Berserk: The Prophet

Seranti lost her mother in the winter when she turned nine, all because of her own 'mistake'. The weakened Seranti was tortured by Arkas. Seranti only remembered that when she last saw her mother, there was a deep whip mark on her face. Her once beautiful and charming face was not only pale and weak, but also covered with broken scars. Her golden hair had turned white overnight, and her sunken eyes were empty, yet they showed a trace of relief.

This time, she finally did not refuse to hold his hands in her slender, thin palms. Perhaps she felt indifferent because she was about to be free.

Seranti watched with heartbreaking tears as his dying mother was carried away by the guards. The elf, imprisoned in the tower, was finally freed at the moment of her death. The iron chains had left deep marks on her neck, wrists, and ankles, and her battered body was wrapped only in a rough linen cloth.

Seranti didn't want them to take his mother's body away, but all he got were the servants' steel shin guards that kicked him hard to the ground. The intense pain in his abdomen and the urge to vomit made him faint, and his little hands could no longer hold onto his mother.

.........

The knights continued to come to Seranty and put him through all sorts of tests, even tests that made him faint from fighting. His father no longer visited him. At first, Seranty was powerless to fight back, but gradually, he mastered their techniques and learned how to dodge and how to fight.

Only when dusk is approaching does he have time to do what he likes, so that the whole day is not filled with violence. Since his mother passed away, he has only liked to paint. His works all have his mother's shadow in them, a canary longing to fly out of the gorgeous cage.

Because my mother always liked to gaze at the scenery outside the tower, looking at the dense forest in the east. Only at this time could I feel that my mother's mood was not so depressed, but full of longing.

Is this the place you want to go? Seranti painted the jungle, staring blankly for a long time until the paint dried before touching it, pressing it against the painting of his mother, and tears fell.

One evening at a private training ground, 14-year-old Seranthi saw his father again, who had come to watch from afar. Acas was accompanied by another knight, whose eyes looked at Seranthi with the same intensity as those of a predator eyeing its prey. At that time, Seranthi did not understand the dirty emotions in his eyes.

Arkas... His mother died because of his abuse; he would never forgive this man. The flame of longing for family affection within him had been fiercely suppressed; he could not forgive this man...

At night, the door to his room was pushed open. Seranti, who was always a light sleeper, rubbed his eyes. Having never faced danger before, he did not know what vigilance meant. It was the first time that someone had opened the door to Seranti's room in the middle of the night. A familiar man walked towards his bedside, and for a moment, he instinctively lowered his guard.

"...Father?" Seranti opened his sleepy eyes and asked with some confusion. That was the last time he called that person "father."

"Two thousand dinars for your bastard son's virginity isn't a bad deal, is it, Arkas? He's just a half-elf, I'll try my best to keep him alive."

"Tch, don't mess things up, or I won't be able to explain to the old guys in the Knights..."

"Don't worry."

Following behind Arkas was the knight he had met during the day. After exchanging a few words, Arkas left, leaving only the knight and Seranti in a room that appeared to be locked.

Seranti suddenly sensed something was wrong and quickly got out of bed, trying to escape, but where could he run to on such a high tower?

After a brief chase, Seranti was quickly pinned to the cold floor by the man...

He struggled desperately to escape, biting at the man's arm with his teeth, only to be slapped so hard he was disoriented. The man grabbed him back, but as a child, he was powerless against an adult. He couldn't hear what the bastard was yelling about... Seranti only remembered that he almost fainted several times that night from the pain.

brute...

Dawn. His body was covered in wounds, and his emerald eyes were filled with long-held hatred. The tears of unbearable pain had dried on his face, leaving only an intense, bone-chilling hatred. He had been betrayed by his so-called father, and he finally understood his mother completely.

Seranti became taciturn and contemplated suicide, but the shame was so clear that the flames of revenge burned fiercely in his heart.

He was unwilling to die like this.

He wanted to take revenge on that man, carrying the hatred that belonged to his mother and the dignity that belonged to him.

A strong thirst for revenge awakened Seranti's will to survive. Day after day, he studied various sword techniques and secretly researched murder methods, poisons, and herbalism when the Knights' library was open.

Plants that were originally non-toxic can be mixed together to form a drug that causes slow death.

However... despite using this method every day to relieve his inner repression and release his desire for revenge, Seranti hesitated to take action until a fuse ignited the conflict between father and son.

Arcas, the man's son, is 18 years old. The maids always say he's a rogue, and they avoid him whenever they pass by.

Although Thranduil didn't want to listen, his hearing, inherited from the elves, was too good. What the man's other son was like was none of his business. It was no wonder that the man's son was a scoundrel. Thranduil sipped his tea and sneered.

Perhaps it was guilt and remorse, or perhaps something else, but Seranti's food, clothing and daily necessities were much better than before, and he was no longer bound by the same shackles as his mother. However, there were many more guards around the room than before to prevent him from escaping.

But that man... Arkas would still occasionally sell his exclusive nighttime rights to others. Many times he wanted to kill him outright, but he didn't want to commit patricide. At the same time, he didn't know how much of a gap there was between him and the man. Every time such a humiliation was inflicted, it would make him work harder to become stronger, enduring it day after day.

But after each raging storm, that piercing hatred would climb upwards like bamboo shoots and vines after rain, extending and growing endlessly until it reached a force that could fight against it. Only the deep-seated hatred of scratching his own skin and tearing flesh from his own arms could barely be suppressed, preventing him from committing the act of patricide. Because the consequence of his failure would be that this unpredictable man would definitely kill him, imprison him, and leave him with no chance for revenge.

Seranti had long sensed the man's growing decadence; his increasingly flabby body and thick white hair were the best proof. His martial arts skills were no longer as refined as before, forming a stark contrast with Seranti's own gradually strengthening physique and martial arts prowess.

I've had the ability to kill him for a long time, so why haven't I done it? I keep deceiving myself by saying I should wait, that my strength isn't enough...

Seranti sat by the window, gazing thoughtfully at the teacup in his hand. His once slender fingers had become rough; even the elves' excellent regenerative abilities couldn't keep up with the daily torment he had inflicted on his body—day after day of wielding swords, shooting arrows, throwing, running...

It seems that only by immersing oneself in endless martial arts training can one temporarily forget one's troubles.

"...Young Master, you can't go in!!"

"Hahaha, what a joke! Isn't it normal for me to come and see my bastard brother?"

"Young Master...you really can't!" *Slap!*

A loud slap landed on the maid's face, knocking her to the ground, where she was unable to get up.

"Get out!!" The boy's voice was extremely irritable. As the door to the room creaked open, a curly-haired boy with an unnaturally pale face and dark circles under his eyes barged in.

So noisy...

Seranti's pointed ears twitched restlessly, and his melancholy gaze turned towards the doorway with an impatient expression.

The man's other son, Stam, was visibly stunned when he saw Seranti's face.

Even though he was the son of a grand duke, he had never seen such a beautiful creature. He, who had seen countless women, was instantly stunned. So beautiful, this was a delicacy that he would never allow anyone else to touch.