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Puck gasped. “She’s controlling them!”

“Puck,” he said.

“What about you?”

Griffith.

From the shadows behind the altar, children emerged. Dozens of them. Their eyes were hollow, their mouths sewn shut with black thread, and each one held a rusted knife. They moved in a shuffling wave toward Guts, silent as snowfall.

The rope holding the bell snapped.

The wind picked up again, colder now. In the distance, a hawk-shaped shadow passed over the clouds—too large, too wrong, too familiar . berserk.manga

Guts turned away.

Puck zoomed ahead, became a faint glow against the gray. He returned quickly, face uncharacteristically grim. “Standing, but… you should see it.”

He walked into the darkening woods, the brand on his neck throbbing a dull, rhythmic ache. Behind him, the children’s sobs faded. Ahead, the trees grew twisted, their bark weeping sap like amber tears. Puck gasped

He’d dreamed of it the night before—not the Eclipse, not the brand’s searing chorus of damned souls, but something quieter. A memory wrapped in thorns: Griffith’s voice, soft and certain, saying “You are the only one who made me forget my dream.” And then the snow, the blood on white feathers, and the scream that wasn’t a scream.

Or what was left of it. The steeple had been punched inward, as though by a giant’s fist. Inside, the pews were stacked into a crude throne, and on that throne sat a woman whose beauty was a blade—pale hair, lips the color of a fresh scar, and eyes that held the same hungry patience as a spider at the center of its web.

They found the church first.