Griffith Berserk Novels & Stories

I could see his stronger muscles tense as if he was getting ready to pounce. Fear gripped me at the realization, and I knew I had to do something. If my theories were correct, then any sort of aggression or attack could set off one of Griffin’s episodes and cause his berserk wolf to come out. I had seen Marcus in battle and knew that he was a formidable warrior, but Griffin’s berserk wolf was different. It wasn’t a logical, self-controlled foe. It was a completely animalistic, feral creature that was ruled only by instinct and bloodlust. As much as I knew Marcus excelled on the battlefield, I couldn’t risk him fighting with Griffin’s wolf and losing.

He spun on his heel in a roundhouse kick that slammed into my jaw with the force of a siege hammer, spattering thick saliva and blood across the black ash. A tense murmur rippled through the Northern spectators. I wiped my chin on the back of my forearm, baring my fangs in a savage grin. Pain did not deter me; it only fed the berserker tide burning through my veins like Greek fire. “Is that all your star‑pack teaches, pale dog?” I rumbled, voice rising from the depths of my chest. Varek howled in fury, shedding his aristocratic composure. His body cracked into a terrifying partial shift: jaw dislocating into a lupine muzzle of frost‑white fur, ears sharpening, and thick freezing mist billowi

Unknown to many Jeremy's desire for blood and battle was an addiction he sometimes fought back, the taste of blood, the cut of flesh, the screams of agony, and the risk of death were as addictive as sex to the Lycan. Jeremy was born into the berserk pack of Lycans known as the most unstable and violent kind of Lycans in existence, however, unlike most of his kind, Jeremy was called a genius for his rare ability to suppress his battle desires. With a smirk and wink to Matilda, he spoke "I accept, you sick twisted fuck," "Fuck he's going berserk," Liam spoke nervously chewing on his fingers "What do you mean berserk?, wait...does Jeremy belong to the berserker class?" She asked frantically, sh

Third pov In the depths of the forest, beyond the sacred border stones of Nora’s territory, Erebus gathered with his followers. The flames of their hidden campfire crackled, casting twisted shadows on their clothes and faces. Each of them bore the mark of Griffin—an ancient rune burned onto their wrists in blood and secrecy. Erebus’ eyes gleamed with satisfaction. “She’s grown strong,” he murmured, “but the stronger she becomes, the more vulnerable she is. The orb is waking, and she’s too naïve to control it.”

With a final surge of With a final surge of determination, Marcus and Derek rallied, refusing to let the griffin's momentary advantage break their spirits. They rose to their feet, bloodied and bruised but undeterred. Their eyes locked with the griffin's, and an unspoken agreement passed between them. It was time to end this battle once and for all. As Marcus charged forward, his powerful werewolf form radiated with an aura of primal energy. He unleashed a devastating combination of swipes and slashes, aiming for the griffin's vulnerable spots. The griffin fought back fiercely, retaliating with beak and talons, but Marcus's resilience proved unmatched. His werewolf instincts honed over years

Relief flickers through me, he is okay too. A snarl pulls my attention back just in time. Another Lycan charges from the side. I step forward to meet him, my adrenaline surging, and end it quickly, one sharp blow, and one hard shove. He collapses at my feet. As I straighten, my gaze lifts, and freezes. Griffen. He is in the fight. For half a second the world narrows to just him, moving through the chaos like he belongs there, taking down a Lycan with terrifying efficiency. The sight hits me harder than any blow.

The Helm of Awe covered my left shoulder and on my right was Valknut. Yggdrasil was in the middle and flowing from the roots of the tree was a wolf head. On either side of the wolf was a Jericho 9mm, Kiran’s personal touch to my Zeta mark. From the bottom of the roots, down my spine, was a ghost rune designed by Malachi with my name Jericho adorning the top of Yggdrasil. An hour and a half later Marcus was finished and I put my shirt back on. Tonight I would have to undress with every member of the pack present and shift for the first time in my life.

"That is what happened. The gods were a major part of our lives then. Today, the people have all but forgotten them except in myth and story." "Okaaaay." Liv drew out the word. "We'll go with that for now." Brodi frowned at her but continued. "The gods wanted to contain the power of my family so they cursed us. If the male heir, the pack Alpha, did not find his fated mate within a certain time, he turned into a Berserker. A Berserker is a being who has immeasurable strength but no reason. He kills indiscriminately. He cannot, therefore, lead a clan or pack. He must be put down." Brodi's voice lowered. "Many members of my family were killed over the years by an Alpha who went Berserker before

Merritt murmured, snapping out of her trance. “It’s always been her,” I answered, looking back at Tempest, holding her own against the increasingly violent gusts, the poison thickening the air, and the way my own soul shook with so many enemies about to break through. “Baby, calm down. My love... stop now, it’s okay. Everything’s going to be okay...” I started pushing into her chaotic mind. Griffith was searching for his mate, trying to soothe her in that inner world. “Our baby, I have to protect our baby...”

"To be honest, I'm so injured that I can't even stand straight. Right now, the most my body could handle is one punch. But If you resort to needless violence, I'll have no choice but to stack up my second berserk skill, which I absolutely don't want to do right now." "You think you can take us on with your second berserk skill?" Grisha smirked as she gazed at him in the eyes, "You're pretty arrogant for the leader of a measly party!"