The Berserker’s Second Playthrough Novel - Chapter 108

Chapter 108
Chapter: 108

Chapter Title: Judgment of Atala (11)

—

A chamber overflowing with golden floral blossoms. At the heart of a ceremonial array choked with vibrant flora.

The seer of the barrens, who had stood watch over this solitary location for eons, abruptly snapped her eyes open in alarm.

“…!”

She had witnessed every detail of the events unfolding in the stadium.

A sorceress imprisoned within crumbling structures typically possessed no means to survey the lands beyond. However, she had engineered a forbidden shortcut.

The Root of the Wilderness.

An anathematized relic embedded within the seer’s own skin which, upon use, sucked the lifeblood from the earth and reduced the territory to a sterile void.

Its reach ensured that springs failed and crops withered—a blight that invited perpetual devastation. Yet for those of the wilderness sisterhood, the effect inverted into a majestic boon. They siphoned heightened celestial energy from the scorched soil and exerted bolstered capabilities.

In an age long past, a benefactor had committed this relic to her care, begging her to keep it entombed so no soul could ever grasp it. In the end, she had yielded to its use. The encroaching desert provided her with fresh vision and immense spiritual might.

Consequently, despite her chains, she could watch the world and weave minor enchantments. Furthermore, she harvested the essence of fallen lives from the surface to nurture medicinal flora within the depths.

Though Agon was turned to dust and she was anchored to this floor for centuries as the cost, the seer felt not a hint of remorse. Without such measures, she would have remained ignorant of the horizon and could never have sculpted “Atala’s Great Warrior” through her own design.

Now, however, the fruits of her labor seemed poised to turn to ash.

The “genuine Great Warrior,” whom she believed would never return after ages of vigilance, had reappeared. The combatant signaling retribution was annihilating every adversary that stood in his path with unnatural vigor. Even the champions of Atala wielding sanctified steel had crumbled, and the rival standing next was…

Goltaran—the “false Great Warrior” she had raised.

Once he met his verdict, her own end would surely follow. Overcome by dread, the seer squeezed her lids shut.

By any logical measure, Goltaran possessed the superior chance of winning for the moment. But if he were to fail or abandon the Judgment of Atala, his prospects would crash to nothing. His talent was anchored more to that terrifyingly potent celestial arm than his own natural capability…

Without the return of her full spiritual reservoir, she lacked the strength to halt a Great Warrior by her own hand. She considered presenting the “Needle of Branding” even at this late hour to bargain for Goltaran’s safety…

Abruptly, a foreign hallucination flooded the seer’s consciousness.

“…Hmm?”

The room blurred into the background, replaced by a boundless, scorched waste. A combatant stood tall, silhouetted against the sun. Initially, she brushed it off as a typical desert premonition.

Yet as the scene concluded, the seer recoiled in absolute dread.

“…Gasp!”

Something crimson and visceral tore out from a living frame.

Hidden within that combatant was a disaster of such horrific proportions it defied description.

Her breath nearly failed her. The seer’s bloodshot eyes bulged as she struggled for air.

“Hahk, hahk, hahk…”

It took a long time to steady herself after the fright. Once she regained composure, her intent had shifted entirely. Gripping her withered hand into a fist, the seer made a grim vow.

“…I must end him. Destroy him, that person. Kill him at any cost.”

She would extinguish the “origin of disaster” and transform Goltaran into the genuine Great Warrior.

In the wake of Perun’s departure, Goltaran’s initial response was a mix of treachery and fury. Yet as the hours ticked by, these feelings evolved into something different.

A nagging suspicion that every step he had taken was built on a lie.

His consciousness drifted to his beginnings. In his mind’s eye, he was a green fighter shivering before his first match.

‘Waaaaah…’

‘…Huff, huff, huff.’

Perspiration ran down his face. His heart hammered against his ribs. The thought of impending slaughter made the cheers of the masses sound more like the wails of the damned.

Crushed by panic, he abandoned his post. Running blindly from the staging zone, he accidentally breached a restricted area. Spotting a monolith inscribed with prehistoric runes, he walked toward it as if under a spell and rested his palm upon the surface…

Kiriririring…

…A hidden tomb revealed itself, and a crystalline voice resonated in his mind.

‘[You are… not the Great Warrior of Atala. By what means did you find this place?]’

He didn’t comprehend the words then. But his gut warned him that a denial would result in his immediate removal.

His voice spoke before his brain could catch up.

‘N-No. I am Atala’s Great Warrior.’

‘[…Preposterous. Do you possess even the slightest understanding of what “Atala’s Great Warrior” signifies?]’

‘Y-Yes. I am the Great Warrior of Atala. T-Test me. I will prove my claim.’

‘[…So be it. I shall present a trial—survive it if you are able.]’

The ordeal was monstrously agonizing, far outstripping the brutality of the pits. By its conclusion, his digits were shattered, his face broken, his limbs bent the wrong way, and his vitals were exposed for all to witness.

‘Gaaah! Khk, kkhrrgh…’

Nevertheless, he survived. Through sheer stubbornness and fortune, he endured. The ancient seer pulled his broken form to the center of the array and watched him with a sharp, discerning look.

‘My perception was flawed. You spoke the truth. You… are Atala’s Great Warrior.’

‘Gaaahk, hahk, urgh, uurrgh…’

‘That is enough. Cease your cries. There—submerge in that gilded basin. The sacred decoction will mend your flesh. When you are whole, take this.’

‘Kkhrrgh, hahk, hahk… W-What is that blade?’

‘This is the legendary divine tool bequeathed by the Great Warrior who came before…’

The seer of the barrens gifted him the Judgment of Atala and instructed him in the lore a Great Warrior must carry.

From that day forward, Goltaran’s existence was rewritten.

From a trembling fighter fleeing the shadow of the grave, to “Atala’s Great Warrior,” the instrument of the War God’s decree.

With a fabricated past and the backing of Yubik, he made a spectacular second debut. He became the master of the arena, saved his kin from misery, and was worshipped as a savior. As the years passed, his old self faded; even he stopped questioning his right to be “Atala’s Great Warrior.”

Now, however, that foundation was shaking.

The doubt first whispered by a specific merchant, nourished by stolen accolades, and nearly drowned by his hatred for the lunatic—it all surged back because of Perun’s final words.

Furthermore, his righteous anger toward the Demon Slayer turned out to be baseless.

“…Yubik never sold Atalan captives to the outside world?”

“It is true, Great Warrior. All claims that the Demon Slayer bought them were forged. It appears the master acted alone to move them out of Agon…”

“…”

As his blood cooled, his mind cleared. Fragmented words from his own thoughts and others’ voices spun in a dizzying whirlpool.

‘That weapon belongs to me.’

‘…The real Great Warrior of Atala, battling for a glory no one sees.’

‘You understand my meaning better than anyone, Goltaran.’

‘…There is no way he has come back. Impossible. Surely not…’

Every piece of evidence and every memory pointed to a single truth. Goltaran sprinted toward the tomb. As always, the shriveled seer sat waiting at the center of the ceremonial circle.

“Seer… You’ve watched it happen, you’ve known this whole time.”

“…”

Eyes blurred by the dust of ages. They were familiar, yet today they felt entirely alien. Goltaran swallowed hard and forced the words out.

“I have a question.”

“…”

“Am I the ‘counterfeit Great Warrior’ you created out of desperation… and is the Demon Slayer the ‘true one’ who disappeared?”

A flicker of movement crossed the seer’s hazy eyes.

But it was instantly drowned out by a sinister radiance. A voice like grinding metal roared through the chamber—heavy and piercing.

‘[No, he is no Great Warrior. You and you alone are the Great Warrior of Atala, the vessel of the War God’s command.]’

“…Then why have you been shivering in dread these last few days?”

‘[Because he is the “origin of disaster,” carrying a monstrous blight. Your form, our only defense against it, is not yet fully restored—how could this old body not tremble?]’

Goltaran’s expression shifted. He recalled images of the Demon Slayer lost in a bloodthirsty rage, leveling a town.

Yet, as the merchant had been the first to point out, he hadn’t brought only ruin.

“Can you… truly say that? Didn’t you once say I never even saw the face of the central archdemon? Based on everything, it was the one who came before who killed it and preserved the alliance…”

‘[Was it not you who said it first?]’

“…Hm?”

‘[You came to me at the start and insisted: you are Atala’s Great Warrior, the slayer of darkness and the world’s protector. Why do you change your story now?]’

Her eyes burned like a funeral pyre. Goltaran went quiet, biting his lip in agony, on the brink of admitting the shameful reality.

“That… was a lie. A desperate fabrication to cling to life…”

The seer interrupted him with cold authority.

‘[Quiet.]’

“…What?”

‘[Enough of this whining. I am sick of a Great Warrior who wavers. How many times must I state it for you to believe? You are Atala’s Great Warrior. You are Atala’s Great Warrior. Atala’s Great Warrior! Atala’s Great Warrior!! Atala’s Great Warrior!!! You—are—Atala’s Great Warrior!!!]’

Her screaming voice cracked and splintered. A yellow frenzy flickered in her cloudy eyes; her lined face twisted into a mask of rage. Goltaran stood paralyzed.

“Seer… You’ve… lost your mind…? What is this insanity…?”

‘[You alone are Atala’s Great Warrior. You alone carry out the War God’s plan. Even if you are not, I will make you so. Wait—the strength to destroy the “origin of disaster” and be forged anew shall be yours…]’

Kugugugugu…

The stone beneath them shook with violence. Dark light pulsed from the ritual circle. Fearing the worst, Goltaran moved to raise his axe, but the seer finished her spell with superior speed.

Guuung, guuuu—

Vile ribbons of light snaked around Goltaran, burrowing like parasites into his skin.

Night in the wastes, a short distance from Agon. The time to leave the city was drawing near. The barbarian and the merchant sat together for a meal under the stars.

Kadim finished a cup of wine and spoke.

“In your estimation, what kind of person was Agon’s Furious Horn?”

Duncan started and gave a hesitant answer.

“Uh, well… J-Just a nobody… Pretending to be Atala’s Great Warrior… Getting beaten by a trader like me…”

“There is no punishment for the truth—give me your real thoughts.”

Duncan cleared his throat before speaking honestly.

“…Sigh… To be perfectly honest, he was no simpleton. He carried an immense presence—just speaking with him made a regular man like me feel small… He helped his suffering people, liberated those in chains, and won the hearts of many. If I hadn’t known the truth, I would have thought him a legendary figure…”

“…”

“His power was more like a demon’s or a beast’s than a man’s. When he first entered Soltana, didn’t he split the gates with a single blow? Aside from you, milord, I have never seen a person so formidable…”

“…”

“My ‘triumph’ over him… it wasn’t real. Just luck—he was exhausted and caught off guard. If he had truly wanted to, he would have crushed me in a heartbeat…”

With the Divine Relic of Atala, he certainly could have. Kadim gave a quiet nod. Duncan shifted his tone and began to flatter him again.

“O-Of course, you are much more powerful, milord! I have no idea why people said he killed demons. Against an archdemon? He wouldn’t last a second… You’ll definitely win tomorrow’s duel—don’t give it a second thought!”

A quick reversal to erase his previous admissions. A hunger for profit glittered in his small eyes. Kadim let out a soft huff, then his face grew serious.

“…Did he ever mention how he came to possess Judgment of Atala?”

“Judgment of Atala…? Ah, that dark axe? No, he never explained… But he claimed it held the spirit of the wilderness father and the previous Great Warrior… He wouldn’t let a soul near it, as I recall…”

“…”

Such a weapon wouldn’t be found by accident; it carried a legacy.

‘Just as I suspected… the seer of the barrens gave it to him.’

The riddles surrounding Agon’s Furious Horn were mostly solved. All that remained was to best him, take back the divine arm, confirm the facts, and pass sentence.

It would not be a simple task. Judgment of Atala provided a devastating, world-breaking power. But if he only sought out easy paths, he never would have come this far. Kadim cracked his neck and solidified his intent.

“…It is time to return. Pack the things, Duncan.”

“At once, milord!”

The two made their way back to the estate of Yubik to find sleep.

And then, the following morning.

The day of the final battle—the moment to finally confront the champion—had arrived.