Trampled and Broken (Completed Main Story) - Chapter 8

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Lion.

There could be no word more fitting to define a man named Aslan in a single phrase.

He was far more often called by his epithet than by his given name, Aslan Kalati.

Barbarian of the North, Elsword’s rabid hound… Most were contemptuous titles.

Yet there was one exception: the Black Lion.

More a title of renown than a mere nickname, it was chiefly used by knights who admired Aslan’s martial prowess and temperament rather than by society figures.

Even Aslan himself, as though it were his very emblem, proudly bore a banner emblazoned with a black lion wherever he went.

The reason for being called the Black Lion was not grandiose.

It was simply because his hair was as black as a winter night devoid even of stars.

Yet his eyes stood in stark contrast.

The moment Hestia pictured his vivid golden eyes in her mind, she felt as if she were locking gazes with Aslan himself.

“Beautiful.”

Hestia, having absentmindedly murmured her inner thought aloud, startled herself and quickly covered her lips with both hands.

‘Was I really looking at that man like that?’

She hadn’t realized it.

How she truly saw him.

At this sudden realization, Hestia felt an unexplained warmth rise to her cheeks and fanned herself lightly to stir a gentle breeze.

Though genuinely surprised, she hadn’t lied.

His eyes seemed almost bewitching—capturing one’s gaze and refusing to let go.

Yet alongside their beauty, they were also frightening.

If one melted the blazing sun itself, perhaps it would yield that exact same hue.

Whenever he fixed those burning, seething eyes upon her…

Her legs trembled, and her mouth went dry involuntarily.

For Hestia, merely meeting his gaze nonchalantly and letting it pass felt like a considerable ordeal.

Moreover, Aslan stood taller and more powerfully built than any knight in Elsword. His forearms alone were thicker than Hestia’s thighs—what more needed to be said?

His sheer presence radiated intimidation even from afar, so she avoided drawing near him whenever possible.

Apparently, her efforts were painfully obvious; each time Hestia distanced herself, Aslan would glare at her with increasingly fierce eyes.

‘It was still a look filled with hatred.’

She herself wouldn’t willingly keep someone she disliked within her sight, yet Aslan stubbornly kept her within his view.

Facing him remained terrifying.

But Hestia couldn’t easily give up on him—the only person in Elsword untouched by the influence of the royal court, the temple, or Anetsa.

‘And…’

It kept echoing in her ears.

〈That wasn’t what I wanted. So please, open your eyes.〉

The last words she’d heard before death…

Aslan’s choked voice, sounding as if he might burst into tears at any moment.

〈…Do it. Because I’ll… for you.〉

‘I wonder.’

What exactly had he said to her?

And what had he promised to do for her as she lay dying?

If she stayed by his side, could she hear those final words again?

Or at least guess what they meant?

Hestia let out a damp sigh, trying hard to compose her emotions.

“Worst case, I break even.”

Taking a deep breath, she reminded herself that she had nowhere left to retreat and silently steeled her resolve.

But soon, she encountered a dilemma.

‘But how do I even meet Duke Kalati?’

Her brow instinctively furrowed, and the ends of her eyebrows drooped downward.

After all, Aslan lived beyond the long wall dividing the South and North.

Hestia had no way to leave the South.

Trending

‘Though I’m both a saintess and a princess, I possess no real power.’

All that remained was her name; even her own actions required others’ permission—a truth that suddenly felt like shackles.

‘They won’t allow me to go north, citing concerns for my safety.’

Likely, this applied not just to Hestia but to most people living here in the South.

Because passage was blocked off, the North became widely perceived as a fearsome place, and nobody even wished to turn their steps in that direction.

Currently, the Kingdom of Elsword was split into North and South by a great wall, which everyone called “the impassable barrier.”

This division wasn’t born of mutual enmity or conflict, but rather necessity due to external circumstances.

Specifically, the anomalous phenomenon originating from the North.

“…Winter.”

Already in its fourteenth year—over a decade had passed without another season gracing the North.

As if trapped beneath eternal snow, endless winter persisted across northern lands.

“What on earth could be causing it?”

Hestia swallowed a sigh and muttered to herself.

This supernatural phenomenon was gradually creeping southward, causing the area known as the North to expand steadily.

Thus, nearly half of Elsword’s territory now fell under the label “North.”

Where winter reigned endlessly, monsters continually emerged.

Fortunately, after the Great Frost several years ago, winter had ceased expanding further south.

Once the cold front stabilized, Southerners erected the wall and chose complete isolation from the North.

It was precisely this situation that allowed Anetsa to be so readily accepted into the temple.

People in the South constantly feared the ever-growing domain of winter.

Thus, they joyfully welcomed Anetsa’s miraculous ability—making grass sprout and flowers bloom wherever she walked—as proof she was a child of the gods.

Just as she finished fastening her bag’s clasp with a heavy heart, something suddenly struck Hestia.

‘…Ah!’

She immediately recalled a way to meet Aslan.

‘Goodness, look at me—I’d completely forgotten about that.’

Aslan Kalati entered the royal palace around this time every year.

It was the only period he could move freely, as “winter’s” intensity was relatively subdued then.

He reported the North’s current state to Yorgos and received hollow praise in return.

Staying anywhere from ten days to a month in his capital residence, the timing for his arrival was just right.

Of course, Aslan rarely attended social gatherings—since his debut, such appearances could be counted on one hand.

Once his audience with the king concluded, he secluded himself in his townhouse and refused to budge.

“Still, it’s far easier to seek him out while he’s in the capital than when he’s roaming the vast North.”

Thus, Hestia had only one conclusion.

“In any case, if I want to meet Duke Kalati, I can’t stay at the temple.”

If there was one place in the capital where he absolutely wouldn’t glance twice, it was precisely here—the temple.

“I’d better leave this place as soon as possible.”

Truthfully, even the archdeacons disliked Duke Kalati.

They seemed to regard him as unclean because he personally fought monsters and was drenched in their blood.

‘Still, just to be safe, I should first confirm whether he’s truly coming to the capital.’

Today, unlike in the past, she had stopped Anetsa from performing her usual actions.

Though seemingly minor, she worried it might trigger unforeseen consequences, so caution was necessary.

Meanwhile, thoughts of Aslan continued trailing her like a persistent shadow, refusing to fade from her mind.

Placing her packed bag aside, she climbed back onto the bed and hugged her knees.

“But that man…”

Resting her chin atop them, she murmured quietly.

“He surely despises me.”

The events right before time rewound flashed involuntarily in her memory.

Though her senses had faded and details were hazy, she knew he’d held her.

Normally glaring at her as if to kill her, acting as though he wanted nothing to do with her…

Yet his rough, clumsy hands had clung desperately to her, unwilling to let her cross the river of death and drift away.

ads

“What exactly did he say in that final moment?”

〈Open your eyes.〉

〈…Do it.〉

〈Because I’ll… for you.〉

No matter how hard she tried to recall, she couldn’t decipher his words.

Thus, Hestia spent the long night wide awake alone,

Wondering what that man—who clearly hated her—could possibly have said, until sleep finally eluded her.

[This is the timeline separator]

Hestia’s temple carriage arrived before the royal palace.

Though there had been minor objections when leaving the temple, timing worked slightly in her favor.

Since Hestia insisted she must fulfill her duties as “princess,” even the archdeacons found it difficult to refuse her request.

Angela was already waiting at the gate, likely because the temple had sent word ahead.

When Hestia stepped down from the carriage, Angela approached with a bright smile to greet her.

“Your Highness! It’s been so long!”

Hestia embraced her warmly and returned the greeting.

“It has been a while, Angela. Have you been well?”

“Of course!”

Hestia felt her heart warm at Angela’s genuine delight.

Though she wished to linger longer in their reunion, urgent matters demanded her attention, so she decided to postpone their joyful catch-up.

“Angela, where is His Majesty? I need to pay my respects.”

“He’s in his office. He specifically instructed that you be brought to him immediately upon your arrival at the palace.”

Yorgos had always been a difficult man to approach. Hestia bit her lip inwardly and took a brief, steadying breath.

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