Episode 5. What Will You Give Me?
It wasn't some divine power like water that brought rain.
This woman was Bercheria, the goddess of weather herself.
She spoke, her long golden eyebrows fluttering like butterflies.
"If I help you, what will you give me?"
The god who had abandoned humanity was asking him.
Everything that had happened to the Periat Empire for half a century began with the absence of Bercheria, the goddess of weather.
The land they inhabited was divided into three continents, each protected by a different god, and had endured for over a thousand years.
The Kingdom of Contana, located below Periat, was protected by Dikfer, the god of the earth.
The Empire of Derians, located above, was protected by Belofai, the god of the sea.
And finally, this very Periat Empire was protected by Bercheria, the goddess of weather.
Then, 50 years ago, as if by magic, the divine protection of Periat disappeared.
The Emperor tried desperately to hide the truth, but it was only a matter of time before everyone learned.
The Kingdom of Contana, known as a barbaric race, launched an invasion as if it had been waiting for it.
The Empire of Derians, unable to miss this golden opportunity, joined in, marking the beginning of a war between the three continents.
Periat, virtually the master of the three continents and a swaying power, endured for three years without divine protection.
But that was all.
Without divine protection to heal the wounded and restore life, they could not endure any longer.
Had it dragged on for another month, the war would have ended in Periat's defeat.
Had Lacrahan not been present, the war would have undoubtedly ended.
He led that brutal war to victory and returned to this land a hero to the people.
People whispered that even if Lacrahan demanded half the country, the Emperor would have no choice but to surrender.
However, his only choice was to escape the Emperor, who held him in check, and return to the north.
Before Emperor Gerard forced the Lacrahan family to relocate near the capital, the North had long belonged to the Adkins family.
That was a given.
Only after losing everything he had in the war could Lacrahan regain it.
When he left, everything he loved was by his side, but when he returned, nothing remained but his people.
If someone asked him what he hated most in the world, he would answer: Bercheria.
After losing his father and only brother in the war, if asked who he resented, it would be Bercheria again.
If asked which god would grant him a wish, Lacrahan would answer that name again without hesitation.
Ask Bercheria to inflict the same amount of pain he had endured, just as much.
“Bercheria. That’s my name.”
Her voice was clear and pure, unbecoming of a god who had abandoned humanity.
“If I help you, what will you give me?”
Beneath Lacrahan’s clenched palm, the sensation of holding that woman came back. In that rain that had cooled the blazing heat.
The thin body, held so tightly that it seemed as if it would break with any force, and the feeling of it sagging limply.
A goddess?
A person so fragile, a ruthless god who had abandoned this northern land.
Bercheria?
“...!”
Just as Lacrahan seemed to move, a sharp sword was pulled from his waist, slicing through the air and resting on her neck.
Bercheria’s eyes tightened.
“Are you expecting me to believe that now?”
Lacrahan’s voice was cynical.
It couldn’t be otherwise.
“Is this why you’ve pretended not to speak until now?”
Even under the dim library lights, her golden eyes remained gleaming, their light undiminished.
But Lacrahan wasn’t foolish enough to be fooled by those eyes simply because they were beautiful.
“Was saving the children ultimately a means to get closer to me?”
Bercheria’s eyes narrowed.
Even with the blade thrust into her throat, she showed no fear.
The sharp blade glinted against her skin, catching the thin light that seeped into her skin.
"You asked what I had for you?"
Lacrahan's crimson lips twisted upwards.
"There is no god in the world who trades with humans. A fake Bercheria."
At that moment, she moved her feet and approached Lacrahan.
"...!"
Before he could react, the sensation of the knife slicing flesh traveled through his hand.
A single drop of crimson blood trickled down from her slender neck.
“What are you doing?”
Blue tendons surged across the back of Lacrahan’s hand, clutching the knife.
As he tried to pull his hand back, she gripped the blade with her bare hand and drove it into her throat with even greater force.
“What the hell!”
Lacrahan quickly pulled the knife back, but her hand was already covered in long scars and bloodstains.
“Ha.”
Lacrahan dropped the knife to the floor and chuckled in disbelief.
Even in this moment, she stared at him with a blank expression.
He couldn’t define what he was feeling.
Even though Bercheria, whom he hated so much, was right before his eyes, and even though he was determined to kill her, he felt as if all his senses had been numbed.
“I was trying to show you this.”
The woman extended her hand in front of him.
And then, something unbelievable happened before his eyes.
The skin that had been cut open by the sword was healing as if by magic.
The bloodstains had evaporated.
“Do you still not believe I am Bercheria?”
Lacrahan’s dark eyes slowly scanned her, their gaze flowing from right to left, tangled with confusion.
“You are right. I am not trying to bargain with you.”
Shining blond hair flowed like waves along her gently tilted head.
“I am threatening you now, Lacrahan.”
Lacrahan’s gaze was transfixed on her red lips, unable to leave.
“Lacrahan Adkins.”
Lacrahan, having just returned from war, had not yet undressed.
His worn armor was riddled with sword marks and dents.
“Your Majesty, the Emperor.”
When he removed his helmet, thin, glossy black hair fell over his forehead.
Despite his rough exterior, the face hidden within the mithril armor was that of a youthful beauty.
Skin that seemed as if it would slip from your hand, delicate features, and even the slick red lips.
“Come closer. Lacrahan.”
Lakrahan put down his dulled sword, worn down by the loss of tens of thousands of lives, and slowly ascended the stairs.
The clanking of his armor echoed throughout the vast banquet hall, where everyone held their breath.
Lacrahan approached the Emperor and knelt on one knee.
It was a fitting tribute to the Emperor of the empire.
“You’ll be eighteen soon, yes?”
It wasn't some divine power like water that brought rain.
This woman was Bercheria, the goddess of weather herself.
She spoke, her long golden eyebrows fluttering like butterflies.
"If I help you, what will you give me?"
The god who had abandoned humanity was asking him.
***
Everything that had happened to the Periat Empire for half a century began with the absence of Bercheria, the goddess of weather.
The land they inhabited was divided into three continents, each protected by a different god, and had endured for over a thousand years.
The Kingdom of Contana, located below Periat, was protected by Dikfer, the god of the earth.
The Empire of Derians, located above, was protected by Belofai, the god of the sea.
And finally, this very Periat Empire was protected by Bercheria, the goddess of weather.
Then, 50 years ago, as if by magic, the divine protection of Periat disappeared.
The Emperor tried desperately to hide the truth, but it was only a matter of time before everyone learned.
The Kingdom of Contana, known as a barbaric race, launched an invasion as if it had been waiting for it.
The Empire of Derians, unable to miss this golden opportunity, joined in, marking the beginning of a war between the three continents.
Periat, virtually the master of the three continents and a swaying power, endured for three years without divine protection.
But that was all.
Without divine protection to heal the wounded and restore life, they could not endure any longer.
Had it dragged on for another month, the war would have ended in Periat's defeat.
Had Lacrahan not been present, the war would have undoubtedly ended.
He led that brutal war to victory and returned to this land a hero to the people.
People whispered that even if Lacrahan demanded half the country, the Emperor would have no choice but to surrender.
However, his only choice was to escape the Emperor, who held him in check, and return to the north.
Before Emperor Gerard forced the Lacrahan family to relocate near the capital, the North had long belonged to the Adkins family.
That was a given.
Only after losing everything he had in the war could Lacrahan regain it.
When he left, everything he loved was by his side, but when he returned, nothing remained but his people.
If someone asked him what he hated most in the world, he would answer: Bercheria.
After losing his father and only brother in the war, if asked who he resented, it would be Bercheria again.
If asked which god would grant him a wish, Lacrahan would answer that name again without hesitation.
Ask Bercheria to inflict the same amount of pain he had endured, just as much.
“Bercheria. That’s my name.”
Her voice was clear and pure, unbecoming of a god who had abandoned humanity.
“If I help you, what will you give me?”
Beneath Lacrahan’s clenched palm, the sensation of holding that woman came back. In that rain that had cooled the blazing heat.
The thin body, held so tightly that it seemed as if it would break with any force, and the feeling of it sagging limply.
A goddess?
A person so fragile, a ruthless god who had abandoned this northern land.
Bercheria?
“...!”
Just as Lacrahan seemed to move, a sharp sword was pulled from his waist, slicing through the air and resting on her neck.
Bercheria’s eyes tightened.
“Are you expecting me to believe that now?”
Lacrahan’s voice was cynical.
It couldn’t be otherwise.
“Is this why you’ve pretended not to speak until now?”
Even under the dim library lights, her golden eyes remained gleaming, their light undiminished.
But Lacrahan wasn’t foolish enough to be fooled by those eyes simply because they were beautiful.
“Was saving the children ultimately a means to get closer to me?”
Bercheria’s eyes narrowed.
Even with the blade thrust into her throat, she showed no fear.
The sharp blade glinted against her skin, catching the thin light that seeped into her skin.
"You asked what I had for you?"
Lacrahan's crimson lips twisted upwards.
"There is no god in the world who trades with humans. A fake Bercheria."
At that moment, she moved her feet and approached Lacrahan.
"...!"
Before he could react, the sensation of the knife slicing flesh traveled through his hand.
A single drop of crimson blood trickled down from her slender neck.
“What are you doing?”
Blue tendons surged across the back of Lacrahan’s hand, clutching the knife.
As he tried to pull his hand back, she gripped the blade with her bare hand and drove it into her throat with even greater force.
“What the hell!”
Lacrahan quickly pulled the knife back, but her hand was already covered in long scars and bloodstains.
“Ha.”
Lacrahan dropped the knife to the floor and chuckled in disbelief.
Even in this moment, she stared at him with a blank expression.
He couldn’t define what he was feeling.
Even though Bercheria, whom he hated so much, was right before his eyes, and even though he was determined to kill her, he felt as if all his senses had been numbed.
“I was trying to show you this.”
The woman extended her hand in front of him.
And then, something unbelievable happened before his eyes.
The skin that had been cut open by the sword was healing as if by magic.
The bloodstains had evaporated.
“Do you still not believe I am Bercheria?”
Lacrahan’s dark eyes slowly scanned her, their gaze flowing from right to left, tangled with confusion.
“You are right. I am not trying to bargain with you.”
Shining blond hair flowed like waves along her gently tilted head.
“I am threatening you now, Lacrahan.”
Lacrahan’s gaze was transfixed on her red lips, unable to leave.
***
“Lacrahan Adkins.”
Lacrahan, having just returned from war, had not yet undressed.
His worn armor was riddled with sword marks and dents.
“Your Majesty, the Emperor.”
When he removed his helmet, thin, glossy black hair fell over his forehead.
Despite his rough exterior, the face hidden within the mithril armor was that of a youthful beauty.
Skin that seemed as if it would slip from your hand, delicate features, and even the slick red lips.
“Come closer. Lacrahan.”
Lakrahan put down his dulled sword, worn down by the loss of tens of thousands of lives, and slowly ascended the stairs.
The clanking of his armor echoed throughout the vast banquet hall, where everyone held their breath.
Lacrahan approached the Emperor and knelt on one knee.
It was a fitting tribute to the Emperor of the empire.
“You’ll be eighteen soon, yes?”
Lacrahan replied matter-of-factly.
“Yes.”
Gerard, with a look of boredom, tapped the dirt from his fingernail with the other.
“I heard you lost your father and brother in the war.”
When Lacrahan raised his eyes, Gerard, who had been staring elsewhere, turned to face him.
The two stared at each other for a moment.
The eyes of the twenty-seven-year-old, who had only learned the world in the imperial court, were shallow.
“I’ve never lost anything. Not once.”
The eyes of the seventeen-year-old boy, who had learned the world too quickly, were impenetrable.
“...If I’m dead, that’s the end of it. Well, it doesn’t matter.”
Suddenly, Lacrahan felt a pang of nausea rise in his throat.
He had sold his soul to the devil to lead this empire to victory.
He had sacrificed countless lives, thinking only of protecting his homeland.
Even when he received a letter informing him that his mother had hanged herself in grief after losing her husband, his only thought was winning this war.
Only then would his family's sacrifice be felt.
But now he saw it: it was a cruel, unrequited love.
Not the Emperor of this land, not the goddess who protected this place, not the Periat.
Nothing here had ever loved Lacrahan.
"Yes. What do you want? Tell me anything. It's the imperial tradition to give war heroes what they want."
In that moment, Lacrahan knew where he must return.
"The North."
To a place that had never betrayed him.
"I want to return to the North."
To a place where there were still people he needed to protect.
"That's all."
Lacrahan was already exhausted, even before he had truly experienced the world.
***
"There is a certain person."
After dinner, Lacrahan sat around the table with his knights.
Lacrahan, who had remained silent throughout dinner, suddenly spoke up.
Wyatt, sitting across from him, wiped his lips with the back of his hand and asked,
“What kind of person is he?”
Lacrahan rested his chin on his hand, tapping his fingers on the table.
“Just some kind of person.”
“...Huh?”
“Let’s say someone risks their life to save someone else. How do you see them?”
When no answer came, Lacrahan looked up.
The Knights, who had been drinking boisterously just moments before, were all staring at him.
“What, why?”
“Grand Duke, do you have any personal feelings for that woman?”
“...Some kind of woman.”
“That woman! I knew it.”
The Knights, who had been drinking boisterously just moments before, were all staring at him.
“What, why?”
“Grand Duke, do you have any personal feelings for that woman?”
“...Some kind of woman.”
“That woman! I knew it.”
“What are you saying?”
Lacrahan rested his chin again, as if it wasn’t worth listening to.
Lacrahan rested his chin again, as if it wasn’t worth listening to.
“Nothing like that .”
Wyatt couldn’t help but jump up from his seat.
“Is it because she’s pretty? Do you like a woman you don’t even know where she’s from, just because she’s pretty?”
“I told you no.”
“I know. I know. She’s so damn pretty. But to betray the Princess you were soon to be engaged to and that stranger...”
Wyatt’s mouth tightened as Lacrahan widened his eyes.
He was always closest to Lacrahan on the battlefield.
Wyatt would describe Lacrahan back then to everyone in a single sentence.
He was the perfect ally, and as an enemy, he was scarier than Lucifer, the King of demons.
“Betrayal?”
Wyatt scratched the back of his neck at Lacrahan’s question.
“That’s what I mean, that’s what I mean... I made a mistake.”
Everyone in the North knew why Lacrahan wanted to be engaged to the Emperor’s sister, Kelita.
The Emperor was extremely wary of Lacrahan, who had returned as a war hero.
If he hadn’t left for the North immediately after the war, he might have been accused of treason and killed.
Like the other nobles in the capital.
"Your Highness, understand. When you worked in the imperial court before the war, you had a crush on the Princess. You can't just dismiss it just because she smiled at you a few times."
"Hey! What nonsense are you talking about? It's not like that, is it?"
Lacrahan tore his gaze away from the noisy Wyatt and looked at Jeffrey, who was sitting right next to him.
Jeffrey gulped down the strong drink in his hand and put down his empty glass.
"Your Highness, do you know something?"
Jeffrey leaned closer to Lacrahan, worried that someone might be listening. Jeffrey, who occasionally blurted out his words, might have been preparing something Lacrahan needed most right now.
Jeffrey gulped down the strong drink in his hand and put down his empty glass.
"Your Highness, do you know something?"
Jeffrey leaned closer to Lacrahan, worried that someone might be listening. Jeffrey, who occasionally blurted out his words, might have been preparing something Lacrahan needed most right now.
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