The Berserker’s Second Playthrough Novel - Chapter 110

Chapter 110
## Chapter 110: Judgment of Atala (13)

The stadium in Agon had transformed into a vision of the abyss, as if a fragment of the netherworld had been forcibly grafted onto the city’s heart.

Thunderous roars shook the earth!

“Uwaaaaaaaaah!!!”

“Kyaeeeeeeeeek!!!”

The defensive seals shattered, and the grandstands gave way. A massive sea of people, nearly the size of a minor city’s population, scrambled desperately toward the exits. At narrow passages intended for a dozen at a time, thousands upon thousands of panicked souls crushed and trampled one another in a frantic bid for survival.

Paradoxically, those seated furthest from the doors simply remained in their chairs, paralyzed by resignation. Through this dark coincidence, they were the ones who truly grasped the identity of the person behind the carnage.

“Wait, is that… Agon’s Furious Horn?”

“What? You mean the monster who triggered this nightmare is…”

“Agon’s Furious Horn has lost his mind! The champion is slaughtering the crowd!!”

The very idol the masses had come to worship: Agon’s Furious Horn.

The onlookers watched the center of the stadium in a daze. However, a sharper look revealed it wasn’t aimless violence. The destruction of the infrastructure was merely secondary—from the beginning, the champion had been focused solely on a single target.

The newcomer fighting for the crown: Demon Slayer.

Splat—slash! Whoosh—thud! Rumble! Boom—!

The champion and the challenger traded lethal strikes. The conflict had erupted at a moment no one anticipated and in a manner no one could have predicted. Yet, the final match was playing out right before their eyes in its most raw form.

“… ”

“… ”

A handful of gore-splattered spectators crawled back to their benches. Gamblers, their minds long ago eroded by risk, didn’t even flinch. The wails of the dying filled the air, but they were ignored. To these individuals, witnessing a duel destined for eternal legend was worth more than their own lives or the lives of those around them.

“That’s the spirit! Finish him, Agon’s Furious Horn!!”

“Stop retreating, Demon Slayer! How long are you going to run like a coward?!!”

The frenzied champion held the upper hand, but the challenger’s tenacity was formidable. The collision between these two titans only grew more violent. When the crowd saw both fighters drain mysterious flasks by the narrowest of margins, they knew the duel was reaching its breaking point.

However, the deity governing conflict and the wild had other intentions.

Unfortunately, no one else had the luxury of treating this carnage as simple entertainment.

―――――― Bang! Bang! Bang!

Cracks began to spiderweb…

Under the weight of continuous impacts, the protective barriers had vanished entirely, and now the very foundations beneath the seating area were splintering. Anyone with a grain of self-preservation fled, while the obsessed remained rooted to their spots in breathless suspense.

――――― Rumblerumblerumble—!

At last, the floor vanished, plummeting everyone left in the stands into the dark depths below.

“Uwaaaaaaaaah…”

“N-nooooo!! Just a few more minutes, please…”

Even as they fell toward the Hall of Eternal Dreams to meet their demise, the gamblers didn’t mourn their lives; they lamented the fact that they wouldn’t see the end of the fight.

—

Agon’s Furious Horn swung his massive war axe with the force of a siege engine.

“Kuhk, kuuhuuu…”

“… ”

Kadim felt a strange sense of irony.

He was far more practiced at being the one lost in a berserk rage than he was at defending against one. Being on the other side of that madness felt fundamentally unnatural.

But that was a temporary state. Given enough time, the outcome was uncertain. The “power of the first playthrough” was inextricably linked to the “insanity of the first playthrough.” With a metaphorical fuse burning inside him, he had only one path forward.

End this quickly—tear the man’s throat out and seize the Judgment of Atala.

His boot slammed into the dirt, propelling him forward at speeds exceeding sound.

Boom!

A flash of divine speed bridged the gap instantly. A flicker of doubt appeared in eyes where the whites had turned pitch black. There was no time for a retort. Kadim buried his axe into the foe’s head, tore at his throat with the edge, and drove a kick into his midsection.

――――― Splat—crunch!

“…Kuhk!”

For the first time, a pained sound came from Agon’s Furious Horn—Goltaran. He smashed into a mound of debris, sending a spray of dust into the air, before laboriously pushing himself back up.

Rumble…

“Kuhk, kuuhuuu…”

“… ”

Gore leaked from his brow and neck, his features masked by filth and agony. Despite this, his vital essence seemed largely untouched.

Kadim remained unfazed. This was to be expected. The “divinity of Atala” provided more than just a surge in strength.

It granted total protection against debilitating effects, heightened every martial attribute, and drastically raised physical durability. The man’s skin was as resilient as enchanted dwarven metal.

‘…But even that can’t prevent the body from failing.’

It minimized harm, but it wasn’t true immortality. The answer was brute force.

Continue the onslaught until the sheer volume of trauma broke him apart.

Boom!

Kadim launched himself once more. Goltaran hoisted his axe, preparing to meet the charge.

As soon as he entered the killing zone, the dark axe carved through the air like a hurricane.

――――――――― Whiiiiiish—!

A glowing yellow trail of energy followed the swing, enough to make any warrior shudder. But Kadim adjusted his weight with cold precision, slipped the blow, and struck the flat of the axe with his foot. The momentum of the swing was redirected, pulling Goltaran off his feet and leaving him exposed.

“Kuuhuu…?”

His dark pupils shook. It was a display of agility that defied logic—he could hardly process what had happened. Kadim exploited the opening, clutched Blood Ghost, and lunged, aiming for every vital point.

――――――― Stab—!

Tremendous force traveled from the grip through the steel to the point. No defense could repel it. The yellow divine aura fractured, and a thin line of blood appeared on Goltaran’s arm.

“Kuuk!”

――――――― Whoosh—!

Kadim stepped around the retaliatory swing and struck again. The sequence repeated, the minor cuts growing into deep gashes.

However, Kadim suddenly broke off his attack and retreated a few paces.

Humm, humm, humm, humm…

Blood Ghost began to vibrate with a dangerous instability. It wasn’t a weapon built for such intensity, and it clearly couldn’t sustain the power of the first playthrough.

It didn’t matter. He could finish this with his hands if necessary. He switched his weapon to Thunderclap and closed the distance until they were chest to chest.

The savage close-quarters brawl resumed.

――――――― Splat—slash! Whooosh, boom!!

Goltaran’s strikes were still capable of reshaping the landscape, but they were hollow. His wild swings mostly turned the ground and buildings to powder. Kadim’s hits, though limited by his current weapon’s power, were surgical. They bypassed the divine armor, steadily breaking the giant down.

In truth, in terms of sheer raw stats, Goltaran held the advantage. With the divinity active and his rage peaking, his physical presence matched Kadim’s peak, and his weapon was vastly superior.

The reason he was failing was simple.

He was a beast driven by instinct, devoid of thought.

When strength is balanced, the rational mind will always prevail. A berserker usually makes up for poor choices with sheer power—but against an opponent of equal physical standing, he lost every trade.

And his failure wasn’t just in the moment-to-moment fighting. Goltaran failed the war of attrition.

As his body began to show signs of collapse, he reached for his belt—only to have his expression turn to horror.

“Kuuhuk…?”

Every one of his four remaining metal flasks was a twisted ruin. During their clashes, Kadim had calculatedly targeted and crushed them. Without his alchemical support, the physical toll of his transformation was now unavoidable.

Crunch, squelch…

His joints began to fail; his left arm hung uselessly. His right limb flopped without strength, and his legs turned to jelly. His skin began to peel away in sickening, wet layers.

“Kuhk, kuuhuuu!”

Goltaran wouldn’t give in, gathering his fading divinity for one last stand. But the conclusion was already written. Kadim didn’t hesitate and moved in for the execution.

The curved blade of the axe tore through his throat.

――――― Craaack!

Divine energy rushed to protect the wound, but it was too slow. The flesh split like wet clay. Amidst a spray of blood and ruined tissue, Goltaran slumped to his knees.

“Kuuuhhh…”

Kadim brought his heel down on the back of his neck to end it.

――――――― Boom!!

A dull thud vibrated through the ground.

His head was driven deep into the earth, creating a small crater. With a fractured skull, Goltaran would not be getting back up. Kadim wiped the spray from his face and cleared the gore from his weapon.

“… ”

The fight was won.

But the most vital task remained. By the code of the wilds, the victor takes the prize. Kadim walked toward his fallen opponent.

Goltaran clung to his divine tool even in death’s doorway. Despite his face being pressed into the mud, he refused to let go of the axe handle.

Snap, snap, snap—

…But as Kadim broke his fingers one by one, that final grip eventually failed.

Kadim took a long, steady breath. After an eternity of struggle, it was finally back in his possession. He raised the dark axe from the corpse of the giant with a sense of reverence.

Judgment of Atala.

The weapon that had executed a high demon in the first playthrough, a harbinger of death and devastation.

The holy relic, back in the hands of its true owner after three centuries of neglect, finally closing a dark chapter of history.

A wave of relief and victory washed over him. The axe head, marked with perfect ancient symbols on its black surface, the long dark shaft, the solid weight in his hand… it was exactly as he remembered. Even though this was the second time he had earned it, the thrill was just as potent.

He couldn’t afford to be sentimental yet. He sharpened his intent. Now that the weapon was his, he had to invoke the “divinity” to finalize the judgment.

Kadim pulled the ancient words from the back of his mind and spoke.

“[Atala, the Eternal Arbiter of War. Behold your champion, ignite your flame, and lead him to the fray…]”

The ground seemed to hum with the words. The wind kicked up dust instantly, and a yellow glow began to seep from the black axe, curling around his arms and shoulders…

Whiiiiiish—

…and then it vanished.

By the time he finished the incantation, nothing but a light breeze remained.

“…?”

He tried the chant again. Nothing happened. Doubting himself, he tried different phrasings. The result was the same. He examined the axe from every angle, but the “divinity of Atala” simply would not wake up.

Instead, the broken body of his enemy twitched at the sound of his voice.

‘Kuuk…’

“… ”

Kadim’s expression soured with confusion.

He couldn’t fathom what was wrong.

The axe hadn’t lost its essence—hadn’t the giant just been using it? He even had the fleeting, ridiculous thought that the weapon was holding a grudge for being left behind in the previous timeline.

‘Kuuhuk, kuuhuu…’

The sound of ragged breathing irritated him. Agon’s Furious Horn was trying to lift his head out of the dirt. The man should be dead, but his willpower was unnatural.

Simultaneously, a faint red tint began to bleed into the corners of his vision. A bad sign. If he didn’t call upon the divinity soon, the berserk madness would consume him…

“… ”

Perhaps the solution required the enemy’s death. On a whim, he decided to finish the job and then try the prayer again.

But as he took a single step.

Scraaape—

A sudden, sharp tearing sound filled the air.

The very fabric of reality began to distort.

Scrape, scraaape, scraaape, scraaaaperaperape…

Like old paper being ripped away, the image of the destroyed arena began to peel off.

The horizon lost its depth, turning into a flat plane. Through the gaps in the reality, the shadows of a confined, ancient space became visible. It was as if the stadium was a mere mask being stripped away to reveal the ruins beneath.

A surreal blending of the stadium and the ancient site.

A voice, sounding like a rusted iron bell, boomed from within the space.

⚠️ DIVINE EDICT ⚠️
[Origin of the Catastrophe that would end the world… Your insolent path ends here! Surrender the divine weapon and move away from the champion at once, or submit to the Judgment of Atala…]

Kadim looked up with a dark, heavy gaze…

Then, a wide, sharp grin spread across his face.

Now, this is getting interesting.