Because Miura did something remarkable: he showed us a family forged in chaos. The Hawks were not saints. They were killers, thieves, and war orphans. But they were loyal . In a world where the strong prey on the weak, the Hawks built a fragile sanctuary of mutual reliance. Pippin’s quiet strength, Judeau’s unrequited love for Casca, Corkus’ irritable but genuine devotion to Griffith—these small human moments made the Eclipse feel less like a plot twist and more like a personal violation.
In the end, the Band of the Hawk is the cruelest joke in BERSERK . They were a dream that almost came true. A family that was eaten by its own father. And a warning: In the world of BERSERK, the worst monsters are not the ones with claws and fangs. They are the ones you call your leader.
The Hawks’ genius lay in their composition. Griffith was the architect—a tactical prodigy and magnetic leader who wielded his soldiers like surgical instruments. Guts was the battering ram, the "Hundred-Man Slayer," whose brute force and ferocity broke lines that strategy alone could not. Casca, the fierce and loyal swordswoman, was the anchor, holding the unit together when Griffith’s cold calculations threatened to fracture morale. BERSERK and the Band of the Hawk
And then, the Eclipse. To call what happened to the Band of the Hawk a “betrayal” is to undersell its cosmic horror. Griffith, in his ultimate despair, activated the crimson beherit. He sacrificed every man and woman who had bled for him to the Godhand and their demonic apostles. The Hawks did not die as soldiers; they died as offerings —torn apart, devoured alive, and dragged screaming into the vortex of hell.
In the grim, ceaselessly cruel world of Kentaro Miura’s BERSERK , there is no shortage of monsters, heretics, or walking horrors. But long before the eclipsing godhand or the clanking stride of the Berserker Armor, there was a simpler, more human kind of legend: the Band of the Hawk. Because Miura did something remarkable: he showed us
When Guts later rages against apostles and the Godhand, he is not fighting for abstract justice. He is fighting for the memory of the Hawks. Each swing of the Dragonslayer carries the weight of hundreds of ghosts.
For a moment, they flew higher than any hawk. But the sun they flew toward was made of hellfire. But they were loyal
Only two survived: Guts and Casca. The rest became fuel for Griffith’s rebirth as Femto, the fifth angel of darkness.
The Band of the Hawk did not lose a battle. They were not defeated by an enemy army. They were used up by the very dream they served. The friends who shared campfires, who joked about Guts’ brooding silence, who celebrated victories with wine and laughter—they became a canvas of gore. Why does the Band of the Hawk continue to haunt readers, decades after the Eclipse?