Berserk: A Retrospective
I was born in 2002, meaning my final year of high school occurred during 2020 when COVID-19 first hit. I graduated a semester early with the intent of working for the semester, but that didn’t happen because of quarantine. Though I spent a lot of time with my family and writing, I also ended up with a new hobby: reading lots and lots of manga.
It started with JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure. I watched all of Part 1 in two days, became absolutely addicted, and began plowing my way through the anime. But since Part 6 hadn’t come out yet, I switched to the manga beginning with Stone Ocean. I fell in love with the visual style, powers, intricate backstory and lovely character relationships. At a friend’s recommendation, I decided Hunter x Hunter could be my new “quarantine show,” and it became one of the best anime I ever saw. Once I finished the Election Arc, again, I switched to the manga. With One Piece, I didn’t even bother with the anime. I’d heard fans raving about the manga, so I jumped right into that, and I’ve been a loyal fan ever since.
But out of all of these stories, one came that blew me away. It was entirely unlike the others I was reading at the time, but I was captivated by its characters, backgrounds, artwork, action and emotional style of writing. That manga was Kentaro Miura’s magnum opus, Berserk.
It’s not a coincidence that every one of these manga is…well, quite long, to understate it a bit. Hunter x Hunter has been running since 1997 and is at close to 400 chapters at the time of this writing. One Piece debuted the same year, but with no significant hiatuses and only regular breaks, it surpassed 1000 chapters and is approaching its endgame. JoJo’s has been running since 1987, and Berserk has been running (albeit with many breaks) since 1989. I think there’s just something about long, epic fantasy series that are so captivating to me, and it’s not exclusive to manga either. It’s the same reason that I’m fascinated with The Wheel of Time, The Stormlight Archives, Star Wars and A Song of Ice and Fire.
At the time of writing this essay, Chapter 364—titled “A Tear of Morning Dew”—came out nearly half a year ago. With Miura’s passing (rest in peace), there’s nothing to indicate that the story will continue. I’ve been putting this one off for a while, but after writing retrospectives for Final Fantasy 7 Remake, Devil May Cry 5, Sword Art Online and Young Justice, I think it’s finally time for me to tackle one of my favorite stories ever.
In this essay, I will be discussing my favorite parts of Berserk, namely the character dynamics. But I’ll also be spending some time on what influenced Miura’s masterpiece, and how it influenced the fantasy genre in turn.
Without further ado, let’s get into it.
Berserk is Every Fantasy Subgenre:
I’ve always found Berserk fascinating because it never seems to cleanly fit into any particular genre “box.” I’ll admit, some of that is just my own bias on the subject—Miura was a middle-aged fantasy writer from Japan who self-admitted to writing Berserk in part because Japan had so few other fantasy manga at the time, whereas I am a 20-something living in the west who grew up in a culture oversaturated with fantasy of all shapes and sizes. But nonetheless, I still believe that Berserk is a story that intentionally defies the conventions of the fantasy genre, using its tropes and cliches as more of a suggestion, deconstructing and reconstructing them in equal proportions.
In my time as a consumer (and occasional writer) of fantasy, I’ve noticed four main subgenres to this massive genre:
High Fantasy is what most people think of when they hear “fantasy.” Heavily inspired by the works of JRR Tolkien and carrying a lot of his Norse influences, High Fantasy refers to epic stories of good-vs-evil in a world usually inspired by medieval Europe. High Fantasy stories often have nonhuman races (with elves, fairies, dwarves, orcs, goblins and halflings being the most common); massive casts; and mysterious “soft” magic, though modern fantasy authors often go for “harder” magic systems instead. Dungeons & Dragons campaign settings are usually somewhere between Heroic Fantasy and High Fantasy, and other stories in this subgenre include The Stormlight Archive and The Wheel of Time.
Low Fantasy stories are all much smaller in scale and more character driven. Low Fantasy encompasses grounded stories that minimize the supernatural elements, often swapping out dragons, elves and magic for politics, drama, romance and character development. (But that’s not to say that those things can’t exist in High Fantasy, nor is that to say that supernatural elements cannot exist in Low Fantasy.)
Heroic Fantasy exists somewhere between the two. It still has the smaller scale and character-driven style of writing, but keeps all of the magic of High Fantasy and all of the character archetypes. Heroic Fantasy also has numerous subgenres:
Sword and Sorcery is a subgenre. It keeps that same small-scale style of writing and the larger-than-life setting, but the distinction lies in the protagonist. Sword and Sorcery main characters tend to be outsiders who act largely out of self-interest instead of the goodness of their heart. Sword and Sorcery is extremely action-heavy, and it was popularized by Conan the Barbarian.
The Sword and Sandal subgenre is the Mediterranean / Roman equivalent of Sword and Sorcery, and Wuxia is the Chinese equivalent.
If Low Fantasy is the antithesis to High Fantasy in terms of structure and scope; Dark Fantasy is the antithesis to High Fantasy in terms of tone, morals and themes. Dark Fantasy emphasizes brutality, moral ambiguity and never-ending violence. Because the only qualifications for this subgenre are subject matter and tone, as opposed to narrative structure or worldbuilding style, Dark Fantasy can overlap with High Fantasy, Low Fantasy, or even Horror. Souls, Warhammer 40k and the works of HP Lovecraft are some of the most well-known examples.
Obviously, this is not an exact science. Many series, like A Song of Ice and Fire, arguably fall into more than one category, and the lines that separate these can be blurry.
Berserk is often touted as a dark fantasy masterpiece. The pages of Berserk depict a world rife with unnecessary conflict, brutality, greed, lust, sadism and gore; these images are often the chief inspiration for stores like Dark Souls and Bloodborne (which I’ll get more into later), but these images are only part of the story.
Really, Berserk cannot be put into any one box because it is simultaneously every fantasy subgenre. Let me explain, and if we arrange this chronologically, it will make more sense.
In the Golden Age, the focus is squarely on Guts, his budding romance with Casca, and their complex friendship with Griffith. While the battles are epic and larger-than-life, we only care about these battles because we care about the people fighting in them. The Battle of Doldrey isn’t just a good setpiece, it’s a chance for these three to evolve as leaders and people. The supernatural elements are kept to a minimum, leaving more room for Miura’s character-centric, emotionally-resonant style of storytelling. In essence, this is a low fantasy.
The ending of the Golden Age and the entirety of the Black Swordsman and Conviction arcs are dark, dreary pieces. The cynical tone, graphic violence, Gothic imagery and Hollywood influences have blended together to create a work of dark fantasy. The fact that the manga begins with the Black Swordsman arc is probably why Berserk is often thought of as (and marketed as) a dark fantasy piece, even though much of the Golden Age—again, the most well-known arc—doesn’t really fit into that mold. In these arcs, Miura depicts Guts as a hypermasculine and violent anti-hero, but these traits don’t make Guts “cool,” they make him a broken, depressed and traumatized man.
Starting from the Falcon of the Millennium Empire arc, Berserk started showing off more species that were neither human nor Apostle. Fairies, trolls and golems all started showing up, and with them, they brought more idealistic characters that Guts took on as companions, like Serpico, Farnese, Schierke and Isidro. Guts—once the leader of a mercenary band, then a lone wolf looking for revenge—was effectively the captain of a D&D group. Despite these common fantasy tropes, the Falcon of the Millennium Empire is still effectively a character-driven story first and foremost, so it is a heroic fantasy.
However, right at the end of the arc and into the beginning of the Fantasia Arc, the scope of Berserk suddenly exploded without losing any of these supernatural elements (if anything, the Roar of the Astral World doubled down on them). Combined with the war against Ganishka and Griffith’s ever-increasing ambitions, Berserk essentially became a high fantasy.
I’ve often heard it being said that Guts is one of the most dynamic characters in manga history, someone who can’t be neatly classified as a hero or an anti-hero, and I think the above description illustrates why. His goals, friendships and view on life are changing so much from arc to arc that he doesn’t even resemble the person he was when Berserk began publication. Berserk is fundamentally a story told from Guts’ perspective, and so to emphasize the change in Guts, the world changes with him. It leads to a story that seems so fluid and flexible when looking back, but in the moment, each genre and each tonal shift flows seamlessly into the next.
Miura’s Influences:
Much has already been written about the many stories that influenced Kentaro Miura, so I’ll keep this section brief, but it’s still something I want to cover.
Berserk has always been a story that defies expectation and categorization. We can fall it “dark fantasy,” but that’s only part of the story. Similarly, we can call it a “seinen,” but that doesn’t do it justice either, because its structure encompasses so many different tones and ideas. In fact, I would argue that because Berserk is inspired by so many different types of manga, it evolved to encompass all four major subgenres of fantasy.
For those that don’t know, manga are often sorted by their demographics, with different magazines specializing in a particular demographic. (Though, in some cases, magazines like Gangan Powered and Comp Ace publish in more than one demographic.) The industry recognizes four main demographics:
Shonen is the most popular demographic. Shonen translates to “young boy,” and it is marketed towards young men. However, that’s not to say it is the equivalent of kids shows in the west; when I say young men, I’m specifically referring to 12-18 year olds. I’ve written extensively about Shonen manga in the past, but due to the influence of Dragon Ball, most Shonen manga are action stories with a heavy emphasis on martial arts, fantasy, social bonds and unique superpowers. Examples include: Dragon Ball, Hunter x Hunter, Yu-Gi-Oh, Naruto, One Piece, etc.
Shojo is the female equivalent, marketed towards girls and young women 12-18 years old. Shojo tends to have a greater emphasis on romance, but more so than that, its narratives are often more dramatic, emotional and character-driven. Examples include: Cardcaptor Sakura, Sailor Moon, The Rose of Versailles,
Seinen is manga marketed towards older men, older than 18 years. Seinen manga often explores more taboo themes and tends to be either more sexual, more violent, or both. Examples include: Vagabond, Tokyo Ghoul, Battle Angel Alita, Battle Royale, etc.
Josei is the female equivalent of Seinen manga. Josei manga is geared towards women older than 18, though elements of it spillover into Shojo. Josei is characterized by a realistic (and often sexual) style of storytelling. Examples include: Hirano and Kagiura, Black Canvas, Chihayafuru, Kaze Hikaru, Pet Shop of Horrors, etc.
Now, the lines between these various series are blurred, and these four terms refer to primary demographic, not actual story content. Death Note is a psychological thriller more akin to Seinen, and Fist of the North Star was a bloody action series, but both were published in Weekly Shonen Jump. Tsubasa Reservoir Chronicle is a crossover series by well-known Shojo artists CLAMP, but it is technically a Shonen. And lots of Josei is written with the intent of younger readers enjoying it.
Even though the lines are blurred, we can draw trends between them, and Kentaro Miura knew this. In the beginning, he intended for Berserk to be a violent Shonen series akin to Fist of the North Star. A 46-page prototype was created in 1988 with a more Shonen-style of writing, and though it's solid, it also feels very much like a prototype for a greater work, held back by cliches and tamer violence. When Berserk began serialization a year later, it was a much darker beast: bloody, gory and filled with sexual content, Berserk seemingly relished in its newfound Seinen status.
But that’s not to say Berserk was now a surface-level power fantasy, sold only on the premise of how gory it could get. As much as Miura loved all the ways he could draw the human body being torn to shreds, he also had a love for the emotional side of storytelling, particularly the drama, politics and romance of Shojo series like The Rose of Versailles. While he didn’t get a chance to explore those elements in the Black Swordsman Arc, those same elements came to the forefront in the complex Golden Age Arc. (Which is also where Berserk temporarily became a Low Fantasy. A lot of the conventions that characterize Low Fantasy also characterize Shojo manga.) We can see this in Griffith navigating through the snakeden of Midland’s court, Guts questioning his purpose in life, and the blossoming, tender romance between him and Casca.
As you read the manga, more and more influences begin to show. Miura is an obvious scholar of both cinema and history: his larger-than-life artwork has all the detail of historical armor and weaponry, but all the scale of a cinematic epic. The Conviction Arc was heavily inspired by the 1986 historical film The Name of the Rose and the loosely-defined “Sekaikei” genre of Japanese media, a genre of stories built around the relationship between two characters. The Falcon of the Millennium Arc is an obvious homage to the Millennium Falcon of Star Wars, and the Godhand are all named after classic science-fiction novels.
It’s easy to look at Berserk and only see half of the story: the grimdark, horrifying tale of a one-eyed man looking for revenge. But to do so ignores the humanity of Berserk, the wide influences of its talented author, and the dynamic characters that make up this story.
Guts vs Griffith:
Berserk might be one of the most thorough explorations of foils I’ve ever seen in fiction. One of my favorite parts of this story was the yin-and-yang dynamic between our hero, Guts, and our villain, Griffith. Anyone who reads this story, especially the later arcs, will be immediately aware of what I’m discussing.
I wrote an entire essay about this, but for those that aren’t aware, a “foils” in fiction are two (or more) characters who are written in a particular way so as to juxtapose with one-another. Foils can fulfill a number of narrative roles: rivals, antagonists, allies, even love interests. Traditionally, foils come in one of two categories: they are either complete opposites in every way, or they are only opposites in one way. The former strategy is extremely satisfying when both characters are fleshed out, but extremely difficult to implement correctly. The latter strategy is much better at drawing attention to specific themes, but this also makes it a writing technique with obvious limits.
Miura made the decision to go with the first method, writing Guts and Griffith as complete opposites. And throughout the Golden Age Arc, he does everything in his power to convey this idea to us.
Where Guts is brutish, tall and muscular, with black spiky hair and a vaguely Asian skin tone; Griffith is slender, feminine and much shorter, with long white hair and pale skin.
Guts uses his overwhelming strength, massive weapon and improvisation to defeat most allies. Griffith uses a thin sabre and pre-crafted strategies to strike his opponents strategically. They both end fights quickly, but they do so in very different ways.
Throughout the story, Guts struggles against his destiny as a branded sacrifice, while Griffith’s powers were all preordained by destiny.
Guts is extremely blunt and honest. Coupled with his lack of tact, this makes him seem like a total asshole, but he’s a genuinely nice guy and a great leader, who genuinely cares about his friends as if they’re family. Griffith is a manipulative, dishonest sociopath. He’s an expert at navigating social situations to make himself seem as desirable as possible, and though he conveys the image of a man fighting for the people, he only cares about himself.
Griffith does what he does in fulfillment of his dream, which is only an extension of his greed and self-interest. Guts’ entire arc in the Golden Age is that he has no dream, but once he does get one, his dream is to protect people.
Guts was raped as a child and hates rapists. Griffith sold his body consensually (but regrettably), and then became a rapist.
And yet, the very differences that made them such hated enemies also made them such magnetic friends. It was these differences that made Griffith feel so magnetic to Guts, and these differences that made our favorite Black Swordsman intoxicating to Griffith. But Griffith’s pride and insecurities prevented him from voicing his feelings, and Guts assumptions led to him suppressing his own. Ultimately, the same differences that brought them together drove them apart, and it was these differences that ultimately led to Griffith betraying Guts in the pursuit of power.
The Love Triangle:
But the dichotomy between Guts and Griffith, clear as it may be in a vacuum, becomes complex and murky with the introduction of a third character: Casca.
The Golden Age arc of Berserk is often thought of by many as the pinnacle of Miura’s writing, and the series as a whole. In my humble opinion, I don’t agree with this assessment—I personally think Miura peaked with the Conviction and Falcon of the Millennium Arcs—but I can see why many people think this. Some of it almost certainly has to do with the fact that Berserk’s best adaptation is of this arc; but even without that variable, the Golden Age arc is some of the best character writing in manga, and it is all because of these three characters.
From the get-go, the relationship between these three was complicated. I’ve often heard others describe these three as a “love triangle,” and I think that’s fitting…somewhat. I generally detest love triangles because it almost always boils down to Character A and Character B falling in love with Character C, but A and B have no relationship with each other outside of animosity. Luckily, Berserk is a rare series where every member of the love triangle is interested in every other member of the triangle, and there’s no one character who is in the “center.”
Griffith is slowly breaking under the weight of his dream. Pre and post-transformation, he has to put up the image of a perfect strategist and leader fighting for the good of the people, but to meet his goals he has to resort to secretive, under-handed methods. In the Golden Age, he constantly had to keep his guard up around everyone except for Guts. Because Guts never actually wanted to join the Hawks in the first place, he had no preconceived notions about Griffith, so Griffith feels comfortable lowering his guard around Guts and showing him his secretive, vulnerable and dishonorable sides. He can’t do that with someone like Casca, who puts him on a pedestal. Also, despite what Griffith told Princess Charlotte, his tendency to view people as equals isn’t so much based on whether they possess a dream, per say, but rather how independent they are from him. Casca obviously does have a dream, but her dream is to be a subordinate, so he can’t consider her an equal. But Guts is so unapologetically himself that as far as Griffith is concerned, he doesn’t even need a dream to be an equal.
Casca has lived her entire adolescence in Griffith’s shadow. She truly loves him, because he’s the one that saved her. But it’s all an illusion, a shallow love born from her attempts to repay the man who saved her. She’s fallen for the perfect image that Griffith projects, not the vulnerable version of himself underneath that. That’s not to say that Casca wouldn’t love Griffith’s vulnerable side if given the chance, but after their night in the river, Griffith refuses to show that side again. I’m also inclined to believe that Casca is well-aware that Guts is a foil to Griffith, and she acts thorny around Guts for so long as a subconscious response to her feelings for Griffith. After all, she loves Griffith, so it makes sense for her to hate the guy who’s Griffith’s opposite in every way, right?
Guts thinks of Griffith as his best friend, but he completely underestimates how much he means to Griffith. Guts is loyal to Griffith in the Golden Age, but he knows that everyone is. He’s been an outsider and a nobody his whole life, and he’s not afraid of showing his vulnerabilities, so he doesn’t realize how special it is when Griffith shows his vulnerabilities.
________
The end result is that (whether you interpret as platonic or romantic), Griffith is obsessed with Guts, Guts is in love with Casca, and Casca is smitten with Griffith. Their love triangle is in a constant deadlock throughout the Golden Age; these relationships cannot meaningfully progress because each of them is smitten with one and uninterested in the other. All of their identities are so intertwined that they can’t be separated.
When Griffith—Casca’s superior and Guts’ mirror image—is out of the picture, they get to develop their own identities. Guts isn’t just Griffith’s brutish Raid Captain, and Casca isn’t just Griffith’s right-hand. They’re just…Guts and Casca. They are their own people.
Vulnerability and the ability to safely express it is a theme of this triangle. Griffith can be vulnerable around Guts, and he loves him for it. Griffith feels he can’t be vulnerable around Casca, so he can’t return her feelings.
This is why Guts and Casca eventually get together. Once Griffith is out of the picture, they don’t feel so pressured anymore. They can be their own people, and they can both share their vulnerabilities, not just one or the other. Casca teaches Guts he is more than just a sword, and Guts teaches Casca she is more than just a right-hand to someone else.
This also explains Griffith’s venomous fury towards them when he realizes they got together after his capture. Griffith had been subconsciously using both of them: he used Casca as a right-hand, and he used Guts as emotional support. Them getting together means they’ve forsaken their roles in Griffith’s world. He’s obsolete. He’s not needed.
I have no doubt that Griffith genuinely cared for them both, in very different ways. But I also believe this was a selfish love. And if we ever learn what happened to Griffith after he arrived in Alfheim, I believe we’ll learn more about one of storytelling’s strangest, most complicated love triangles.
Berserk’s Impact and Legacy:
It feels fitting that, just as Berserk was inspired by an entire generation of pop culture, it in turn inspired the following generation of storytelling. Nowhere is this more evident than in the inspirations Berserk has on the games of Hidetaka Miyazaki and From Software, the developers behind some of the most critically-acclaimed, hotly-discussed, breathtaking and unique games of the last 15 years.
Most of the inspirations in Demon’s Souls have to do with enemy designs:
The Adjudicator resembles Wyald’s transformed form.
Yuria the Witch resembles Schierke.
The Iron Maidens in the Tower of Latria vaguely resemble those seen in Griffith’s torture chamber; but much more damning, they resemble the ones Mozgus used.
In the “Lost Children” arc, Guts fights a “corpse ball” which spews enemies at him. A similar design is used for the Prisoner Horde, also in the Tower of Latria.
As the game that put them on the map and the lifes work of Hidetaka Miyazaki, Dark Souls is absolutely stuffed with Berserk references.
Siegmeyer resembles Bazuso.
The Moonlight Butterfly resembles Rosine’s Apostle form.
The Snake Lord Guts fought during the “Black Swordsman” arc seems to have inspired the Man-Serpent enemies in the first game, though this could be a coincidence.
The Taurus Demon is a clear reference to Zodd’s transformed state.
The Red Eye Orb is an obvious allusion to the Crimson Behelit.
The Darkwraight Knight enemy from Dark Souls I and III might resemble the Skull Knight, but I’m not completely convinced.
The first game has an NPC named “Rickert.”
The Wheel Skeleton enemy in all three games is heavily inspired by the similar enemies Guts fought on his way to the Tower of Conviction.
The Pharis set of armor resembles Irvine, a member of Griffith’s New Band of the Hawk.
Andre of Astora seems to be Miyazaki’s take on the Godot character. This is a character archetype we will see more of in games like Elden Ring and Sekiro.
The Count’s human form inspired Archdeacon McDonnell, whereas his transformed state inspired Aldrich (both in Dark Souls III).
The Execution Wheel seen in Episode 132 of Berserk seems to have inspired similar wheels in Dark Souls III.
The Sulyvahn Beast is inspired by the Beast of Darkness, and the Ravenous Crystal Lizard was inspired by Grunbeld’s transformed state.
The Undead Settlement’s tree in Dark Souls III seems to be an allusion to Guts’ birth.
And, of course, the Eclipse at the end of Dark Souls III.
I’d also be remiss not to mention the covers of Dark Souls III: Fire Fades Edition and Dark Souls: Artorias of the Abyss, which position Gael and Guts, respectively, in ways reminiscent of Guts. In general, Gael and Artorias are the most obvious Guts references throughout From Software’s history. Gael represents Guts during the Black Swordsman and Conviction arcs: a formidable opponent using a repeating crossbow, consumed by grief because he lost the woman he loved. Artorias, on the other hand, is symbolic of Guts with the Berserker Armor in the Millennium Falcon and Fantasia Arcs: a lightning-quick bruiser who can cut you down in a second, associated heavily with wolves and with one arm completely useless.
Bloodborne only has a few references, but they are still notable:
The Hunter’s Mark resembles the Brand of Sacrifice.
Mergo’s Wet Nurse visually harkens to Rakshas.
Mozgus’ design seems to have inspired the Church Servants. (I’d argue they also inspired the Cathedral Evangelists in Dark Souls III, but I’m not quite as certain about this one.)
Ludwig seems inspired by the possessed horse that tried to rape Farnese.
Given the Japanese setting, Sekiro has the fewest references to Berserk of any FromSoft game. But, its main character is one massive reference. First, Wolf’s name recalls the obvious motif of Guts as a bloodlusted, ravenous wolf. Second, Guts’ revenge and Wolf’s story are both kickstarted by them losing an arm and the person they loved (metaphorically for Guts and literally for Wolf). Third, the abusive relationship between Wolf and his adoptive assassin father Owl seems to be a callback to the Guts-Gambino relationship.
Elden Ring’s references are also few, but they recall a lot of the iconic elements of Berserk’s later arcs.
The massive Erdtree resembles the World Spiral Tree that Griffith made when he killed Ganishka.
Malenia seems to be a combination of Guts and Farnese. Like Guts, she’s an unstoppable warrior with a prosthetic arm. Like Farnese, she wears ceremonial armor with wings on the helmet and has a brother. However, Malenia is devoted to protecting her brother, whereas Farnese is the one being protected by her brother.
Blaidd the Half-Wolf is an obvious reference to Guts in his Berserk Armor…again.
________
Obviously Berserk had a massive impact on more than just From Software, and its impact goes further than mere monster designs. I think it's fitting that for a story so praised because of its characters, most of the Berserk homages are in reference to the designs and personalities of its main cast. Sword Art Online’s Aincrad arc, for instance, follows a loner nicknamed “The Black Swordsman” who reluctantly joins a guild after their power-hungry, sociopathic captain beats him in a duel, where he falls in love with the female lieutenant. In Black Clover, William Vangeance’s World Tree Magic and mask are very obvious homages to Griffith, and Sol and Yuno seem modeled after Casca and Serpico, respectively.
One of Kentaro Miura’s most impressive legacies is that he practically spawned an entire character archetype: the sad, introspective and skilled swordsman carrying a massive blade, who covers up their trauma with a front (whether it be cracking jokes, endless rage or stoicism). We can see the DNA of Guts in characters like Ragna the Bloodedge and Sol Badguy.
But I want to specifically focus on two of the most iconic stories in gaming: Final Fantasy VII and Devil May Cry.
Final Fantasy VII focuses on Cloud Strife, a mercenary hired by the eco-terrorist group AVALANCE to take down a mega-corportation called Shinra, which is destroying their science-fantasy world with pollution. However, this conflict is quickly abandoned in favor of the personal clash between Cloud and Sephiroth, which carries on throughout the rest of the game. He eventually comes to think of AVALANCHE as family, which makes it all the more tragic when Sephiroth kills Aerith during the game’s second act.
This should all sound familiar. Cloud is obviously modeled after Guts, specifically from the Golden Age Arc. Consequently, Sephiroth parallels Griffith: a beautiful, androgynous white-haired man with a katana who Cloud looked up to, but who betrayed him in pursuit of becoming a god. One of Sephiroth’s most consistent character traits—which is seen in games like Dissidia, Smash and Kingdom Hearts—is his obsession with tormenting Cloud, much like how Griffith was obsessed with Guts in the Golden Age. But Cloud and Sephiroth’s backstory is a little different; whereas Guts merely admired and was often intimidated by Griffith, Sephiroth was Cloud’s role model and the reason for him becoming a SOLDIER in the first place.
Both heroes have a sequel story that deals with them unpacking their trauma and caring for those around them, only for the villain to be reborn in some way. In the Conviction Arc, Guts is determined to rescue Casca, in the process befriending a group of allies who fight alongside him when Griffith is reborn. In Advent Children, Cloud is trying to create a new life while mourning for Aerith, and he has to fight Sephiroth once more. To hammer the similarities home, Sephiroth is often depicted as having serpentine eyes with vertical irises, much like Griffith post-rebirth.
________
While Cloud Strife and Sephiroth are reinterpretations of Guts and Griffith from the Golden Age; Dante and Vergil are more literal reinterpretations of the two from the Black Swordsman Arc onwards. During Guts’ years as a Raid Captain, he and Griffith were close as brothers. (One of the most famous tracks in the anime is called “My Brother.”) Capcom and Hideaki Itsuno took this to heart and made Dante and Vergil twins.
Dante is a rebel without a cause: a cocky, crass monster hunter with a blatant disregard for authority. He’s not as rageful as Guts, replacing that with more quips and jokes, but it's obvious that both characters are putting up a front to avoid dealing with their grief. The scene at the end of Devil May Cry 3 where Lady catches Dante crying brings to mind Puck watching Guts cry after he kills the Count and tells Theresia to kill herself. Hell, his story even begins in media res with Devil May Cry, then establishes his character more in the prequel game, just like what Miura did with the Black Swordsman Arc.
Vergil is our Griffith stand-in. An arrogant, self-centered katana-wielding white-haired teenager who embraces his demonic nature in the pursuit of power, just as Griffith embraced his destiny as the fifth Godhand in pursuit of his dream. Just as Griffith’s fighting style is the opposite of Guts, Vergil’s style is the opposite of Dante’s, prioritizing speed and skill with a single blade over raw power or versatility.
But Dante and Vergil twist the Guts and Griffith relationship in an interesting way. Vergil falls into the Underworld and is presumed dead in 3. When he comes back as Nelo Angelo in the first game, Dante defeats him and again, he is presumed dead, only returning in 5. So for the vast majority of the story (and over 20 years in-universe), Vergil is presumed dead and Dante becomes sad and aimless, maturing into his 40s by 5 without any real purpose. Like Guts, he surrounds himself with friends and companions to ease the pain. He even takes on the hot-headed Nero as a partner, much like how Guts took on Isidro as an apprentice. But for much of the story, Dante lacks a purpose.
In essence, Dante is what Guts would have been if he achieved his revenge during the Black Swordsman years: empty, hollow, broken. One might argue that Devil May Cry is a story that exists in response to Berserk, putting forth the central thesis that to a certain degree, Guts needs Griffith to give his life meaning, just as Dante needs people like Vergil to challenge.
Conclusion:
I have no idea if Berserk will ever be continued. If it is, that’s great. But if not, I’ve come to peace with that, and my peace has to do with how whole I felt looking back at the series.
Many unfinished series, like Dune, Vagabond, Hunter x Hunter and A Song of Ice and Fire leave you with an empty longing for the plotlines that will never be resolved. But not Berserk. It was never a story about larger-than-life conflicts or epic battles, it was a story about characters.
Guts is looking for a purpose in life. He thinks he finds that purpose in hunting Griffith. He instead finds it in traveling the world for the sake of his lover. He heals said lover, and her mind is restored. Even without an epic battle between Guts and Griffith, even without learning more about Void or the Skull Knight, that’s enough for me. Because this was always Guts’ story.
But that’s just my two cents on the subject. I hope you enjoyed this essay, and with that, I’m signing off.
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