The Berserker’s Second Playthrough Novel - Chapter 75

Chapter 75
Chapter: 75

Chapter Title: Every Moment, Every Time (4)

—

A vast stretch of time had passed.

In his own recollection, it had only been a few months. However, so much had transpired during that interval—or perhaps it was the 300-year void in the physical world—that for Kadim, stepping back into this physical form felt as though an age had slipped away.

Nevertheless, it felt right.

Like a seasoned soldier donning a familiar set of armor that fits perfectly regardless of the years, this shape, this intuition, this sensation—the terrifying, boiling strength capable of pulverizing anything even without the aid of demon blood—returned to him.

The logic behind it was beyond him.

He understood it was rooted in the demon’s power to turn back the clock. Yet, how his body from the second life could link so seamlessly to his form from the first remained an enigma. It wasn’t a concern for the present, though. He could analyze the mystery later, once his primary objective was met.

The only thing that mattered in this instant was cutting the thread of that foul demon’s life and seizing its essence.

With a mere tightening of his fingers, another display of crimson gore erupted without hesitation.

――――――― Splat—Crunch!

The resilient scalp and the stubborn bone of the skull gave way, thick neural matter and greyish remains squeezing through Kadim’s knuckles like kneaded dough. The demon let out a sickening gurgle of bloody froth from its mangled throat—resembling a gateway to the abyss—and emitted a pained wail.

* Kiririrink, kiririrink….

The rhythm of the pocket watch echoed, pulling the demon back to its previous state. The shattered skeletal structure and torn sinew reconnected above the collarbone, and the ruined mask stitched itself back together.

* Gasp! Haaah….

Pebilatus desperately traced a dark sigil upon his mask, frantic to rewind the seconds and flee. But Kadim had no intention of granting him an exit. Eyes that seemed to hold the void itself stared through the ripples of fractured time, pinning the demon’s regression in place.

“Running away so soon? We haven’t finished our business.”

His arm lunged out in a blur, gripping the demon’s head and driving it into the dirt.

―――――― Qua—Boom!!!

The force of his strike was swifter than the blink-of-an-eye reversal of time. The demon’s frame was driven deep into the soil, creating a network of jagged fissures that radiated outward as the earth gave way.

Crack-crack-crack! Rumble-rumble-rumble….

The sheer weight of the impact forced its skull down into its chest cavity, nearly piercing the heart. With the top of its head protruding where its neck ought to be, Pebilatus found himself unable to even cry out.

Any attempt to shift or dodge was futile. Like striking a mole that kept popping back up, every time the demon used the rewind to reappear, Kadim struck him down without pity. Blows that carried the weight of battering rams fell upon the demon’s crown over and over. In that pit of torment, the creature suffered through endless, useless restorations.

―――――――――― Splat—Crunch!! Splat—Crunch!! Splat—Crunch!!!

* Kieeeek!! Kieeeee….

Pebilatus was trapped in a state of disbelief.

He had become a high demon, a superior entity far beyond his previous self. And yet, this titan of a man made him look utterly pathetic. How could such an unfair, illogical power exist?

He had attempted to rewind the giant back to a weaker state. But the hands of the watch refused to move even a hair’s breadth. It was proof that the giant had stepped into a tier of existence that his magic could no longer influence.

Terror began to give way to a panicked urgency. The demon could not actually use “every moment” of his existence to heal—he was limited to the moments “etched into his psyche.” Though thousands remained, the trauma of having his brain pulverized and rebuilt repeatedly had already wiped most of those memories clean.

If this continued, he would fall to the giant a second time. In a desperate final gamble, Pebilatus pooled his demonic essence at the ceiling. Compressing the energy until it was dense enough to level a fortress, he rained down a deluge of corrupted power onto the giant’s position.

Qua-gwagwagwagwa—!

But Kadim brushed it aside as if it were nothing.

―――――――――――― Splat—Bang!!!

His swinging arm caused the very air to detonate under the pressure.

He didn’t even need to make physical contact. The sheer momentum of the swing evaporated the descending energy instantly. A pocket of vacuum followed his fist, followed by a violent surge of air that roared through the chamber.

A localized hurricane tore through the space from the floor to the rafters.

Whoooosh—!

Pebilatus was left in stunned silence.

It was like staring up at a mountain that could not be climbed. That level of force was beyond the capabilities of any mortal—it was something that touched the divine. Only a “great demon” should be able to withstand such a display of raw violence…

――――――― Qua—Bang!

* Kik!

With his final effort thwarted, the demon was left to endure a cycle of constant demise.

His “etched moments” were nearly spent. Every time he died, the regression took him further back: his arrival on the continent as a high demon, his dark reign in the underworld, his struggles within the pits of hell, the mockery he endured, and his pathetic pleas for mercy in the demon world…

* Kiiik, have mercy, I beg you… Kiiik….

“……”

Kadim halted for a brief moment.

His gut told him that killing the creature any further would result in its total erasure. He still had inquiries to make.

He needed to know how it recognized him after three centuries, who was responsible for its resurrection, and what it knew about the demonic surge and the ends of his former allies…

* I’ll comply, I’ll do anything… I’ll reveal everything I know… Just let me live, please….

It seemed the creature was ready to talk. Kadim stepped closer. He began to form his questions in his mind—Wait, the sensation of breaking this wretch is far too satisfying. I need to do it again.

Kadim’s pupils dilated with a strange intensity.

―――――――――― Qua—Crush!

Without a second thought, he brought his heel down on the demon’s skull. The wet, crushing sound beneath his boot gave birth to a spray of dark red. The remnants of the brain, soaked in blood, looked strangely enticing. Kadim reached out, intending to gather and consume the remains…

But he suddenly struck his own hand away. He clamped his eyes shut, gritted his teeth, and balled his fists until the skin split. A chillingly familiar sensation slithered up his back and into his mind.

He had slipped up. He had briefly forgotten the shadow that haunted his first life. There was no such thing as free power—that was why he had endured so much pain. Why had the “berserk frenzy” slipped his mind until now?

He was no longer bound by the magical restraints or holy chains of the past. Unleashing this power while losing his mind would lead to a bloodbath. In a moment of clarity, he thought about shattering his own legs—but why do that when his feet could still find more demons to trample? Were there more here to destroy?

* Groooaaar….
* Matum, Gehenna, Matum, Golgata, Matum, Grimos….
* Destroy them!! Tear their skin and pluck their eyes!!

No. It was a delusion. This wasn’t the demon-infested pits—this was Soltana, the city of the alliance. He needed to disable his own limbs before he lost control. But hadn’t the city already been overrun? Were these sights real or fabricated?

Lost in a haze of mental static, Kadim suddenly realized his mouth was full.

The sharp, metallic tang of blood filled his senses. Looking down, he saw he was hunched over the demon’s remains, having bitten deep into its neck. Blood was spraying from the severed vessel like a fountain.

The sight acted as a splash of cold water. Right—he was consuming blood to fuel his fight against the demonic host. That meant these were real enemies, not ghosts.

He chewed and gulped down the meat and lifeblood. The searing heat of the vitality burned his throat and spread through his chest, reigniting his thirst for battle.

* Kuwaaaaaar!!
* Kihehehihik!! Fall, mortal!!

The maddened warrior let his lips curl into a predatory sneer and stomped the ground with terrifying force.

―――――――――― Qua—Ring!! Crack-crack-crack—!!

A massive rift tore through the stone flooring and raced up the walls to the ceiling. The lair of the high demon collapsed entirely under the weight of that single kick.

Agon’s Furious Horn was on high alert.

“……”

His throat felt tight, and a cold sweat ran down his spine. This was a feeling he rarely encountered. Even when he had faced the champion of the arena as an unknown challenger, he hadn’t felt this level of unease.

In the heart of Soltana, a giant crater had opened in the earth.

He stood perched at its jagged rim.

……Rumble-rumble, rumble-rumble-rumble….

Violent tremors and guttural roars echoed from the depths. Whatever was causing this collapse and the subsequent noise was either a behemoth… or something possessed of god-like strength. It was a demon, without a doubt.

That sellsword known as the “Demon Slayer” was surely a corpse by now. No mortal could survive the earth swallowing them like that. He let out a heavy breath. To lose such a warrior—one who could take down upper demons without the help of a “miracle”—was a bitter pill to swallow.

‘Had we stood side by side, we might have finished the core demon without any casualties…’

Agon’s Furious Horn shook his head, pushing aside the useless “what ifs.”

Sentiment was a luxury he couldn’t afford. With the Demon Slayer gone, the burden fell solely on him. He was the one destined to strike down the core demon, save the alliance, and take up the title of “Atala’s Great Warrior”—the one who would end this era’s darkness.

The lives of his fellow fighters, his family, and all the allies depended on his strength. His sharp eyes burned with a cold light. He gripped the handles of his hatchets with conviction…

Squelch.

…but his left arm suddenly went limp, hanging as if the joint had been wiped from existence.

He grimaced beneath his horned helmet. The side effects were surfacing at the worst possible time…

Agon’s Furious Horn retrieved a small metal vial from his chest piece. He downed the liquid and rubbed a thick layer of the substance onto his left shoulder. As if by magic, the strength returned to his arm.

He tested the joint, then dropped to one knee to begin his prayer.

“[Vanguard of the Indomitable Legion, Atala, witness your Great Warrior. Ignite your flame and lead me into the fray…]”

As the prayer concluded, a golden sandstorm of miraculous power swirled around him, filling his veins with an immense energy. The blessing and the weapon of the god of war were his to command.

Clutching his hatchet, Agon’s Furious Horn dove into the abyss.

Thud—!

After navigating through the settling dust and debris, he came face-to-face with the source of the chaos.

He stopped dead in his tracks.

“Grraaaaaar!!”

――――――― Qua-gwagwagwa—!!

His first thought was that he was looking at a demon in a state of frenzy. The face caked in blood, the massive, inhuman proportions, the terrifying power—it was the image of a monster.

But a second look proved he was wrong. Though his actions were those of a beast, the figure was clearly human. An Atalan, just like him, a follower of the Wilderness Father.

Agon’s Furious Horn adjusted his helmet and spoke to the figure.

“Identify yourself. What has happened to you?”

“……”

“……Are you the mercenary they call the ‘Demon Slayer’? If you are, where is the primary demon? Give me your report.”

“……”

The man gave no answer, his chest heaving with animalistic breaths as he stared with an unreadable expression.

Agon’s Furious Horn widened his footing, his muscles coiling. The man wasn’t a demon, but he might be under a curse or possession. He had no desire for a pointless skirmish, but if he were provoked…

Then, the man spoke, his voice raspy.

“That hatchet… that belongs to me.”

“……?”

“Tell me how you stole it.”

Agon’s Furious Horn’s expression soured, and he pulled the weapon closer to his chest as a silent threat.

“This weapon carries the spirit of the Wilderness Father and the legacy of the Great Warriors who came before—it is a holy relic. Only the true ‘Atala’s Great Warrior’ is worthy of it, which is why it is in my possession. I do not know who you are, but do not lust after things far above your rank…”

“……’Atala’s Great Warrior’? You think that’s you?”

“I am indeed…”

Agon’s Furious Horn’s words died in his throat.

Suddenly, the man’s eyes turned a violent shade of red, as if the blood vessels had burst in an explosion of anger. He pulled his mouth into a jagged smile, his voice a low, terrifying snarl.

“[So you’re the one—the little performer I’m going to rip apart.]”

The pressure of the man’s killing intent was unlike anything he had ever felt.

His skin crawled with goosebumps. Agon’s Furious Horn tightened his core to hide the shaking of his limbs. A mixture of fury and insanity flickered in the man’s blood-red eyes.

“[Do you have any idea what kind of purgatory I walked through to earn that title and the burden of that steel?]”

“……What are you talking about?”

“[You couldn’t possibly know. How could a piece of filth like you understand? You threw away your honor for the sake of a show, playing at gladiators… Crushing your head and tearing your heart out won’t even begin to settle the score.]”

“Wait, what do you—”

“[Be silent and return what is mine.]”

The man’s silhouette vanished into thin air.

――――――――――― Qua—Bang!!!

In the span of a single heartbeat, Agon’s Furious Horn found himself buried deep within the rubble—driven further down than he thought possible.