The Berserker’s Second Playthrough Novel - Chapter 109

Chapter 109
Chapter: 109

Chapter Title: Judgment of Atala (12)

—

The closing match was the undisputed peak of the tournament season, and as expected, a massive tide of humanity flooded toward the stadium.

But this particular day felt different.

It wasn’t merely a busy day—it was a spectacle unlike anything seen before.

“Good grief, it’s like a sea of bodies out here…”

“Hey! Stop shoving! Watch where you’re going!!”

“Forget it, there’s no chance we’re getting past the gates today…”

“Merciful heavens, what has gotten into this city…”

From the main gates of the arena all the way back to the borders of the central district, the density of the crowd was so absolute that not even a trickle of water could have passed through. The sheer volume of people made a standard championship final look like a ghost town. It seemed as though every person in the metropolis capable of walking had migrated to this single spot.

“Listen up, everyone! The moment you’ve been pining for is finally upon us! The most legendary bout in the history of the sands! The greatest fight ever recorded begins in just a few moments! It’s a riot out there, so stay alert…”

The frenzy, just as the announcer shouted, was fueled by the reputation of the ‘greatest match in arena history.’

Agon’s Furious Horn versus the Demon Slayer.

A confrontation destined for the history books. This was the dream encounter the people of Agon had been craving. By now, the word was out that these two were perfectly matched in prowess, sending expectations into the stratosphere.

Yet, there was a second reason this specific duel was unmissable.

“Is it true? Agon’s Furious Horn is hanging up his weapons after this, regardless of the result?”

“It makes sense. He’s stepped into the role of commander for the executive council’s elite wing—he doesn’t need to bleed for coin anymore.”

“Whether he wins or loses, he’s going to end it with a thunderclap…”

It marked the final appearance of the mythic champion who had reigned as the undisputed king for nearly two decades.

To his followers and his rivals alike, Agon’s Furious Horn was more than a fighter—he was the living embodiment of the arena’s soul. To miss this was to miss the end of an era. No one wanted to be left out.

Because demand was so high and seating so scarce, the price of admission went through the roof. Even the lowliest seats in the third-class section were trading for the price of three ponies, and the VIP suites couldn’t be bought for a mountain of emeralds. Black market dealers and desperate fans gathered in the shadows, engaged in cutthroat bidding.

“Nine thousand! I’ll pay nine thousand luden for a single ticket!”

“Wait… didn’t you claim you couldn’t find ten thousand luden earlier?!”

“I sold my house! Shut up and give me the ticket!”

“The very last third-class pass! Going once! Eleven thousand luden—who can beat that?!”

“Twelve thousand! Twelve thousand—it’s mine!”

“Thirteen thousand! I have the gold right here—hand it over!”

“Hey! Stop him! Thief! That coward just snatched my ticket!”

Even those who failed to secure a pass refused to walk away.

Some tried to sneak in by blending into the shadows of larger groups. Others tried to tunnel underneath the foundations like rodents. A few even attempted to scale the treacherous outer walls. If the sentries caught them, they faced a cold blade without hesitation—yet people were willing to stake their lives just for a glimpse of the carnage.

If the chaos outside was extreme, the interior was beyond description. Every seat was occupied by two or three people huddled together. The bleachers were straining under the weight, ready to burst. Even before the combatants emerged, the roar of the crowd flared up like a forest fire.

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

“Agon’s Furious Horn!! Agon’s Furious Horn!! Agon’s Furious Horn!!”

Meanwhile, deep within the stone bowels of the arena, in the fighters’ preparation chamber.

Kadim sat in a heavy silence, isolated from the external clamor like the calm at the center of a storm. A sharp, lethal stillness radiated from him, reminiscent of a predator waiting in the tall grass with bared teeth.

One arrogant individual dared to interrupt his focus.

“Hahaha! Are you ready for the grand stage, Demon Slayer? It feels like only yesterday you were fighting your first match for nothing, and here you are at the summit!”

It was Yubik Agrámendus, the Arena King. A greasy, self-satisfied smirk occupied the face of the man currently accumulating a fortune in bets and ticket sales.

“What was my first impression of you? I told you I saw the spark of a star, didn’t I? Ha, my instincts are never wrong! Tell me, how does it feel to be the centerpiece of the most profitable match in the arena’s hundred-year legacy?”

“…Speak your mind and leave.”

“Hahaha! As cold as ever! Very well… let’s talk business, since our future champion is in a hurry.”

His heavy jowls tightened. Yubik’s expression shifted into something far more serious.

“This is just a small reminder: no matter what happens out there, do not take the life of Agon’s Furious Horn. You haven’t forgotten the pledge you made in the name of Atala, have you? If he dies, it creates a massive political disaster for both of us…”

“…”

Kadim remained silent for a moment, then allowed a cold, mocking grin to touch his lips.

“Spare Agon’s Furious Horn? I made no such promise.”

Yubik’s jaundiced eyes widened in shock.

“What are you saying? You gave your word right in front of me!”

“I promised I would not slay ‘Atala’s Great Warrior,’ not Agon’s Furious Horn.”

“Curse it… this is no time for semantics! They are the same person! If Agon’s Furious Horn isn’t Atala’s Great Warrior, then who is?!”

Yubik’s angry shouting stopped abruptly. The massive man’s cold, unblinking stare sent a shiver of dread down his spine. He couldn’t quite grasp the logic, but the survival instincts he’d developed in the brutal world of the pits told him one thing.

He had been deceived.

Agon’s Furious Horn was not Atala’s Great Warrior.

“Wait a minute…”

CLANG!

The signal bell rang out with perfect timing. Kadim stood up and walked toward the tunnel without looking back. Yubik’s panicked cries faded behind him, unheard. The hour had arrived for a judgment without mercy or hesitation.

The final match had no restrictions on weaponry. Kadim’s equipment was nearly identical to his previous fights, with the sole addition of an iron flask hanging from his belt. As he stepped out from behind the heavy iron portcullis, a mountain of noise crashed down upon him.

“WAAAAAAAAAAHHH!!”

“DEMON SLAYER!!”

Whoooosh! Whoooosh! Whoooosh!

“BOOOOO! BOOOOOOO!!”

“Fall, Demon Slayer!! Die, Demon Slayer!!”

The audience’s sentiment remained violently split. However, the cheers were noticeably thinner than before, while the jeers had grown more intense. Many in the crowd were still bitter over the incident with the thrown axe and his earlier disrespect.

Kadim ignored them entirely. Even if every person in the stands rose up to murder him, he wouldn’t flinch. In truth, he would have welcomed it—a chance to cull the cowards who treated life-and-death struggle as mere entertainment.

Unaware of the gladiator’s dark thoughts, the stadium’s energy reached a fever pitch. The challenger was in place—now it was time for the reigning king. Every eye, wide with bloodlust, turned toward the entrance on the right.

“Bring him out! Bring him out! Bring him out!”

“Agon’s Furious Horn!! Agon’s Furious Horn!! Agon’s Furious Horn!!”

One minute ticked by.

“Bring him out! Bring him out! Bring him out!”

Two minutes passed.

“Bring him out! Bring him out! Bring him out!”

Three, four, five minutes… despite the chanting, the champion did not appear.

“Bring him out… Bring him… Bring…”

The thunderous noise began to wither into a confused silence. Mumbled questions rippled through the stands like wind through dry leaves. The spectators looked at one another, shrugging in bewilderment.

At first, Kadim shared their confusion. There was no way a champion of that stature would flee before the final… Where was he hiding?

Then, suddenly.

…Thud thud, thud thud thud…

He sensed a subtle tremor, a presence closing in—but it wasn’t coming from the gate. It was coming from the direction of the isolation wall. It was moving at an impossible speed.

“…!”

He turned his head just as—

💥 IMPACT! 💥
――――――――― BOOM!!!

The isolation wall on the right side disintegrated in a deafening explosion of stone.

“What in the…”

“Kyaa…”

The seating sections directly behind the wall exploded as well, tossing spectators into the air like ragdolls. The intruder who had smashed through the masonry moved like a bolt of lightning, reaching Kadim before the debris had even settled.

Whoosh!

Kadim acted on pure instinct, swinging his weapon. But the attacker was swifter. He slipped past the guard and drove a devastating kick into Kadim’s midsection.

CRUNCH!

“…!”

His stomach buckled under the force, his internal organs feeling as though they were being crushed into a pulp.

💥 IMPACT! 💥
――――――――― BOOM!!

Kadim’s frame was sent flying, crashing into the far wall. The entire stadium felt the impact, and cracks began to spiderweb across the stone tiers. The sequence of events was so rapid that the crowd hadn’t even processed what was happening.

Only one person reacted instantly to the sudden violence.

“…Hngh, cough.”

Sizzle—crack!

⚡ SKILL ACTIVATED ⚡
Lightning Strike
💥 THUNDERSTRIKE! 💥
―――――― BOOM, RUMBLECRASH!

A jagged spear of electricity tore through the settling dust, moving at an unavoidable velocity. A flicker of blue light sparked in the intruder’s eyes—followed by a blinding eruption of energy.

Flash!

The bolt of lightning forced the brute backward. For a heartbeat, even he faltered. But it was only a heartbeat. He regained his footing, hoisted his massive axe, and renewed his charge.

💥 AXE STRIKE! 💥
――――――――― BOOM, CRASH!

The roar of the axe-swing drowned out the lingering thunder. Kadim rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding the blow—but the isolation wall behind him took the full brunt and collapsed. The shockwave caused the surrounding bleachers to cave in. Spectators were buried in the rubble, a chaotic pile of broken limbs and torn skin.

“Urgh, uwaaa…”

“Kyaaaaaaa!!”

“Aaaah!! Uwaaaaa!!”

“Huergh, urk, uuu…”

The air was filled with the sounds of agony. From the point of impact to the very edges of the arena, terror spread like a contagion. The overcapacity crowd turned into a stampede, fleeing for the exits and turning the stadium into a scene of absolute carnage within seconds.

In the center of the chaos, Kadim struggled to survive the onslaught of his berserk opponent.

Sizzle—crack, whoosh! BOOM, crash!

He evaded the axe, unsheathed Blood Ghost, retaliated with Lightning Strike, traded punches, and braced against kicks. The injuries from the initial ambush were making him sluggish. He triggered his Hydra Tattoo to begin the healing process, utilizing every buff at his disposal to stay in the fight.

🧬 HYDRA TATTOO ACTIVATED
Wounds regenerating…
Hummm—

Despite his efforts, Kadim was being pushed to his limits.

It was unavoidable. During a brief pause in the exchange, Kadim sucked in a ragged breath and finally took a good look at his adversary.

“Huff, huff, huff…”

“…”

The helmet with deep horns, the massive, corded muscles, the obsidian battle axe engraved with ancient sigils… and a flickering yellow radiance swirling around him like a sandstorm.

It was Agon’s Furious Horn.

He had already invoked the power of the Judgment of Atala.

The artifact truly lived up to the legacy of a god of war, providing a terrifying level of strength. Even an untrained peasant would have been dangerous with it—but in the hands of a master combatant, it was a death sentence. It was a testament to Kadim’s skill that he hadn’t been crushed into the dirt yet.

“Kuhuuugh…”

A dark, foul steam escaped from behind Agon’s Furious Horn’s visor. A look into his eyes revealed no humanity—only a void of pure blackness.

This wasn’t just the relic. The artifact consumed the body, but it usually left the mind intact. There was only one explanation for this mindless, single-minded drive to kill Kadim.

‘The Wildland Witch must have placed a hex on him. A spell to strip away everything but the urge to murder…’

It was almost certainly a ‘berserk’ enchantment.

The price for such a spell was steep, but for a pure killing machine, it was incredibly effective. The berserk state traded logic and reason for a massive increase in physical power. When combined with the Judgment of Atala and his natural instincts, it created an unstoppable monster.

‘Did they go this far just to make sure I was dead? He was already a titan with just the relic…’

The reason for such overkill was a mystery. For now, staying alive and finding a way to stop him was the priority.

The unstoppable juggernaut began his true offensive.

💥 AXE QUAKE! 💥
―――――――― BOOM!!!

A single swing of the axe cleaved the very ground. Even though Kadim wasn’t hit directly, the sheer force of the shockwave sent him tumbling. He tried to lunge forward to close the distance—but reconsidered immediately.

That first strike was just the beginning. The real storm followed.

💥 COMBO ASSAULT! 💥
――――――――― WHOOSH! BOOM!! BOOM!!

Furious arcs of steel sliced through the air, leaving deep gashes in the earth as the arena floor trembled.

There was no strategy, only overwhelming speed and raw power. The air seemed to scream as it was torn apart; every strike sent tremors through the foundations. Kadim found it impossible to find an opening in that whirlwind of destruction.

⚡ SKILL ACTIVATED ⚡
Lightning Strike
Flash, clang!

Even a Lightning Strike empowered by thunder was deflected as if it were nothing. Direct confrontation was out of the question. After dodging countless lethal blows, Kadim realized there were only two paths forward.

He could wait for the relic’s side effects to rot the man’s body from the inside out.

Or he could tap into his own ‘destructive power’ to meet the monster on equal ground.

“Kuhk, kuhuff…”

The first option was a gamble he couldn’t win. As the champion’s body started to show signs of strain, he pulled an iron flask from his belt and drank. His fractured arm audibly snapped back into alignment.

Crunch, crickle—

A powerful elixir designed to stave off the relic’s toll. The witch had left him just enough instinct to keep himself functional.

“…”

There were four more flasks on his belt. Waiting him out was impossible.

Kadim had no other choice. He had to call upon his own ‘destructive power’ to face this creature.

He didn’t hesitate.

Kadim opened his own iron flask. As soon as the seal was broken, a stench of blood so foul it could rot the senses filled the air.

He felt no disgust. Despite the sickening smell, a strange sense of bliss washed over him. He felt a primal urge to drain the entire bottle—but he held back, taking only a measured swallow.

The liquid, as thick as clotted ichor, slid down his throat. The burning thirst in his soul was finally quieted, and a vision appeared before him.

Tick, tick, tick…

A small blue pocket watch, its gears grinding away the seconds.

Kadim grabbed the phantom watch and twisted the hands backward with violent intent.

The hands began to spin in reverse, whirring at a frantic pace…

Crunch, crickle, craaack—

…crossing back through time, his bones, muscle fibers, tendons, and nervous system were forcibly restructured.

A tidal wave of power surged through him, a strength capable of tearing the world apart.

Kadim fixed his hollow, soulless gaze upon the ‘false Great Warrior.’

“Kuhk, kuhuuugh!”

“…”

By consuming the blood of a high-tier demon, the berserker from his first life had returned.