The Berserker’s Second Playthrough Novel - Chapter 103

Chapter 103
Chapter: 103

Chapter Title: Judgment of Atala (6)

—

The structure of the standard competition consisted of the qualifying stages, the primary tournament, and the crowning final.

Competitors were forced through the ‘preliminaries’ first. Those who survived those trials progressed to the ‘main rounds’ to find a challenger, and that final victor would eventually face the standing title-holder from the previous year in the ‘finals.’

Securing a spot in the main bracket required two consecutive wins in the qualifiers.

The opening challenge was the ‘melee battle.’ It was a chaotic free-for-all where every combatant stood alone against the rest, tasked with eliminating others until the field reached a specific count.

Kadim’s particular division consisted of nineteen warriors. Since only eight could move forward, eleven men had to be killed or incapacitated to trigger the end of the round.

Crack—thump!

“Argh… huff… gack…”

“……”

Kadim had personally dispatched all eleven.

The arena floor beneath him was a graveyard of broken bodies. Crimson fluid ran down his steel, and his dark locks were matted with thick, drying gore. He stood there like a primeval spirit of slaughter, drenched in the lifeblood of his enemies.

“Hah… ugh… no…”

“Please… stay back…”

The seven gladiators who remained were paralyzed by a fear so visceral it turned their stomachs. They had technically achieved victory by surviving the quota, but they found no joy in it; they could only moan in terror as they pressed their backs against the arena walls.

Conversely, the audience was whipped into a state of pure delirium.

“Waaaaah!!! Demon Slayer!!! Demon Slayer!!!”

“Demon Slayer!! Demon Slayer!! Demon Slayer!!”

The ‘melee battle’ was usually a tactical, sluggish affair despite its reputation. Because killing too many people usually painted a target on one’s back, most fighters preferred to eliminate a single threat and then play defensively to survive.

The Demon Slayer had obliterated that strategy. He had torn through the ranks like a whirlwind, cutting down the majority of the opposition. It was a display of savagery so rare and visceral that the fans could not contain their frantic worship.

Kadim, however, felt no pride.

“……”

His slaughter of the eleven was a matter of efficiency—a means to finish the tedious display as fast as possible. He did not crave the adoration of the masses, nor did he mourn the fallen. Just as he had done before, he grabbed the heavy iron gate and forced it open to make his exit.

Grind… screeech…

The display of raw physical power only served to fan the flames of the crowd’s obsession.

“Waaaaah!!!”

Absolute might always inspired a terrifying level of devotion. The spectators gasped at the gladiator’s ability to warp the metal bars with his bare hands. Some shrieked with a burning intensity, others were left speechless by the shock, and many felt a pang of disappointment that the spectacle ended so soon—the entire stadium vibrated with the sound of their envy and awe.

“Demon Slayer! Demon Slayer! Demon Slayer!”

“Demon Slayer!! Demon Slayeeeeer!!”

Whoosh—thwip! Whoosh—thwip! Whoosh—thwip!

However, the intoxicating atmosphere did not affect everyone present.

High above in the luxury boxes, several mercenary commanders watched the scene with detached, icy expressions. They exchanged low-voiced observations behind the safety of the bars before standing to leave in unison.

Tucked away in a private, soundproofed room, they spoke freely without concern for spies. One of the commanders voiced the group’s growing frustration.

“Grand Captain Yubik is pushing his agenda… a bit too aggressively, wouldn’t you say?”

After a moment of hesitation, the others murmured their consent.

“I agree. It was suspicious enough when he put that man in a 1-vs-24 scenario right out of the gate, but after what we saw today… well, it’s ridiculous.”

“He clearly wasn’t a weakling, but this transcends logic. If we don’t speak up, we’ll be watching the Demon Slayer clear a field of a hundred men next week…”

The Arena King held the ultimate authority over the venue. As long as the seats were filled and the coin was flowing, he was willing to overlook a bit of manipulation.

The mercenary captains, however, did not have that luxury.

Their wealth depended entirely on their own fighters winning and building a brand. They were naturally paranoid about unbeatable rivals or rigged matches that ruined their investments.

And now, they were faced with a single warrior who could dismantle entire groups without breaking a sweat.

Their initial thought was that the matches were scripted. The twenty-four fighters in the previous round all belonged to Grand Captain Yubik’s company. But that theory died today—eight of the men killed in the melee were from their own personal rosters.

Even so, a man possessing such devastating power while unarmored and outmanned defied the laws of nature.

The captains eventually settled on the idea of foul play.

“Is he utilizing a concealed relic? Some artifact that boosts his physical output to an impossible degree…”

“Could be a specialized elixir from the Magic Tower. A man of the Grand Captain’s influence would have those kinds of connections.”

“Perhaps he’s like those fanatics in the Indomitable Legion, calling upon a deity for forbidden strength?”

“Unlikely. Those types rarely bring their rituals into the fighting pits…”

They tossed out several theories, but no clear strategy took shape. If this were a nobody from a small-time guild, they could handle it—but the Demon Slayer was protected by the Arena King.

That protection acted as a license to bypass the rules.

If they did nothing, this single rogue element would ruin the entire ecosystem of the arena.

“What if we pull all our fighters? A total strike would force even the Grand Captain to listen.”

“Are you insane? If we walk away from the profits of this tournament, we’ll go bankrupt before the next season…”

“That might be exactly what he wants. He’ll wait for us to fail our payments and then swallow up our best gladiators…”

As the leaders stalled, one man offered a daring alternative.

“For the second round of the qualifiers, why don’t we set the ‘Spear of the North’ against the Demon Slayer?”

“……!”

The room went cold as the captains shifted uncomfortably.

The ‘Spear of the North,’ Lumark.

The man from the frozen lands had appeared out of nowhere, wielding a spear with a divine level of grace. Most experts ranked him among the top five warriors in the city; his loyalists insisted he was the only true threat to the champion, Agon’s Furious Horn.

An injury had kept him out of the previous finals. He had spent a full year in brutal isolation, honing his skills for this specific tournament to take the crown. The entire season was supposed to be a slow build toward the ‘Spear of the North’ versus ‘Agon’s Furious Horn.’

But the ‘Demon Slayer’ had hijacked the spotlight.

The public was now fixated on the man who had crushed twenty-four opponents single-handedly.

It was a blow to Lumark’s ego, but his patron took it harder—the shift in public interest toward the Demon Slayer had slashed their preliminary betting profits by half.

However, if the ‘Spear of the North’ destroyed the newcomer in the qualifiers, the narrative would shift back, and the main tournament would be a gold mine.

The captains looked toward Lumark’s sponsor with pleading eyes. Yet, knowing the rumors of cheating and the danger of losing their star asset, they didn’t dare demand it.

A heavy, oppressive silence filled the chamber.

Finally, the sponsoring captain looked up.

“A weapon tempered in the blizzards of the North will not be broken by some desert gale.”

His eyes sparked with a dangerous resolve.

“We will put Lumark in the ring with the Demon Slayer.”

In the moments leading up to the duel, Kadim waited in the staging area.

He heard the rhythm of a approaching stride. It was an unusual occurrence; after his recent displays of lethality, most gladiators avoided him like a plague.

Thwack!

The visitor didn’t just approach—he drove his spear into the dirt right in front of Kadim.

“Must be quite a thrill, hearing the masses scream your name like that, isn’t it, Demon Slayer?”

The man had sun-reddened skin, eyes like pale blue glass, and gray hair pulled into a high knot. He held a longspear that looked incredibly sharp. This was clearly the northerner he was scheduled to fight.

The warrior’s eyes burned with a frigid intensity, his mouth twisted in a sneer of disgust.

“The cold in the North makes these southern winters look like a warm breeze. If you breathe too deep, your lungs crack. If you leave a limb exposed at night, it rots and falls off. Even in that hell, I never let go of my spear, training until my hands bled. Why? To come to this city, the heart of the continent’s strength, and earn my glory through honest battle—to take the champion’s seat fairly!”

“……”

“You aren’t the only one who has suffered. I guarantee the men you slaughtered worked just as hard as you. Yet you stand here cheating, stealing victories you didn’t earn, and making a mockery of this holy ground of combat and the blood we’ve all spilled! And you are an Atalan, a follower of the god of struggle! Have you no shame?”

“……”

“Nothing to say, Demon Slayer? Give me an explanation!”

Kadim’s brow twitched slightly. He found the man’s entrance and accusations to be the height of absurdity.

He could easily kill the man in a few minutes and ignore the ranting. But the sheer stupidity of the claim required a retort.

“What cheating are you referring to?”

“Stop the act! I saw the matches! No normal human being possesses that kind of strength!”

“So your logic is that anyone more capable than you must be a fraud?”

“Don’t twist my words! I am saying your power is outside the bounds of reason…”

“If that’s your metric, why not go complain to Agon’s Furious Horn? Does his power fit within your ‘reason’?”

“……”

The man’s tirade died in his throat.

He lost his aggressive edge and began to mutter defensively.

“He… he is a legendary champion. He’s earned his place in the annals of history. You can’t compare a titan like him to a common sellsword like you…”

“How do you pretend to know my journey, judging me based on your own limitations? Do men from the North possess the ability to read a person’s history at a glance?”

“……”

Silenced, the warrior bit his lip until it nearly bled. Kadim continued, his voice carrying a note of weary frustration.

“…And this place isn’t a holy ground. It’s a cesspool of decadence where performers trade blows for the entertainment of a bored mob. If you actually wanted to test your limits, you would be out in the wilds fighting demons and beasts. That would be a true path.”

The insult hit the man’s pride like a physical blow. He glared at Kadim with pure hatred.

“Shut your mouth, Demon Slayer! You’re here for the gold and the fame just like everyone else—don’t try to act superior!”

“……”

“I am Lumark, the ‘Spear of the North’! You will pay for demeaning this arena and the warriors within it! Get to the sands, Demon Slayer! In the name of every honest gladiator, I will shatter your lies with my spear!”

The northerner ripped his weapon from the ground and marched toward his entrance. Kadim sighed. He realized he shouldn’t have bothered responding. There was no reasoning with a man who only heard what he wanted to hear.

Gong—clang!

The signal for the match echoed through the stadium. Kadim vaulted over the railing and onto the sand. The roar of the crowd hit him like a physical wave.

“Waaaaah!!”

“Demon Slayer! Demon Slayer! Demon Slayer!!”

“Waaaaah, Spear of the North! Spear of the North!”

“Spear of the North! Spear of the North! Spear of the North!!”

The fanbases were split down the middle, their shouts competing for dominance.

While the Demon Slayer was the current sensation, the Spear of the North had years of loyalty behind him. Thousands of supporters screamed for the blue-eyed warrior.

“Put that desert dog in his place, Spear of the North!!!”

“I want to see the Demon Slayer’s head on a spike tonight!!”

“Don’t lose! I’ve bet my house on you!!!”

Lumark soaked it in, waving to the stands and shouting a promise of victory.

“Have faith, my friends! To all who believe in me—this will be a day you tell your grandchildren about!”

“Waaaaaaaah!!!”

Kadim, by contrast, checked his equipment with cold detachment, ignoring the chaos. No matter how much the audience clamored for his attention, he remained a statue. The northerner and the Atalan stood at opposite ends of the pit, representing two entirely different worlds.

The tension was palpable. The spectators were prepared for a legendary duel, a clash of titans that would last for ages.

But the reality was much shorter.

The rules for this ‘standard duel’ were simple. Each fighter chose a traditional weapon—blade, spear, blunt instrument—and fought one-on-one. Lumark, naturally, held his signature longspear.

Kadim reached for a ‘throwing axe’—choosing it because its weight felt similar to a large fish.

Lumark noticed the choice. But the idea of throwing an axe across a two-hundred-meter expanse was laughable. He assumed Kadim would charge in to close the distance, and he shifted into a relaxed stance to wait.

Defying all expectations, a projectile of pure destruction left Kadim’s hand…

Screee—whiiirrrrrr—

…tearing through the air across the entire arena and slamming directly into the center of Lumark’s face.

Crunch—thud!

“Guh.”

The Spear of the North didn’t even have time to react. He stumbled back, his legs gave out, and he collapsed face-down into the dirt.

“……Huh?”

“Wait, what?”

“What just happened…?”

The throw had been so fast the average eye couldn’t track it. A wave of confused whispers spread through the stands. People looked at each other, baffled, before the shouting started again.

“What are you doing?! Get up, Lumark!”

“The fight just started! Watch out, he’s coming for you!!”

“Stop playing around!! My money is on the line!!”

Then, they noticed the dark liquid pooling around Lumark’s head, forming a wide, silent circle on the sand.

The stadium went bone-chillingly quiet.

“……”

A heavy, deathly silence took hold. Every person in the stands felt a chill run down their spine. The air felt as if it had been drained of warmth—a collective state of absolute shock.

Grind… screeech…

In the middle of the dead-silent arena, the only sound was the metallic shriek of Kadim bending the bars open once more to walk away.