death fell with a loud splash, sinking waist high into mucky water as he rolled with the impact to land back on his feet with a running start, chasing after the sound of clanking on iron just ahead.
Soon the path split in two directions, the noise growing fainter.
“Some things never change…” Death mused, as he focused and turned his body to stone using the Soul Splitter, the two halves of his soul appearing next to him and moving down separate tunnels.
The purple soul felt himself growing faint as he moved farther away from his host body, and eventually ran into a dead-end. The green soul, however, saw the path curve ahead.
“He went this way!” The soul called out, as the two halves merged back into the stone and Death reformed, following the trail his soul had revealed and disappearing into the tunnel.
Guts kept running, slashing at the pipes on the sides in order to flood the passage with sewage and steam to hopefully slow Death down, but the horseman just dived into the muck and kept swimming, slowly gaining on the swordsman.
Mercifully, Guts could see an opening ahead, causing him to run full-tilt towards the light as Death followed behind. At last, the two entered into a dimly lit cavern under the city, littered with discarded trains and strange red crystals.
“Corruption…impossible. Absalom is dead, what is this!?” Death growled, pulling out his scythes.
“I have nothing to do with corruption, or Absalom. If anything, you blaming this on me shows your refusal to atone for your sin.”
“My sin?!”
“Yes. The sin of the reaper, killing anyone who speaks out of line, enforcing his judgement as the absolute law of nature. It’s sickening, your attempts to boil down human life into arbitrary death counts.”
Death was silent for a few moments. And then…
“Hmm…heh heh heh…heh heh heh heh heh…you really don’t know me at all, do you?”
“Death isn’t a simple drop in the pond. It’s real, permanent, omnipresent. It shapes every decision that you and everyone you’ve known have made and will make for all of time. It set me on a path across realms, all to save my brother War. You have no idea how many I have sacrificed to uphold the balance. My entire race, slain by my hand, all for the sake of preserving the universal will. A peace you shattered with your hypocritical mindless violence.”
“So never…never…lecture me about killing.” Death whispered, his voice icy and cruel as his eyes drilled into Guts’ soul. Surprisingly, the Black Swordsman held his ground in the face of the nephilim, prepared to fight.
“Very well. But when you meet your swift end…” Death assured, “…know that it is on your head.”
With that, Death charged, as Guts ran forward to meet him in the center of the plateau, their blades clashing in a struggle that sent sparks in all directions, the cavern’s eerie silence punctuated by the clang of steel.
Eventually Guts thrust his blade upward and through Death’s guard, staggering the Reaper as the Black Swordsman followed up his strike with a downward spinning slash, with Death only barely managing to raise his scythes in time to avoid a fatal blow, at the cost of the blades shattering from the impact, the scattered pieces falling around Death as he stumbled backward in a heap.
“Of all the things that could happen…” Death groaned, as he swapped to a pair of gauntlets and rushed at Guts once again, striking with increased ferocity and precision at Guts’ Dragonslayer, its wielder only barely managing to stave off the powerful rush of attacks.
And yet, with every strike, Death was beginning to gain an advantage, landing a few hits on Guts as they reached the edge of the cliff. And with every blow landed, Guts felt his strength beginning to be sapped, his body beginning to weaken as his parries became less forceful.
A direct consequence of the power of Achidna’s Fangs, leeching the life from Guts’ soul and fueling Death with its power.
Growing desperate, Guts performed a sweeping kick to force Death off the ground, before performing an upward slash to try and cleave the fangs in two. Satisfied with his handiwork, Death removed the gauntlets and threw them at the sword, shifting its trajectory and causing Guts to be carried off the cliff by the momentum.
Expecting to hear Guts’ scream as he plummeted to his death, the reaper leaned over the side…
…only to see Guts still hanging on, digging his blade into the rock face as an anchor.
“Tch, this is wasting my time.” Death murmured, as he pulled out his brother Strife’s pistol, Redemption, and opened fire.
Acting quickly, Guts hung onto his blade from underneath, as the bullets harmlessly bounced off the sword and stuck nearby stalactites, an avalanche of rock falling into the water with a mighty splash.
When the rain of bullets ceased, Guts swung up and landed on top of the blade. Using it as a springboard, Guts leaped into the air, grabbed the sword out of the rock, and heaved himself back on the arena, no worse for wear as he leveled his weapon at his foe once more.
“Not bad, for a human.”
“You say human, like you aren’t one.”
“Indeed. But, sometimes it crosses my mind to live as one.”
Undeterred, Guts charged forward to skewer Death, only for the Reaper to pull out the Deposed King’s Scepter and meet the attack directly. The bone-chilling force of the mad king Argul flowed through the weapon, as it easily won the power struggle and struck Guts with the force of a world-ending blizzard, freezing the swordsman in an icy tomb.
Guts could barely move his hands, as Death swapped to his Demonflame Renders to burn Guts alive. But before Death could deliver the final strike, a small twitch appeared from Guts’s left arm, causing Death to pause briefly out of curiosity.
However, that split-second was all Guts needed, as his arm retracted to reveal a barrel, from which a cannonball emerged and struck Death in the chest!
The force of the blow made Death keel over in pain, clutching his stomach, as Guts used his hand to reach for his sword in the ice, and slashed around him faster than the eye could see, making thousands of cuts interlocking with each other.
Moments later, the ice shattered, falling in powdery flakes around the swordsman as he let loose a cold breath of relief. Sparing no time, Guts charged forward and slashed before Death could recover, slicing across the horseman’s face with an audible schlick.
Two blood-soaked halves of the reaper’s mask fell to the ground, clattering as they struck the stone.
The air seemed to grow ten degrees colder as Death stood up, gripping his scythes as he stared at the ground. Then, slowly, his gaze shifted, until he looked Guts right in his eyes.
It was the most terrifying image Guts had ever seen. Even with blood caking his face, Death’s visage still evoked fear of the endless nightmare void, swimming with departed souls and unholy abominations of mankind. Looking at it for one second, Guts felt his mind being rent, fearing that he would go blind from sheer terror.
As he shielded his eyes, Death reached into the folds of his armor and pulled out another mask, strapping it to his face until the only visible thing were his piercing orange eyes, once again.
“Now you see…the burden I have carried for centuries. Not as simple as you’ve thought, is it, Guts?”
“You…you’re a monster!”
“You hate what you’ve become. Typical.”
“I…I can’t believe you! All this time you’ve been speaking as if we’re equals! Trying to pretend you know the struggles of man! But you have no idea! You…you’re worse than Griffith! You’re just scum!” Guts raged, as a dark aura manifested from his body and covered him from sight.
Just as Death prepared to charge in and finish off Guts, a long black tendril appeared from the darkness and wrapped itself around the reaper’s windpipe, lifting him into the air as he clawed and gasped for breath.
Before his eyes, Death witnessed the light shift, becoming an ugly yellow before the raging storm of power dissipated. Left in its place was Guts, looking almost the same.
Well, if you discounted the bright yellow eyes, veins in his face, tendrils, and black ooze leaking from his orifices.
“No…it can’t be! Corruption has…chosen a new champion?!”
A wolf lunged across a grassy field and struck a roan buck in its side, pushing the deer to the ground and digging its claws into the helpless animal’s hide, leaving huge, bloody scrapes that left the earth soaked in crimson. Satisfied with the hunt, the wolf prepared to bite down on its freshly caught meal…
…only for its vitals to cease immediately as a blade sunk deep into its head, the wolf’s blood leaking as it collapsed to the ground, dead before it even got there. The killer retracted his blade from the monster’s skull, revealing his identity as Guts.
He sat down to marvel at his prey, before digging into its flesh and savoring the tangy crunch of its bones on his teeth.
Salivating at the mouth, Guts continued to chew like his life depended on it, his eyes darting around to make sure no one else stole his prize.
It was a good few minutes before the swordsman finally swallowed the last bite and got to his feet, trekking onward. He could feel the cold winds biting at him, nagging him to slow his pace and let the oncoming armies of Griffith hunt him down and slaughter him like that wolf. But he blocked it out, and kept moving.
At last, night began to fall, and he needed shelter. The land was bare in most directions, but directly north was a twisted, dead tree, absolutely massive in size, dwarfing even Falconia.
And tucked into the middle was a small crevasse, perfect for spending the night in safety.
After a bit more hiking, he found himself at the base of the tree as the moon rose to its peak. Placing Dragonslayer on the ground next to him, Guts leaned back against the bark and closed his eyes, nodding off quickly.
Unbeknownst to Guts, the tree he was under was truly the Tree of Death, the final resting place of Absalom and the Corruption.
And as Guts began to sleep, small drops of yellow and black gunk oozed from the holes in the tree and began to form a tight ring around Guts, the Swordsman oblivious to its existence as the seeds of Corruption were absorbed into his body.
With a round of writhing in a gasping fit, Guts finally relaxed and let himself succumb to the calm voice of reason filling his thoughts.
As light began to shine on Guts’ face, the swordsman opened his eyes and took a glimpse out at the world…
…but he could have never prepared for what he saw.
Instead of the lush green fields and sprawling mountain ranges he’d come to know, he was boxed in by massive windowed structures on all sides, easily surpassing anything he’d seen before in complexity. His feet no longer felt the cool, padded grass, but rough, uneven concrete roads.
“Wh…what happened? Where am I?”
“Uh, hey man? You okay?”
Startled, Guts turned around to see another man behind him, dressed in…rather strange clothes.
“Yes…I’m a bit lost though. Not sure where I am.”
“Eh, well, you’re at 31st and Main, if that helps.”
“Huh?”
“Buddy, you from the Stone Age or something? Or do you just not understand English?”
“I am Guts! The Black Swordsman of Midland, sworn to slay the White Falcon Griffith and lay him low with the cold steel of my blade, Dragonslayer!”
“…Right. Well, don’t worry, I’ll take you to defeat Griffith in no time, just follow me, okay?”
“Very well. Lead the way.”
But as Guts trailed behind, he could hear a faint whisper coming from the man as he walked.
“Oh, boy…this guy is completely wacko. Must be some cosplayer who went too far. Soon as we get to the mental hospital I’m ditching him.”
Stopping in place, Guts stared at the back of the man with a mixture of anger and confusion.
“What is he doing if he doesn’t want to help me?” Guts pondered, unsure of how to respond.
“It’s quite simple, really.” a venomous voice sounded in his ears. “He’s taking you to a demon’s nest to let you rot for eternity, denying you of your rightful vengeance against those who have wronged you for years.”
“Yes…”
“You cannot allow this disciple of chaos to steer you from your path of retribution!”
“Yes…”
“You must destroy all who stand in your way!”
“YES!” Guts roared, as he raised his Dragonslayer with almighty power.
“Hey, don’t worry, buddy, we’re almost the-“
The blade came down with a sickening thud, coating the edge of the blade with ruby-colored liquid, dripping to the floor and staining it crimson.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t a very discrete tactic, as all the bystanders nearby simply stared with looks of horror, and occasional disgust. Then, a blonde woman raised her voice and shouted “POLICE!”
From behind Guts, a deafening siren entered within earshot, as a black and white cruiser appeared with two cops inside. One of them, munching on a donut, opened the door and stood up, face to face with the Black Swordsman, while the other appeared somewhat hunched over as he exited the vehicle.
“Sir! You are charged with first-degree manslaughter! Surrender now, or we will use force!”
“Don’t listen!” The inner voice hissed. “They’ll kill you before you can complete your mission!”
“Yes…this is just a trick!” Guts screamed, raising his sword once again and running forward at top speed. The cops, fully unprepared, were forced to dodge at the last moment as Guts attempted to bury the sword into their skulls, just like the first civilian.
“Manslaughter and resisting arrest, that’s just great!” the first cop groaned, as he charged forward to attempt to tase Guts, who looked back at him with a gaze of pure malice, his eyes glowing a sickly yellow. He swung his blade to clash with the officer’s stun baton, causing outbursts of electrical energy.
A valiant effort on the part of the noble peacekeeper, but fruitless, as the severed halves fell to the ground moments later, bubbling with a ceaseless tide of blood.
“Holy shit…” the second officer cursed, as Guts craned his neck to face him, blood staining his face.
“‘I’m…I’m sorry, honey. I let you down. Please, be safe, for me.'” the officer mused, preparing himself to hold off the madman for as long as he could.
The two stared each other down, sizing each other up and determining their advantages. The wind in the air stopped blowing, as if to bear witness to what was about to happen.
Then, they charged.
“HYAAAAAH!” the officer yelled as he pulled out his baton, about to smash his weapon into the swordsman’s skull.
His plans of self-sacrifice, however, were thwarted by a bright golden pillar, blinding all the witnesses in the square as it stretched higher into the sky than even the tallest skyscrapers.
When the gleaming power died, it revealed the forms of several angelic beings, clad in heavenly armor and wielding holy armaments.
“Demonic beast! By order of the White City, begone from the Kingdom of Man! You are not welcome here!” the leader, Uriel, boomed, leveling her firearm at the black warrior.
“Who…who are you?” the officer choked out.
“We are the Hellguard, mortals. Beings sworn to protect the balance between the three kingdoms, no matter the circumstance.”
“…angels are real?”
“Hestus almighty…yes, we are real. Now, if you have any sort of self-preservation, leave!”
“You don’t have to tell me twice!” the officer muttered, as he joined the crowd in fleeing for his life, silently thanking the maker under his breath.
“We will offer you one chance. Leave now, or face the justice of heaven!”
“Don’t listen to them…they’re just spies, sent by Griffith to eliminate you!” the cruel inner voice spoke. “Finish them off and take your revenge!”
Taking a few deep breaths, Guts’ eyes glazed over and turned black as sin, as he leveled his mighty blade.
“DIE! DIE! DIE!” Guts screamed in a berserk rage, as he slammed the ground to create an earthquake, knocking the Hellguard on their backs with its sheer power.
“Very well. You have chosen your path. Hellguard, attack!” Uriel commanded, as her fellow warriors released a battle cry and charged to meet the opposition.
Present Time…
Death continued to simply stare at Guts, now fully under the will of Corruption.
“So, that’s why he attacked the Hellguard and those people. Even when I destroy its champion, Corruption doesn’t give up. Like a cockroach from the bowels of Samael’s keep.”
“Perhaps…there is still a way to cure him, bloodlessly.” Death considered.
“RRAH! DIE!” Guts roared, surging forward at lightning speed to slash at Death, the reaper only barely managing to dodge to the side before the blade sliced into the rock like it was tissue paper.
“Or, perhaps not.” Death concluded, as he raised his hand and summoned forth a Murder of icy crows, flapping their wings as they began pecking at Guts’ flesh, their sharp, cold beaks leaving freezer-burn flesh wounds in the Swordsman’s skin, while slowly drip-feeding his essence to Death.
More angered than hurt, Guts swung his blade around in a circle, slicing through all the crows in one fell swoop, as hundreds of bird carcasses fell to the ground.
Somewhat caught off guard, Death only barely managed to activate his Aegis Guard right before Guts’ next slash, one that would have surely left him cleaved in 2. With Guts staggered, Death was free to channel the power of Unstoppable, surrounding him with an ethereal glow.
Now without fear, Death used his Teleport Dash to instantly close the gap between him and Guts, before following it up with a rising upward slash with his Sunder that knocked Guts into the air, allowing the Reaper to tear into Guts with a barrage of scythe swings before finishing with a double-overhead scythe slam, not only knocking Guts into the rocky floor, but destroying the entire plateau, sending Guts falling towards the crystalline water below.
But before the berserker could touch the water, Death pulled him back with his Deathgrip and proceeded to deliver a powerful flip kick that struck Guts directly in his back, an audible crack resounding as Guts felt his spine being torn in two, before slamming into the murky depths below with a splash.
The swordsman struggled to get to his feet, bleeding from a half dozen places, as he strained his eyes to see Death stabbing downward from above to cave in Guts’ skull.
“Get away!” Guts roared, raising his arm skyward and revealing a bow attachment. Without hesitation, Guts fired a salvo of repeater crossbow bolts at speeds Death couldn’t comprehend, knocking him out of the sky and into the pool.
Ripping the arrow from his shoulder, Death hunched over in pain, though he refused to wince.
“This is getting tiresome.” Death groaned, as he unsteadily pulled out his Chaos Fang scythes.
“Then let’s end this, here and now!” Guts countered, as from the depths of his armor he pulled out a batch of small pellets with fuses. As Death threw his conjoined scythes forward like a sawblade, Guts jumped over the oncoming death wheel and fired the pellets straight at the ground, aiming perfectly so the bombs hit the scythes when they boomeranged back around and exploded on contact.
From the bombs came a cloud of dark smoke that obscured Death’s sight, causing the reaper to swing his scythes around in an attempt to cut through the smoke, blindly striking random points. His fixation on the darkness came at the expense of his guard, allowing the swordsman to sneak around while Death wasn’t looking, and in one fell swoop…
stabbed through Death’s stomach!
His eyes widening in shock, Death looked down at the gaping hole in his chest, created by the impalement of Guts’ massive blade. As the smoke died, Guts’ face twisted into a manic grimace, his eyes ablaze with a fury unlike any he had felt before.
“Your evil…ends here.” Guts whispered with finality into Death’s ear, before forcefully ripping the blade from Death’s body, letting the Reaper fall to the ground, limp.
Sliding his Dragonslayer back into its sheath, Guts turned around and began scanning the cave, trying to see if there was a way out. But before he had even taken ten steps, a massive jolt was sent through his body.
The entire lake was alight with the wrath of the Demon Storm, conducting through the water to paralyze every nerve in Guts’ body. And with the Elemental Talisman strung around Death’s neck, the pain was increased a thousandfold, almost enough to blow Guts to pieces with its power.
The pain didn’t subside when the shock went away. In fact, the slow ebb of the agony actually hurt even worse, causing Guts to fall to his knees.
As he tried to block out the pain, the already dark cave was sucked of what little light it did have, leaving nothing but a void of pure black. It was as if the goddess Nyx herself occupied every inch of the cave with her presence.
Before Guts could even turn around, he was grabbed by the neck from behind, and lifted into the air. The culprit?
A spectral avatar of demise, wielding the biggest scythe Guts had ever seen. His face wasn’t visible beneath his massive cloak, but Guts could tell that Death had risen from beyond the grave to exact his terrible wrath.
The true Reaper had shown himself at last.
Without warning, Death used his massive strength to hurl Guts into the air, the force so great that Guts punched a hole in the ceiling and flew into the sky, out of sight.
Before Guts could start falling, Death teleported into the air and grabbed the swordsman by the leg, swung him around at hyper speed, and slammed him into a nearby construction site, shattering it to pieces as Death threw Guts into a pile of steel beams.
Guts assumed the worst of it was over, but it was then that Death pulled out his scythe and sliced off Guts’ arm!
The bloody stump that used to be Guts’ arm let loose a torrent of fluids, as Guts’ skin turned deathly pale. Desperate, Guts tried to slash away at the Reaper form with Dragonslayer, only for Death to dodge faster than Guts could see, slicing off his leg in the process.
Off-balance, Guts fell over and got a face full of bloody dirt, choking on his own coughed-up innards, as Death prepared to deliver the finishing blow to the crippled warrior once and for all.
“‘So…this is how I die. Cut to pieces by some faceless demon, never getting retribution. Guess I might as well accept it.'”
“‘Well…at least, I would. But, there is that one other option.'”
“‘It could kill me. Drive me insane. Maybe both. But…it’s the only way to have a chance at going back home.'”
“‘Alright…here goes.'”
As Death swung, Guts retracted into the depths of his armor, which formed a protective shield around him. Guts head was covered by a darkened mask with jagged teeth and glowing red eyes, the visage of a true monster.
Without effort, Guts caught the blade of Death’s scythe with one hand, pushing it to the side as it sliced into the concrete.
With that done, Guts delivered a swift kick to Death’s midsection, sending the Reaper back into a crumbling building that collapsed on top of him right after, allowing Guts to stand up, collecting the scythe in the process and holding it up alongside Dragonslayer in his one hand. With his free hand, he grabbed his severed leg, and began binding it to his thigh by tightening the stranglehold the armor had on his flesh, until he had an effective makeshift suture.
The Berserker had made his appearance.
Suddenly, the building exploded into rubble, revealing Death unharmed, but angered beyond measure.
The cold hand of silence was the only accompanying presence as the bladesmiths stared each other down, blood pumping, murderous intent filling their every thought.
And then the peace shattered as they moved.
play
(Play if rooting for Death)
play
(Play if rooting for Guts)
Death threw his scythe once more, only for Guts to parry it back at the Reaper, catching him off guard and leaving a scratch on his cloak before he could dodge. Without missing a beat, Death summoned forth an army of ghouls from coffins beneath the earth, the revenants exploding into a ring of fire as they surrounded Guts and began to scratch with their misshapen claws.
But the zombie army was shredded to dust by a single spin attack, exploding and trapping the Black Swordsman in a mighty firestorm. The flames, left with nothing to burn, slowly fizzled out as Guts stepped out of the blaze, seemingly unhurt.
Well, “unhurt” was a bit of an exaggeration. His skin was burnt down to the bone, and every fiber of his being was screaming in pain to stop, but Guts was alive, pushed to his breaking point by the cruel power of the armor.
Of course, his opponent didn’t need to know that.
Roaring with the ferocity of a demonic beast, Guts swung his blade forward like a meat cleaver, delivering a powerful overhead strike that Death just barely managed to avoid, the impact of the blade leaving a deep gouge in the stone and causing the blade to become stuck. In his frantic race to pull it free, the swordsman left himself completely exposed to Death’s oncoming Bone Storm, the hurricane of swirling cartilage and dust tearing into Guts’ armor and ripping pieces of whatever flesh the swordsman had left out onto the ground.
Yet still, Guts persevered, digging his blade out of the ground and swiping at Death, the reaper dodging backwards just in the nick of time and unleashing a mirage of his true form to strike at Guts, delivering a quick series of slashes before knocking the warrior on his back.
Guts tried to swipe at Death with an get-up spin attack, but his movements felt overtly sluggish, a direct consequence of Frenzy slowing him to a crawl and leaving him helpless to Death grabbing him by the neck and flinging him into nearby buildings, thrashing Guts with utmost ferocity as the sky turned black.
Stunned for a brief moment, Guts recovered quickly and slashed with his heavy blade, forcing Death to drop the swordsman to dodge the blow and allowing Guts to hit the ground running, using Dragonslayer as a pole to vault into the air and swipe at the phantasmal Reaper.
Death, ever quick on the draw, summoned forth his Masher of Karkinos and struck down with a critical blow, dealing a heavy blow that knocked Guts into another skyscraper at the speed of sound.
And yet Guts responded in kind by kicking off the wall, shattering the windows, and slicing straight through the mallet into Death’s flank, cutting off a portion of his cloak, but just missing the flesh by mere inches.
As Guts tried to make another pass around to strike at Death’s exposed skin, the Reaper strapped on his Mortis gauntlets and unleashed a powerful omnidirectional blast, knocking Guts away and into a nearby fire hydrant, a shower of muddy water clogging Guts’ nose with a maligned odor.
Ignoring the burning sensation, Guts once more activated his crossbow and began firing a series of arrows at lightning speed, forcing Death to evade in a myriad of patterns that took him all around the skyline.
Eventually Death found himself hovering above Guts, the swordsman unaware of Death’s presence. The lapse in attention gave Death the opportunity to summon forth the Gorewood Maul, before hurling the oaken mace into the earth to generate a powerful avalanche of concrete, slamming into Guts and sending him smashing into a subway car.
The unearthing of the stone also revealed a green sigil, rather familiar to Death, assuming he could reactivate it. But before he could ponder what his next move would be, the Dragonslayer impaled him in the arm, thrown by Guts from the wreckage. The surprise of his arm being skewered halted Death long enough for Guts to jump from the ruins and grab the hilt of the blade, before pulling it out in an arc as he leaped over Death’s head, the Reaper’s arm going with it.
If Death could speak through the pain, he would have screamed, but he kept his pain within as he brought out the devious GnoMAD Scythes, a relic of a trickster from the great beyond, and hooked onto Guts with the tip of the blade, bringing the marauder closer and allowing Death to perform a devastating spin attack, slicing into Guts’ flesh before hurling him into yet more buildings, reducing the entire city block to nothing but rubble.
As Guts unsteadily rose to his feet, he could hear a high-pitched wailing sounding off in his ears, a chorus of gnomish caterwauling that refused to cease in its unending annoyance. The voices simply rose higher and higher in volume until they were practically screaming in Guts’ ears, at decibels threatening to blow them right off if he didn’t cover them violently, blood rushing to his knuckles.
Desperate to block out the noise, Guts ran into one of the few remaining buildings and grabbed hold of some dust-caked brick chunks, digging them into his eardrums until the noise finally stopped. An avalanche of vibrations replaced them, booming and crashing through his skull and giving him a splitting headache, as the spirit of GnoMAD delivered its foul curse.
Landing in front of him, Death witnessed Guts trying to silence the deafening noise by bashing his head into a wall.
“I can stop the pain, if you give up and surrender to the Charred Council.” Death grumbled.
“I’ll kill you!” Guts roared, swinging his sword wildly and smashing everything in the room in a destructive whirlwind of rage, forcing Death to evade backwards and let his afterimage suffer the brunt of the attack.
“Have it your way.”
Death once again reached into his bottomless pool of mystical weapons and brought out the last remnant of his kin, the Absolution, and delivered a mighty spinning barrage of his own, meeting Guts in the center of the room and tangoing in a deadly dance of blades, the world falling into the background around them as the sparks flew, landing all around on the metal floor and setting it alight.
But with every swing of the blade, Guts felt himself becoming slower, more sluggish in his strikes. Almost as if he was wading through a forest of thick swampwater. A byproduct of the curse of Absalom, bringing the warrior to a standstill.
At last, Guts was nothing but a statue, frozen in the visage of a destructive god, blade in hand.
And with his prey helpless, Abyssal Forge Hammer in hand, Death raised his instrument skyward, before bringing it down with the strength of Argul, an earth-shattering boom accompanying the strike.
At once, the force of the blow not only broke through Guts’ pitiful guard, but outright shattered the Berserker armor to pieces!
Clad once more in his normal armor, Guts was knocked to the floor, crumpled up in a broken heap, arms twisted, legs shattered, and spine mangled. He made no attempts to flee, merely standing up and sheathing Dragonslayer unsteadily as he assumed a sparring stance, trying to put up a feeble resistance.
“You’re rather persistent, for a human. Strength like yours is hard to come by.”
“We…are nothing…alike. I’ll fight…as hard as I can…to get back!”
Rolling his eyes behind his hood, Death looked around and saw the same green circle from before, inviting him.
Entertaining a new idea, Death pulled out his Phasewalker and fired a blast at the rune, causing it to alight with power.
“If you want to go home so much, I’ll gladly take you there!” Death roared, as he tackled Guts into the portal, flinging them through the infinite timestream until…
Midland…
The two soul reapers flew out of the portal once again, landing on the grass as Death flung the unmoving form of Guts into the dirt, carving a path that split through the once lush scenery.
“I’ve brought you back to your realm, mortal. Now perhaps you will be satisfied?”
Unsteadily, Guts got to his feet, clutching his shoulder as he stared at Death. For a few moments, he almost felt persuaded to put down his blade and relax…
“‘Weak! Pathetic coward! If you won’t fight then I’ll make you fight!'” the voice of Guts’ consciousness fought back, paralyzing Guts and leaving him unable to stop the corruption flowing through his veins, pumping up his aggression and hatred towards Death tenfold.
“NEVER!” Guts roared, launching his Dragonslayer like a spear and piercing Death’s side with deadly precision. The Reaper was thrown backward, before collapsing to his knees as the power surging through him finally expired, leaving Death helpless and bleeding out as Guts approached.
“Prepare to DIE!” Guts bellowed, pulling out the sword and raising it to deliver a mighty decapitation.
“Hmm…hmmhmmhmm…no, I don’t think I’m ready for the White City yet. But if you seek death so vehemently, I will grant it.”
With great pain, Death attached the Gauntlets of Savagery to his arms. The rage of a thousand wounds, stabs, and slashes permeated throughout his body, granting the Reaper more strength than he had felt in ages. The blade wound through his stomach was still sapping his life force, but it also granted him ever increasing might, filling his arms with power to rival even Samael.
As Guts brought the blade down, Death reached up and caught the sword with his bare hands!
Guts staggered backward as Death ripped the Dragonslayer from his grip, and proceeded to smash it against his knee, dropping the discarded pieces to the floor as he stepped forward to face the berserker.
Undeterred, Guts attempted to fire bolts from his repeater crossbow into Death’s skull, only for them to be struck out of the air by a scythe swing. Before the bow could be fired again, Death drew Redemption and fired a single shot, completely decimating the crossbow in a single hit, and cascading wooden shards all around in a heap.
Guts tried to throw a punch with all his remaining power, but Death simply caught the arm with a cold, unfeeling fist, before pulling the swordsman closer and slicing off his arm.
“No…” Guts murmured, weak, as he fell to the ground, the stumps that used to be arms bleeding out and ruining the picturesque countryside.
“No…this isn’t…over yet.” Guts whispered, dragging himself forward by his teeth as Death looked with a gaze of indifference.
“It was over before it had even begun.” Death corrected, before retrieving his scythe and stabbing downward with incredible force, piercing through Guts’ stomach like it was paper, and stringing up the limp body on the scythe, a grim marker of the Reaper’s treatment of the damned.
As Death turned to walk away, Guts stirred once again, weakly inching forward along the scythe’s blade until he detached himself, falling to the ground in a bloodstained heap, and inching forward once again.
Surprised, Death turned and shook his head. “Very well.”
With his remaining scythe, Death leaped into the air and stomped down hard on Guts’ head, smashing it into a grisly stain. Not quite finished, Death recalled his other scythe, and began hacking away at the berserker’s body.
First the arms were chopped into bloody giblets. Then the legs were hacked to pieces. After that, the torso was reduced to a fine red mist. Eventually, all that was left were the unrecognizable million pieces of flesh and entrails that used to be Guts, the Black Swordsman.
With his task done, Death summoned a murder of crows once more, and had them whip up a powerful whirlwind, blowing the discarded chunks of flesh to all four corners of Midland, a red sun stretching over the land of paradise.
The kinslayer stood, scythes in hand, and watched over the horizon in silence.
“‘Was that the last of the Corruption? Will the balance be kept now?'”
“‘Was it worth it?'”
All questions, and no answers. That was how he’d always lived, at the mercy of the Charred Council. And yet, the demon hunter’s words rang in his mind.
“‘Trying to pretend as if you know the struggles of man! You have no idea!'”
Death tried to put it out of his mind, but he couldn’t deny that there was a kernel of truth to those words. He performed his duty, protecting the balance, but did he truly know who he killed on their level? Was it his responsibility to become closer to the departed?
“Despair.” Death commanded, the skeletal horse emerging from the ground and letting loose an unearthly whinny of discontent.
“Let us find out.”
Rider and steed joined together once more, as the duo headed back through the portal.
The Hellguard would need help rebuilding.
: Wow…that was…pretty overkill.
: Had to be done.
: I guess, but, you know. The entrails and gore is definitely a little above the PG-13 moniker.
: True.
: Regardless of the potential scarring of the youth, it does get the general understanding of the victor across in a concise, if overtly crude, manner.
: Yeah…when you get down to it, this was sort of clear-cut, in pretty much every category. Not to say there was NO way Guts could win, we’ll get to that later, but it was definitely far less likely.
: Starting off with-You know what, we always start off with stats. Let’s mix it up and do them last. So, starting with versatility…well.
: Death can equip numerous arcane and physical skills, along with over 30 unique legendary weapons and many more common ones scattered across his world. Guts has a crossbow, a one-use cannon, smoke bombs, a giant sword, and his Berserker armor. There’s a very clear disparity. And while versatility in and of itself does not necessarily guarantee victory, Death having so many tools at his disposal also increases the number of ways he has to finish Guts off, thus making him far more unpredictable.
: And along with versatility to make Mega Man proud, Death also is just far more haxxed in general. His weapons give him the power to drain life energy, boost strength with damage taken, give burn damage, freeze enemies solid, cause enemies to explode, deal extra damage to frozen enemies, slow foes to a crawl, summon allies to deal extra chip damage, weaken the opponent, see the spirits of the dead, protect from major poisons, and much more. By contrast, Guts’ only real hax is the ability to attack the opponent’s soul, which is useful, but nowhere near as reliable as the massive amounts of enemy control Death has.
: Combat experience-wise, Death triumphs once again. Sure, Guts may have been fighting since he was a child, but Death’s thousands of years of fighting as the Reaper gives him far more of a leg-up. And in general, Death’s rogue’s gallery easily surpasses Guts’ in its power. Guts fights average demons, and maybe some higher class ones, but Death fights monsters like Samael, building sized golems like the Guardian, and Absalom, the eldest nephilim and the champion of the Corruption set to consume the universe. You see the difference?
: In terms of intellect, neither is really known for their thinking, but overall Death comes out on top again. Throughout his adventure, he solved many complex puzzles throughout the dungeons he explored, and overall is just much better at exploiting enemy weaknesses to win the day, whereas Guts is much more straightforward in his combat strategies. Which usually works, and he is very skilled with a blade as shown by his duels with characters like Griffith, but Death still has a slight advantage.
: Stamina should be fairly even though. Both have fought hundreds of enemies without rest, so there’s no real edge that can be given here. One area where an edge CAN be given though? Stats.
: Yes, it’s finally time to really put the nail in Guts’ coffin. Starting with strength and durability, Guts should be solidly in the City Block-Multi City Block range, given that he can tank Mozgus’s God Breath and hurt himself, with the Berserker armor boosting his power by an unquantifiable amount. Rather impressive, but mere child’s play compared to Death. Death, as the strongest of the four horsemen, should be superior to his brother War, who toppled the Black Throne spire by destroying Straga, the being who served as the power that held the spire together. As soon as Straga was destroyed, the tower fragmented into pieces. With that in mind, destroying the Black Spire has a yield of about 12.12 to 24.24 Megatons of TNT, or about City Level, a whopping 121,200 times stronger than Guts.
: Speed is kind of difficult to decide, however. Generally speaking, Guts seems to have an edge via his lightning dodging feats at Mach 98 vs Death’s scaling to Fury’s laser dodge at Mach 6.75. However, certain things present in Darksiders 2 may actually make Death much faster. For one, he possesses a weapon known as Mortis, which has the ability to generate a powerful omnidirectional shockwave that “can traverse an entire world in a matter of heartbeats“. And it just so happens that you can actually visit a post-apocalyptic Earth in the game, so we can determine a speed for the shockwave based on how long it would take to traverse the planet, which averages out to about Sub-Relativistic speeds. And then there’s this guy:
: So let’s add this up. Gut’s win condition is his speed(kinda) and Dragonslayer’s ability to attack the soul. Death’s win conditions are his monstrous strength and durability, his abilities weakening Guts while strengthening Death, and holding most of the secondary and tertiary categories. Both have ways to win, but Guts’ are far more limited and not as easy to pull off as Death’s. But there is one more element to Guts to discuss: the Berserker Armor. And quite frankly, it changes basically nothing. Even with the armor, Guts still gets one-shot by Death, and the armor doesn’t really protect him from getting hacked to pieces. He’s not Deadpool.
: So, that’s that. With greater strength, durability, versatility, powers, and combat experience, Death proves why he’s known as Executioner, yet again.
: I guess this was a really well-executed battle, after all.
: Hey, not bad! Death-initively your finest work, I’d say!
: The winner is Death.
+Stronger
+More Durable
+More Versatile
+More Hax
+Smarter
+Larger degree of combat experience
=Stamina
+/-: Technically slower, but can close the gap with his weapon attack speed
-Is susceptible to Guts’ soul manipulation via Dragonslayer
+Can bypass durability to an extent with Dragonslayer
+Berserker Armor lets him stay in the game much longer despite his weaker physicality
=Stamina
-Weaker
-Less Durable
-Less weapons
-Has almost no hax
-Not as intuitive in terms of combat strategies
-Hasn’t been fighting as long as Death has+Note: Death may be far stronger than what is listed here. He was able to defeat the Guardian, which severely injured Eidard, a maker. Makers are said to have used their forges to create the realm of heaven, hell, and the third Kingdom of Man, but whether the realms are planets or universes, or whether this can scale to Death, is too vague at this point. Fury, a weaker sister of Death, was also capable of defeating Abraxis (an entity that needed to be defeated in order for the Earth to remain “intact”, implying he could either destroy the surface of or outright blow up the Earth), and the Lord of Hollows, who would have “hollowed out the Earth. These two statements are rather vague overall, but show that a City Level feat is likely not the limit Death can showcase.
+Note 2: There are better feats present in Berserk, such as the numerous storms created by Griffith, but as of right now Guts cannot scale to these feats. In the future, he may (and likely will) be able to.
+Note 3: There is a cloud dispersion feat that is far higher than Guts’ other feats, but the feat is not consistent with Guts’ other high-effort showings. Plus, if this feat were to be considered, then Death’s possible higher-end feats would still be superior overall.
Epilogue…
A faint twinge of nostalgia tugged at Death as he walked through the halls of the Dead City. After all, it wasn’t so long ago that he had made his first journey here, to seek out the Crowfather and murder the demon that kept the souls of the dead shackled.
As Death laid his hands upon the doors to the inner sanctum, he paused to recollect his thoughts. Then, he swung the heavy iron doors open and walked inside.
The city looked rather inviting, admittedly. Small houses for the deceased surrounded Death on all sides, and he could even see a few dead children playing across the room, floating towards each other and wrestling with an ethereal ball.
“Hmm.” Death mused, as he walked past and stood at the dais in the center of the room.
“Crowfather!”
Opposite him, Death could see a swirling mass of ghostly energy pooling together, reshaping itself, until at last the familiar spectral guardian of secrets floated before him.
“Yes?”
“Is he here?”
“Oh, yes. He came here some time ago. His death was not a gentle one, which could only mean you put him out of his misery.”
“It was what I needed to do.”
“Needed? Or desired?”
“You know I do not kill out of vengeance, Crowfather.”
“Hmm. And yet it was your desire for retribution that began your quest to stop Corruption, was it not?”
“Justice and vengeance are not alike.”
“But they so often can be, when you lose sight of your purpose.”
“What are you playing at?”
“Nothing, Horseman. I do not seek your demise. I simply ask that you understand, before you see him.”
“…Very well, Crowfather.”
“Good, good. Now, follow me…”
A stone bridge assembled itself from the ether, leading to a small hut on the other side of the abyss. Undeterred, Death raced across, swiftly grabbed onto the side of the hut, and hurled himself upward, searching for the spirit.
It took about a minute of work, but eventually Death saw the telltale blade. With deft precision, he swung himself through the door frame and landed on the wooden floor with a soft creak.
The sound didn’t go unheard, as Guts pulled out his Dragonslayer, prepared to battle once again.
“Settle down. I have no intention of fighting you. The corruption seems to have died with your body.”
“…Then why have you come? To insult me? You’ve already denied me my life’s goal, feel free to twist the blade in further-“
“I want to know your story.”
“What?”
“I know you are not truly evil. Corruption can make anyone succumb to their lowest tendencies. But you clearly had a goal, or you wouldn’t have fought so hard to keep yourself alive. I simply wish to know what it is.”
“Well…how do I know I can trust you with this knowledge?”
“I met someone like you before. A soldier, fighting against the armies of the demon lord Belial. He trusted me with retrieving his soul, even when it wasn’t lost. And he trusted me with his final wish. I hope you can trust me, as he did.”
“…Griffith.”
“That’s who I was trying to find. He is too dangerous to be left unchecked.”
“I see.”
Death stood up and headed for the door.
“Wait!”
“Be patient. I’ll speak to the Lord of Bones on your behalf. Perhaps you can get a second chance.”
Understanding the meaning behind Death’s actions, Guts nodded, and sat back down, lost in thought. By the time he looked back up, the reaper was gone.
Stepping back into the outside world, Death mounted Despair once again.
“Dust, lead the way.” Death commanded, the crow nodding in assent before taking off towards the Tree.
“One last time.”
JJ's Writing Corner 
