Breeding Season - Chapter 12
A maiden who tamed beasts—Aquafuran. In truth, she was a water goddess born from a small spring.
Though not an immensely powerful deity, she was warm-hearted and loved to be among people, earning her great reverence in the region. The king fell in love with the goddess at first sight and proposed to her. However, Aquafuran refused, for she wished to remain and protect her land.
Harboring resentment, the king, on the final night of the festival, ultimately kidnapped Aquafuran. Not only that, but he slaughtered all the people she cherished and burned the entire village to erase the evidence.
The blood of the innocent seeped into the spring, polluting it. The river turned red, and the ashes of the burned corpses drifted into the sea. The fish that consumed those ashes were the first to change. The birds and people who ate those fish also mutated.
That was how the <Infected> were born, and it took less than a month for the once-peaceful South to transform into a land of monsters.
After that, the rivers of the South dried up, and all springs were laid bare. Words of curses and resentment lingered around every oasis, and soon, even the winds turned parched.
Aquafuran, taken away against her will, witnessed all of this and wept and wept.
And when the water goddess, born from a small spring, could cry no more, even the air in the South grew arid.
The king of Wilkeron at the time ignored the South’s plea to return the goddess. Naturally, he paid no heed to Aquafuran’s own wish to go back.
Instead, in an attempt to curb the spread of the <Infected>, he set fire to the forests. And so, the great desert of Taran, dividing the South and Wilkeron, was created.
As time passed, the South grew more and more desolate.
The land became uninhabitable, and though they pleaded for aid from the royal court countless times, not a single king throughout history had ever helped them.
‘The idea that a desert suddenly formed just because the forest was burned is honestly hard to believe, but the origin of the Infected is probably at least somewhat true.’
And whether it was the truth or not didn’t matter. What mattered was that the people of the South believed in that legend.
“…That if Wilkeron returns the water goddess, the South can become prosperous again… I know they have that belief, too.”
“I see. You’re quite well-informed.”
“I read… books.”
She didn’t know who had left such books there. They were so old that just touching them left specks of dust on her fingers, likely placed on the shelves at least a hundred years ago.
Because their content was entirely different from the teachings of her tutor—who had only ever insisted that Wilkeron was righteous and the South was evil—she had been deeply intrigued.
‘That’s how I found it, tucked away between stacks of books.’
A loose page, as if it had fallen from a book. Scrawled across it, in someone’s handwriting, were several slanted sentences.
Then what became of the beast that had once protected the small water goddess in this tragic tale?
The beast that had forever lost what it was meant to protect—what happened to it?
Did the king truly set fire to the forest only to stop the <Infected>?
Who had asked such a question?
Could this loose page have fallen from the old book she had discovered?
There was no one to provide an answer. The library in the royal castle of Wilkeron had long since lost even its librarians.
In an era filled with pleasures, books were no longer a source of entertainment. Reading was not even encouraged as part of the essential curriculum one was expected to cultivate.
And so, she wandered alone through this forgotten repository of knowledge, searching for the lost fragments of a hidden story.
“Then, are you aware that the South worships three gods and that its ruling class is named after them?”
“Oh, no. This is my first time hearing about it.”
“If you don’t know, then memorize it. The South has only three seasons: the Livable Season, the Moderate Season, and the Season of Death.”
At the mention of the Season of Death, Eltan’s expression became unreadable.
“Each season, a different clan offers prayers to their respective god. Yasamin, the ruler of the South, presides over the rites. Though, of course, there is a separate high priest who conducts the ceremonies.”
Eltan handed over a piece of paper.
Taking it, Siren carefully read through the names of gods she had never seen before.
The Moon God, Kalik.
The Water Goddess, Aquafuran.
The Sun God, Nu.
It was simple enough to remember.
Especially since she was already familiar with Aquafuran.
“The South does not receive rainfall. Water is incredibly scarce, leading to frequent conflicts. The ruling class controls the water sources, and without submitting to their authority, survival is impossible.”
That much made sense—she had observed the people on her way here.
The warriors, often bare-chested, would erupt in joyous cries whenever they discovered a stream, hurriedly filling enormous barrels with water. Having lived her entire life without ever lacking water, such behavior was nothing short of strange to her.
“The current official ruler of the South—the one who holds a position equivalent to what you would call a king—is Yasamin. And you, as the last surviving member of the Wilkeron royal lineage, are the rightful heir to Wilkeron.”
“…Yes.”
“But the moment you return, the ruling clans will carve up Wilkeron’s territory among themselves. That is what they have been supporting Yasamin for.”
