Griffith Berserk Sword Novels & Stories

He lifted his right hand; a big black sword appeared firmly in his hand, accompanied by a crisp sound. The big black sword had a chilly aura, and it was a purple category weapon.

With the remaining strength of the swordsman, the giant demon finally succeeded in being sealed and turned into a sword with a terrible aura. The sword was locked up and hidden in a mountain in the middle of the desert of death. The desert was so hot that no one could live in it. However, the swordsman and his descendants live and continue to grow under the foot of the mountain. To guard and protect that dangerous sword from the hands of people who are greedy for power. after that great event, the world became more peaceful and serene. The story of the battle of the king who turned into a dragon demon against a swordsman, was immortalized by people into a legend and a story that continues to

Ezekiel's longbow had clear color and along with the clear color, fire and water droplets were scattered. Maximo had a pure black long sword, however, when you look closer, his name was embedded in it and with every swing he makes, fire came out of the sword. The tip of the sword was also pointy. Sirene had two thin swords on her hands and it has beautiful designs embedded in them. Every swing she makes, a yellow glow came out of her swords, and the wind was strangely following her sword, Also, fire came out of her two thin swords that made the wind hotter. Hector had the same size as Maximo's sword. This time, it was pure white and a strange design that matched the sword was embedded in it.

“This is a fine sword! It sure has remarkable craftsmanship!” Bruce exclaimed. Although the sword bore no special likeness, Bruce Starr could tell it was of divine make. As he inspected the blade, Bruce sent some of his energy into the weapon, hoping to test its power. In an instant, the blade roared, and almost immediately started to violently shake in his hand.

I’ll have to do something quick unless this could turn out to be fatal for me, I thought. “Gertrude! I’ve been temporarily blinded and I—” “No! You’ve been permanently blinded by my sword. Do not assume what you don’t know,” Seth said with a wide grin on his face. “I got blinded just by the wind that the sword produced. Gertrude, what is that sword?” I asked worriedly. “Oh, yes! That’s the Kaisen. It’s a sword that cuts through air and makes the air it cuts through as sharp as the blade itself,” Gertrude concluded.

Dragon Slayer (Berserk) Guts started using this sword after the somber "Moon Eclipse". Dragon Slayer was forged by a blacksmith named Godo when he was young and working in a royal castle. Although the large swords that Guts had used previously looked astonishing in size and strength, they were nothing compared to this giant sword.

He was met by his kind smile as Kaylus watched him attentively. "I was watching you." Kaylus looked at him, his eyebrows scrunched on his forehead. "But how? There's no one here though?," he murmured, his eyebrows furrowing further. "Oh! But I did felt some strange tingle on my nape, sire. Like—, like someone was watching me..." His Master chuckled as he clapped his hand once. An object materialized on his right palm. He held it close enough for Kaylus to see. It was a handheld mirror, with gold coating on it's handle and rim.

A crest gleamed on his chest plate: the Moonveil Citadel emblem, a silver wolf's head wreathed in thorns, symbol of an ancient order long whispered in legends. In his grip, he wielded a sword that sang of forgotten forges—a massive greatsword with a blade as long as a man's arm, etched with glowing runes that pulsed like veins of starlight. The hilt wrapped in blackened leather, guarded by a crossbar shaped like crossed fangs, it hummed with arcane power, cleaving through monster hides as if they were parchment. Each swing arced with devastating force, severing limbs and heads in sprays of dark ichor, the warrior pivoting seamlessly, boots sinking into the mire without falter. He fought alon

Stacks of shields, all bearing the black, snarling wolf of his pack. A dozen men worked in the shadows, their forms lit by the red glow of a forge at the far end. The only sounds were the shing-shing-shing of a whetstone on steel, and the low, rhythmic clang of a hammer. "The fang," Ares said, his voice a whisper. It carried in the cold, dead air. He walked to a rack of swords. He pulled one free. It sang as it left the scabbard. It was a long, heavy, vicious blade, gleaming with oil.

"Go, if the bad you see in the land of eregdrix cannot be comprehended, destroy evil with evil!" As he opened his both eyes, he flung his sword down at the ground, striking it with all energy he had in him. The sword struck down at the floors, rearranging the cracked and broken grounds and it vanished. Behold, it stood at the known gate way to Eregdrix and took the form of a man in a white coat, dark hair and brown eyes. "A war bringer, a war taker and a war ender...the morningstar sword." As the sword inhaled the breeze of the air concentrating his breathing towards evil, all hounds that had been seen, suddenly stopped all ongoing activities and rushed towards the creature Raphael forged fr