The Berserker’s Second Playthrough Novel - Chapter 101

Chapter 101
Chapter: 101

Chapter Title: Judgment of Atala (4)

—

Kadim collapsed onto a bench of cold rock within the staging zone.

The surrounding combatants recoiled in alarm, moving away with haste. It was more than just the gore coating his body; they had all witnessed his previous performances through the metal gates. It required a bravery beyond the norm to remain near a predator who had butchered twenty-four opponents single-handedly.

Conversely, one individual hurried toward him as though he had been lying in wait.

“Ex-Excellent work, my lord…! To strike down that many warriors all alone—simply incredible! First, please, take this and clean off that blood!”

Duncan moved closer, offering a piece of cloth. Kadim accepted it out of habit, then his brow pinched slightly.

“How did you gain entry to this place?”

“I-I beg your pardon?”

“Aren’t the fighters supposed to be isolated from the public?”

“Ah… well, I suppose they didn’t bar my way since I slipped in unnoticed? They didn’t seem to perceive I was even present.”

Kadim gave a dry, mirthless laugh. The man’s talent for fading into the background remained unrivaled. He wiped away the mixture of sweat and gore from his skin with the cloth, then gestured toward the second object Duncan was carrying.

“This? It is the wine made from grapes I acquired in Gallentana! I was concerned about the climate, but being a young vintage, it has matured perfectly without needing to sit. Your throat must be parched after such exertion—please, have a drink!”

Gore and wine—a striking combination. He took the vessel without pausing.

Yet, as he stared blankly at the crimson liquid swirling within the cup…

A violent urge flickered through his consciousness.

Kadim winced, his teeth grinding together. Curse it… a long interval had passed since he had last tasted the blood of a demon. Not a single drop had crossed his lips since he had brought down that colossal avian terror.

“M-My lord… is something the matter? Is the wine not to your liking…?”

There was no point in causing him alarm. Kadim shook his head and emptied the cup.

Duncan had spoken truly. It lacked a crisp bite, but the vintage had aged just enough to provide a harmonious, aromatic bouquet. He finished it in a single swallow and let out a breath, the scent of grapes lingering. It was not enough, however, to satisfy his craving for blood.

Kadim wiped his lips and cast a sharp look at Duncan.

“Well, what is it you want to say?”

“I-I beg your pardon? Oh, well, you see…”

The man wouldn’t have sprinted over here for a mere greeting. Exposed, Duncan hesitated and stammered before finding his voice.

“…My lord, did I perhaps… overstep my bounds during our last meeting…?”

“In what way?”

“When you were conversing with the Arena King—Yubik the Grand Master—I interfered and… offered that sum of gold on the condition of your victory…”

Yubik had dismissed the amount as trivial, but it was actually a sum large enough to ruin him. Duncan must have come running to seek favor, terrified of having made such a bold move without authorization.

Kadim let out a snort of dark amusement.

“It is of no consequence. If anything, it served a purpose. Did you not pledge me a fortune that would last a lifetime? That amount of gold would fulfill that promise and more.”

Duncan’s anxiety evaporated, replaced by a wide, relieved grin. However, his expression crumbled again at the words that followed.

“Assuming you are capable of transporting it, that is.”

“…”

Duncan fell into a state of deep distress imagining the logistics of moving a mountain of treasure. Even so, he harbored no doubt that Kadim would emerge as the victor.

Kadim observed him in silence for a moment, his features suddenly turning grim.

“Furthermore… I intended to bring that mogul to account one way or another.”

“…My lord? For what reason?”

“He has grown wealthy off this den of filth, transforming a ‘struggle’ into a mere show for the masses. Compelling him to surrender every drop of his tainted wealth would be a just sentence. And once I strike down the fraudulent Great Warrior and retrieve the Judgment of Atala… there remains only one other individual in this city to be dealt with.”

“…And who might that be, my lord?”

“…”

Duncan gulped in trepidation. Kadim’s eyes shifted toward a shadowed corner in the distance. He provided no name. Duncan shifted uncomfortably before taking the cue to depart.

Now solitary after dismissing the trader.

He stood up slowly and walked further into the bowels of the facility. Passing the perimeter of the waiting zone, he stepped into a lightless, forbidden area. At its heart sat the stone monolith carved with ancient runes that he had discovered previously.

Kadim planted a foot upon it, staring down with a heavy, intense gaze.

“Are you listening, Witch of the Wilderness?”

There was no reply.

“The Great Warrior of Atala has come back.”

His voice echoed with a solemn weight regardless of the silence.

“You shall pay a heavy price for forsaking your duties as a messenger and for exiling the Great Warrior.”

Goltaran, the Furious Horn of Agon, scowled deeply at his companion.

“What has come over you, Witch?”

“…”

“If there is a problem, speak it. You have been in this state for days—do you expect me to believe nothing is wrong? Are you attempting to trick the man chosen as Atala’s Great Warrior?”

“…N-No, truly, it is nothing. Do not trouble yourself… Simply focus on your restoration with the elixir, Great Warrior…”

Nearly two decades had passed since their first meeting. Goltaran was well aware that this woman was far more resilient and energetic than her appearance suggested.

But since that peculiar event recently, she had transformed. For several days, she had been breathing with difficulty and shivering violently, as if the weight of hundreds of forgotten years had suddenly crashed down upon her.

He could no longer turn a blind eye to it. He relied on her heavily, both for guidance and for his needs. Yet she only persisted in her denials, refusing to offer a proper explanation.

“Is it an ailment of the body? Or perhaps this sanctuary? Or has something terrible occurred in the world outside?”

“…”

“Confound it! Speak! Give me an answer! How am I to focus on my healing otherwise?!”

Boom!

Goltaran’s patience snapped, and he struck the ground with his fist. The glowing flora and thickets trembled, and ripples raced across the surface of the receding golden pool.

But as the echoes died away, the witch suddenly sat upright, her gaze fixed on the ceiling.

A new wave of terror filled her clouded eyes.

“Oh no… gods preserve us.”

“…What has happened?”

“Y-Your people are being hauled away… The captives you once vowed to liberate… bound in chains, beaten without mercy as they are driven toward the northern reaches of the city…”

Goltaran’s features contorted with rage.

He had dedicated half his life to the arena for the sole purpose of ending the contempt for those of Atala and freeing his imprisoned people. Regardless of the circumstances, he could not remain still if this was occurring.

Goltaran rose from the pool, shook the moisture from his frame, and pulled on his garments. The witch stammered in a state of panic.

“N-No, Great Warrior… You are departing this instant?”

“I am.”

“N-Now is not the time—stay a while longer! Your strength is not yet restored, you are unaware of the dangers outside, and furthermore…”

“So I am meant to lie here in this bath, watching as my brothers and sisters are sold off?”

“…”

“…I will hear the truth of why you have been shivering like a frightened animal when I come back.”

He pulled his horned helmet down, took up his battle axe with its shimmering dark edge, and marched toward the exit of the ruins.

The Witch of the Wilderness did not move from her place. Her withered frame seemed bound to the earth. She tasted the bitter venom of the dread rising in her throat, praying with desperation.

Please… may the Great Warrior I forged never cross paths with the ‘returned Great Warrior’…

In the lands north of Agon’s borders, the sun beat down with a ferocity that seemed intent on stripping the skin from the earth.

But that heat was nothing compared to the brutal lashes that were actually tearing flesh and drawing blood…

“You piece of filth, move! Faster!”

Crack! Crack!

The boy in shackles felt the world spinning.

Cold shivers raced up his spine while his ears burned with heat. His shoulders shook, and his legs began to fail under the weight of his fatigue. He felt a searing agony as if his entire back were being flayed.

“Ah… aaah… aaaah… aaaaaaah!! Aaaaaaah!! Mother!! Mo-theeeerr!!”

“Oh? You little brat! You brat! You think your mother is here? Am I your mother? Well? Am I?!”

“Aaaaaah!! Aaaaaah!!”

Crack, crack, crack!

Even as the child slumped down in a pool of his own blood, the guard continued to strike without pity. The other shackled Atalain captives watched in frozen terror at the cruelty.

Finally, an aged captive moved forward, unable to endure the sight any longer.

“St-Stop! What has the child done to merit such treatment? And if word of this reaches the Great Warrior—?”

Atala’s Great Warrior, the Furious Horn of Agon.

That name served as a powerful bulwark for these helpless people. No guard, regardless of their malice, could hear that name without feeling a surge of tension.

But this man did not waver—he only sneered with rage.

“What? You… are you trying to threaten me?”

“N-No, not that, but…”

“Kuhahaha… Pathetic trash. That Furious Horn of Agon has ruined the discipline of you primitives… So, where is your glorious Great Warrior now? He has been gone from the city for an eternity, hasn’t he? And you know he hasn’t been seen in Agon for over a week?”

“…”

“Hah, acting tough when you don’t know a damn thing…”

As he laughed and prepared to bring the whip down again, a massive shadow fell over him from behind.

The guard felt his heart stop. A cold numbness spread through his legs. He tried to turn and run before a disaster could unfold, but…

The dark edge of the axe found his back first.

Splat-crunch!

“Guh! Guh-huh…”

“…”

Gasping as his lungs failed him, the guard took a second blow and expired, his spine shattered and exposed.

Goltaran kicked the remains away with indifference and cleaned the gore from his weapon.

“Urk! It—it is the Furious Horn of Agon!”

“Damn it! What is happening! We thought he was gone—why is he here?!”

“Hieee!! R-Run, get out of here!”

The remaining guards screamed and fled into the wastes. The captives fell to their knees in a state of religious awe, bowing low.

“Ooh, G-Great Warrior!”

“Great Warrior! Our hero has finally returned!!”

“The Great Warrior has come to deliver us!”

The battered child was still unable to find his footing. Goltaran walked over to the bleeding boy and reached out a hand.

“…Are you able to stand?”

“Hic… G-Great Warrior…?”

Despite being in the throes of agonizing pain, the boy’s eyes were as bright and clear as stars.

It was the look of someone worshiping a legendary figure, his ultimate idol. For some reason, the sight provoked a feeling of guilt that could not be put into words. The troubled Great Warrior, his certainty wavering, could not sustain the eye contact.

No. I am not worthy of such devotion…

Goltaran turned his attention quickly to the others. He saw faces he recognized.

“You… you belong to Yubik the Grand Master.”

“Y-Yes, that is true, Great Warrior…”

“Why are you not at his manor? Why are you out here? I had his solemn word that he would not sell you to others.”

Yubik had promised to keep the Atalain captives as long as he was being paid, using Goltaran’s protective nature as a way to control him. In truth, it was a leash for the champion…

The crowd murmured, and then a response came.

“We… we do not understand it either. We were told the Grand Master traded us to someone else, and perhaps that person needed immediate coin and sold us off…”

“…”

Goltaran’s eyes narrowed. Handing over so many of my people while knowing exactly how I would respond?

This was not the work of some unknown third party. Yubik must have planned this to force him out into the open. But the man would know this would turn them into mortal enemies…

His eyes burned with a dark light beneath his helm, his face twisting into a mask of fury. He quickly regained his composure before his people could see.

“…We are returning to Agon. I shall have words with the Grand Master myself.”

“Yes! As you command, Great Warrior!”

The captives smiled with joy and followed their savior. Goltaran lifted the injured child in one arm, gripped his axe in the other, and began the march back toward Agon.

If it was proven that the man had sold his kin for some petty gain, he was determined to split the Arena King in two.