The Berserker’s Second Playthrough Novel - Chapter 76

Chapter 76
## Chapter: 76

### Chapter Title: Every Moment, Every Time (5)

Kadim stood upon the ashen earth, his ears straining to catch the drifting sounds of the wind.

Voices reached him, echoing with a sense of deep familiarity.

It was Melissa and Gordon. The spellcaster and the cleric of the Hero’s fellowship were locked in one of their frequent theological disputes.

“Listen, Gordon! Your logic is completely flawed! If Elga truly birthed every living thing in existence, doesn’t that imply he’s the creator of those disgusting demons as well?”

“Ha ha ha, indeed, Sister Melissa… However, the creatures of the abyss were not always so malicious. They turned against the Divine Will, fell from a state of purity, and transformed into the monsters we see now…”

“Then if they fell, he should have just dumped them into the pits of hell and locked the door. Why allow them to wander the world making everyone miserable? Is Elga some kind of sadist?”

“O Great Beacon of the Path, pray forgive this wandering soul… Sister, you really must watch your tongue. The sun is said to be the very pupil of Elga’s eye, watching over the mortal realm. Elga perceives every single act committed upon this soil…”

“What? So he’s some sort of voyeur? That makes him even more of a creep! Besides, we’re currently in the Demon Realm—the sun’s light never penetrates this place. Doesn’t that mean we’re outside his gaze and can do as we please?”

“N-no, you’re taking it too literally. That is a metaphorical phrase intended to illustrate…”

It was hardly the sophisticated discourse one would expect from figures charged with the salvation of the world. Rather, it looked like a stubborn young girl pestering a stout holy man—much like a pampered niece trying the patience of a doting uncle who could only smile and endure it.

The other members of the group offered no reprimand. They simply watched the exchange with soft, tired smiles. Their brutal trek through the Demon Realm provided almost no rest. These brief interludes, where they could cast aside their heavy burdens and focus on something trivial, were more valuable than any treasure.

The argument between Melissa and Gordon eventually drifted away from the origin of monsters and toward the nature of the great beyond. Gordon cleared his throat with a series of authoritative coughs and began a formal recitation.

“Elga has decreed: ‘Those who carry a radiant spirit and walk my path shall reunite one day in the timeless meadows where the sun never dips below the horizon, their faces beaming like the moon!’ This stands as one of the most vital depictions of the afterlife within our holy texts…”

“…”

Melissa, who usually had a sharp retort for every sentence, went strangely quiet and focused on his words. She stole a brief glance at Kadim before whispering her thoughts with uncharacteristic vulnerability.

“That… it actually sounds quite lovely. Since the sun never reaches the Demon Realm, I’d give anything to feel the warmth of the light all day. And seeing everyone again, smiling like the moon… it sounds peaceful and kind…”

“Do you truly feel that way, Sister? Ha ha ha, that is wonderful! Perhaps you would consider offering a prayer to the Lord of Eternal Light, just this once?”

“…Not in a million years! Think about it—if you spend your life being a good person but don’t bow to him, you get sent to hell? What kind of deity is that, some neighborhood racketeer?”

“S-Sister, I never suggested that those outside the faith were condemned…”

Kadim watched the two for a few moments as they continued their bickering—”It’s exactly the same thing!” “No, it certainly is not!”—before he let out a short huff of a laugh and looked away. He had seen enough. It was time to return to his labor.

He had distanced himself from the others to dig. Not in a metaphorical sense—he was physically swinging a spade, carving into the pale, violet-tinted ground.

*Thud, thud, thud, thud—*

His reasons were practical and grim. Digging was part of his survival routine in the Demon Realm. If he did not entrench himself deep within the earth to sleep, the “berserk madness” might seize his mind, causing him to lash out and slaughter his own friends.

However, the moment the hole reached a certain depth…

*Clang!*

…the edge of the shovel struck something solid.

It had a bizarre, vibrating sensation. Kadim immediately cast the shovel aside and dropped to his knees. Like a prospector who had discovered a rich vein of gold, he began to tear at the soil with his fingernails.

Dread began to pool in his stomach. A dark omen. No matter how he searched his past, a moment like this had never occurred. His instincts screamed that whatever was hidden in the dirt was far more dangerous than any precious metal.

The voices of his companions began to fade into the background. He tried to force his hands to stop their frantic scratching. But his muscles refused to listen. It felt as though the act of revealing what was buried here was the singular purpose of his existence.

At last, after digging until his nails were cracked, his fingers were mangled, and the earth was stained a deep crimson with his own blood, the object appeared.

An outline more vivid than the blood of a demon.

…And resting within it was something so malevolent that the mere sight of it caused his heart to stutter and stop.

—

The metropolis of Saltana, once a jewel of the Free City Alliance, was now nothing but debris.

No, that description was inadequate. Saltana had been a ruin long before this moment.

To be more accurate, it had been reduced to something far more pitiful than common ruins. The earth had collapsed, the very layers of the world had shifted, great chasms had opened, and in the shattered center of the city, not a single brick of its former glory remained intact.

This total annihilation was the result of a clash between only two individuals.

One was a massive, powerful man who lay unconscious, his eyes bulging and bloodshot.

“…”

The other was a battered combatant wearing a helm adorned with horns.

“Huff, huff, cough, haaa…”

After leveling an entire city to dust, Agon’s Furious Horn stood as the survivor of this brutal duel.

Yet, he felt no sense of triumph.

“Huff, huff, whoo…”

He had never truly held the advantage. Not for a single second. He had managed to land a few significant strikes, only to be met with retaliatory blows that were exponentially more violent. The giant had not fallen because of the damage he’d taken—he had simply burned out, his body unable to sustain the sheer magnitude of his own power.

The most unsettling realization was this: he had fought using a “divine relic,” while the other man had fought with nothing but his bare hands until the very end.

If the Judgment of Atala had not been in his grasp, or if the man had possessed a real blade, or even if he had stayed conscious for just a few minutes longer… the hypothetical outcome made his skin crawl.

*Crack… thud.*

His right arm, shattered and brittle like a clay figurine, snapped off and hit the ground.

“Ngh…”

Agon’s Furious Horn winced as he retrieved the detached limb. He uncorked a metal flask, splashed the liquid over the raw stump, and forced the arm back onto his shoulder. This was more than just the strain of using the relic—he was riddled with wounds that should have been fatal. He needed to conclude his business and depart before his constitution failed him entirely.

Lifting his heavy axe, he stared down at the prone figure.

“…”

He still had no idea who this man was.

The man was clearly insane, claiming the relic belonged to him without any basis in reality. And yet, he possessed a strength that eclipsed anyone he had ever encountered. He was more formidable than arena champions, northern warriors draped in ancient dwarven steel, the high masters of the Magic Tower, or even the Decagram—the legendary paladins of the Elga Church.

That was exactly why he had to die.

He could not be allowed to live now, and certainly not in the future when his power might grow. There was no guarantee of victory a second time. This man’s capability for destruction was too great for a single person—especially one who lacked a sound mind—to possess.

‘If he had lost control in a populated capital instead of these abandoned ruins, the death toll would be…’

Agon’s Furious Horn tightened his fingers around the weapon. He hardened his resolve. For the continued existence of the Alliance and the stability of the entire continent, this man had to be put down here and now.

He hoisted the Judgment of Atala toward the heavens, preparing to deliver a sentence in Atala’s name.

A thin ray of light broke through the swirling dark clouds, catching the black edge of the axe until it glowed like a silver moon. Suddenly, the handle kicked back slightly in his grip, as if the weapon itself were resisting the blow. Agon’s Furious Horn scowled, dismissing the sensation as a trick of his exhausted nerves.

Finally, his battered muscles coiled, and the great blade began its arc toward the man’s throat.

*Stab!*

A sudden, searing heat lanced into his lower leg.

*Whoosh—!*

The sharp, choking smell of burning sulfur filled the air.

“…!”

*Thud—!*

His footing failed, his balance vanished, and the heavy axe buried itself harmlessly in a pile of broken masonry.

Agon’s Furious Horn narrowed his eyes in confusion. The burning sensation in his leg was no hallucination. Actual tongues of fire were licking at his calf.

*Whoosh—!*

He quickly redirected his remaining internal energy to the wound. The relic’s inherent protection against all forms of harm eventually smothered the hellish flames.

“…Hoo.”

Agon’s Furious Horn regulated his breathing and turned a murderous glare toward the small figure who had dared to strike him.

He had forgotten her entirely. He had ordered her to remain hidden and out of sight. Why had she come out? How had she managed to approach him so silently? Why target his leg?

Whatever her reasoning, obstructing a divine judgment was a capital offense. He curled his lip into a savage snarl.

“…What do you think you’re playing at, merchant.”

“…”

“Do you have a death wish?”

The merchant’s throat moved as he swallowed hard, his life hanging by a thread.

Duncan’s legs were shaking with a terrifying intensity, but his grip on the hellfire dagger remained firm.

—

Duncan wondered if he had finally lost his mind.

What had he just attempted? He had stabbed Agon’s Furious Horn? Him? The most feared mercenary in the Alliance? The titan of the arena? The hero of Atala who commanded armies?

He had actually struck Agon’s Furious Horn.

It was the only choice. If he hadn’t intervened, Kadim would be a corpse. But the reality of it felt like a dream. That he had actually… drawn blood from Agon’s Furious Horn…

A voice, cold and devoid of pity, shattered his dazed thoughts.

“So, this person… he is the ‘Demon Slayer’ from your traveling party?”

Duncan pulled himself together and choked out a response.

“Y-yes! This is Kadim, the Demon Slayer of the Golden Highway!”

“…And what is your goal? You expect me to let him live?”

“Y-yes! Please, just this once, show a moment of mercy—he isn’t an evil man…”

“Preposterous. You attack me with a blade and then plead for leniency. Is this the new standard for merchant negotiations?”

“…”

Duncan felt the blood drain from his face. He gritted his teeth so hard his jaw ached. Agon’s Furious Horn continued, his voice as sharp as a razor.

“Even without your interference, I had no intention of sparing him. His power is far too volatile. And his sanity is fractured. Leaving a man like this among the living is no different than releasing a lunatic with a torch into a dry forest.”

“It isn’t like this all the time! This only happens on rare occasions—it’s a long-standing illness! It passes quickly, so if you could just wait a moment…”

“In that ‘moment,’ he turned an entire city into a graveyard. Is there any proof he will recover? What if the episodes become more frequent?”

“Th-that’s…”

Duncan struggled to find words. Agon’s Furious Horn let out a heavy sigh.

“Think logically. Why take the risk? Finishing him now is a simple task. Are you truly suggesting we gamble the lives of thousands of innocents and the safety of other cities just to preserve his life? Do you honestly believe that is the right path?”

“Y-yes!”

“Why?”

Duncan was stunned into silence.

He couldn’t find an argument. He had several weak excuses, but more importantly, a different thought struck him.

Kadim had promised him a fortune at the end of their trip, but he didn’t even need to wait—Kadim’s bags were already filled with treasure. If Kadim died here, Duncan could seize it all, go home, and see his family again.

He had almost forgotten that he had been essentially kidnapped. He wouldn’t have needed saving in the first place if he hadn’t been dragged along. The faces of his wife and daughter were becoming blurry in his mind. If he turned his back on Kadim now, who could possibly blame him?

Why was he putting his life on the line for Kadim? Against the nightmare that was Agon’s Furious Horn? Wasn’t the warrior right about the danger? If Kadim truly lost his mind, everyone—including Duncan—would be slaughtered.

As he spiraled into a pit of indecision…

Duncan shook his head violently.

No. He could not turn his back on him.

…Because Kadim was more than just his “berserk madness.”

He felt a deep wave of self-loathing for even considering betrayal for a second. With a sad, weary smile, he forced himself to speak.

“Great Agon’s Furious Horn… Please, I beg you to listen for just a moment.”

“…”

“I… I am a man of no consequence.”

His eyes flickered, haunted by his own history.

“I am a coward, a sycophant, a petty man driven by greed I haven’t earned. I spend every day chasing coins. I am a pathetic excuse for a human being. I shake at the sight of a single goblin, I bow to the powerful just to stay alive, and I look for a chance to run the moment they stumble. I’m not even worthy of looking my family in the eye. That’s who I am—trash…”

His voice cracked as he laid himself bare.

“To a person like me, you seemed like a god. No matter what you faced, no matter how terrifying the demon, you never showed fear. You never gave up—you fought with everything you had and you won. You were stronger and more courageous than someone like me could ever imagine. A hero from a storybook—that’s who you were…”

His heart hammered against his ribs as he faced the warrior.

“But… that legendary man said something to this pathetic wretch. He told me: Your life has meaning too. You have proven your own worth. And…”

And.

In that heartbeat, all of his trembling stopped.

“…Those who do not fight for it gain nothing.”

The look in Duncan’s eyes shifted.

*Whoosh—!*

The fear vanished. A fire was lit within his body and his soul. Standing as a shield in front of Kadim, he pointed the hellfire dagger toward Agon’s Furious Horn. His stance was amateurish, but his intent was absolute.

Agon’s Furious Horn pressed his lips into a thin line.

“I understand he is a savior to you. But your personal gratitude cannot outweigh the safety of the world. Do you have any reason to spare him that isn’t based on your narrow emotions?”

“…”

Duncan looked up at the sky without a word. Agon’s Furious Horn’s gaze followed.

The sky, which had been choked by demonic mists, was now clear and radiant.

“…Before we arrived, you mentioned this city was ruled by a core demon, didn’t you?”

“…”

“Look up—the core demon’s influence is gone, and the sky is bright. You are the only other survivor here. So, who do you believe struck down the core demon?”

“…!”

The eyes behind the visor of the horned helm widened in shock.

The merchant’s point was undeniable. The suffocating presence of the high-ranking demon had vanished entirely, causing the lesser monsters to flee.

Even so, Agon’s Furious Horn remained resolute.

“…I was capable of defeating the core demon on my own. And even if I weren’t, my Indomitable Legion is still active. We have reinforcements. Keeping such a dangerous variable alive is illogical.”

“No. No one else could have done it. Only he was capable of killing that monster.”

“What gives you such certainty? How could you possibly know?”

Duncan offered a small, knowing smile. There was no doubt in his voice, no stutter—only the calm of a man stating a universal truth.

“Because he is the ‘Great Warrior of Atala.'”

“…”

“He isn’t a fraud seeking gold or fame. He is the true Great Warrior of Atala, who has bled and fought even when there was no one left to cheer for him.”

A heavy silence descended over the ruins. No one spoke.

They remained locked in a stalemate of wills, neither side willing to back down.

A sudden wind swept across the horizon, filling the quiet of the graveyard city.

*Clang—*

Agon’s Furious Horn adjusted the fit of his helmet and raised his heavy axe once more. It was a clear signal that the time for words had ended. Though his eyes were obscured by shadows, his intent to kill was unmistakable.

Duncan’s smile didn’t fade. Logic dictated he had no chance against such a titan. Yet, remarkably, his terror had evaporated. Even if his life ended here and he had to face the Creator, he knew he could do so with his head held high.

He had lived a life of shame, but he would not die a shameful death.

Duncan dropped his pack to the ground and gripped his dagger with both hands. He whispered a spell to ignite his courage.

“Come and get me, you bastard…”

The struggle had begun.