The Berserker’s Second Playthrough Novel - Chapter 84

Chapter 84
## Followers of the Forgotten God (6)

Kadim remained perched on a worn wooden chair, every fiber of his being coiled like a spring, hand inches from the heavy axe at his hip. Ilenia moved away from the cluttered desk and took a seat across from him.

“I would truly love to begin this conversation by saying how wonderful it is to cross paths again after all this time… but I suspect that sentiment isn’t shared by you, mercenary.”

“Glad your intuition is still working. Now start talking. Tell me what kind of nightmare I’ve stepped into.”

With a sharp tilt of his head, Kadim gestured toward the puddles of melted flesh that had once been her doppelgängers. Ilenia laced her fingers together, letting out a heavy, weary sigh.

She looked significantly more drained than during their previous encounter. Dark circles bruised the skin beneath her eyes, and her lips had lost their usual color. Despite the exhaustion, her beauty remained striking, though after decapitating twenty versions of her face, Kadim found himself completely unmoved by it.

The archaeologist shut her eyes, lost in a brief moment of internal debate before she finally addressed him.

“To be honest… I cannot disclose the full scope of the situation at this moment.”

“…”

Kadim’s knuckles whitened as his grip tightened on his weapon. Ilenia didn’t blink, meeting his hard stare with a steady, unyielding gaze.

“However, you have my word: once this crisis is averted, I will lay it all bare. Who we truly are, our ultimate objectives, the reasons behind the aid we provided, and why we felt it necessary to operate from the shadows.”

In short, she was asking for more time and blind trust.

Kadim scowled. He couldn’t deny she had been a vital ally in the past. Yet, because of the silver currency she’d handed him and the synthetic horrors wearing her skin, he had nearly met his end. Whether her promises were worth the air they were breathed into remained to be seen.

The silence in the room grew heavy, fragile as a glass pane on the edge of a precipice.

Kadim made a swift mental calculation. Dealing with the immediate threat was more vital than unearthing buried secrets. He reached into a pocket and produced a silver coin marked with cryptic engravings.

“I squeezed the throat of the man who took Duncan. He claimed this was a sacred artifact of the ‘Forgotten God.’ Why did you give it to me?”

Ilenia looked away, a faint flush of embarrassment coloring her cheeks.

“That… was a genuine blunder. I intended to pay you with a standard 100-luden silver piece for your services. They are identical in weight and size, and I grabbed the wrong one in my haste. I am profoundly sorry for dragging you into this chaos.”

“…”

Kadim felt a fleeting moment of pity for her clumsiness, but he brushed it aside. It was irrelevant now.

“Forget it. Those fanatics were already hunting me. Tell me who they are and why they want this coin and my head.”

Ilenia regained her composure and looked him in the eye. She rubbed her arms as if warding off a chill, organizing her thoughts.

“Tell me… what do you actually know of the ‘Forgotten God,’ mercenary?”

Kadim grunted, signaling he knew the basics. It was lore he had absorbed through his previous life and the progression of the world’s history.

In the ancient eras, Elga and Atala weren’t the only supreme deities. During the Age of Myths, before the decline of the elder races, five gods presided over existence: Elga, Atala, and three others.

There was the Dwarven God of metal and frost, the Elven God of nature and rest, and finally… the ‘Forgotten God,’ the sovereign of darkness and disorder.

However, those three never achieved the heights of the main duo. When the mythic era faded and humanity rose to dominate the continent, the followers of the lesser three were pushed to the world’s edge or put to the sword.

The Forgotten God suffered the most brutal fate—the Church of Elga dismantled its kingdom and systematically erased its memory from history.

“The common history books claim the Elga Church completely eradicated the followers of the Forgotten God. That is a lie. They endured. Much like the dwarves who retreated to the frozen wastes, the elves hidden in the deep woods, or the nomadic priestesses who vanished into the uncharted wilds… they survived in the places where the sun never shines.”

Kadim thought back to the man he had broken during interrogation.

“The one I caught mentioned a group called the ‘Night Raven Faction.’ I assume they are a branch of these survivors?”

“Precisely. You’ve done your homework. However, the ‘Night Raven Faction’ is a splinter cell, distinct from the traditional sects. They are heretics who distort their god’s will for personal gain, stealing divine power without honoring the ancient pacts.”

“You seem remarkably well-versed in cult theology for a simple archaeologist, Ilenia. Even more so than the wild priestesses I’ve heard about.”

The observation caught her off guard. She offered a vague, cryptic smile and moved on.

“Archaeology requires a very wide net of knowledge. Regardless, the ‘Night Raven Faction’ was small until recently. Other sects kept their insanity in check. But the balance has shifted.”

“…”

“You are aware of the fame Agon’s Furious Horn and the warriors of Atala gained during the demon surge on the Golden Highway?”

Kadim’s expression turned grim. Ilenia noticed his change in mood and winced slightly, but she stayed on track.

“The rise of those warriors gave immense political leverage to the younger Agon doctors, the ‘Agon faction.’ Their influence in Galentana surged overnight. Consequently, their rivals—the established ‘university faction’—saw their power evaporate.”

“…”

“Desperate to reclaim their standing, the university faction began searching for individuals with ‘extraordinary abilities.’ Your name was at the top of their list. That was when the ‘Night Raven Faction’ reached out to them. Knowing my history with the medical community, they used their magic to create copies of me to infiltrate and manipulate…”

“So how does that explain the politicians and their spoiled children getting involved?”

“On their own, they are harmless. The issue is that a high-ranking doctor in the university faction possessed several relics of the Forgotten God, much like the coin you hold. The Bishop of the Night Raven Faction struck a deal with him, used those relics to mass-produce my clones, and then sent them out to gather the remaining artifacts.”

“…”

Kadim looked at the silver coin in his palm with newfound wariness, then at the melted remains on the floor.

“How does a single coin create an army of fakes?”

“It is known as the ‘Silver Coin of the Fallen Kingdom.’ It was the final sacrifice offered before the god’s empire collapsed, saturated with concentrated divine energy.”

Ilenia’s voice was heavy with gravity. She scowled at the coin.

“In the hands of a priest of the Forgotten God, that coin acts as a conduit for dark miracles. They can project shadows, create warped dimensions, summon monsters, and fold space itself.”

“Then I should probably hide this. I don’t want them getting a power boost.”

“No, you must keep it! The only reason they couldn’t clone you is because you carry that coin! Even if you aren’t a priest, the relic provides a natural ward against their dark magic.”

“…”

“But if they collect enough relics, that protection will fail. The Bishop will be able to clone you just as he did me, and the destruction they’ll cause will be catastrophic.”

Kadim felt a headache brewing at the thought of dozens of versions of himself tearing through the city.

He finally understood the web of events.

‘The Night Raven Faction partnered with Galentana’s elite to get relics… and now they’re using that power to hunt for more.’

He knew who to target now. He even had a strong suspicion about Ilenia’s true identity.

But one detail bothered him.

“I get the coin part, but why are they calling me the ‘source of calamity’? If the Elga Church is their enemy, why are they obsessed with me?”

“I will explain that once the dust settles. For now, understand that the Bishop is operating under a massive, dangerous delusion regarding you.”

“…”

That was enough talk.

Dealing with demons was tedious enough; he didn’t need a cultist crusade on his plate. They had drawn first blood, and Kadim wasn’t a man who left enemies behind to regroup.

He stood up, the chair scraping against the floor.

“I’m going to go collect their heads. Where is the Night Raven Faction hiding?”

“What?”

The sheer casualness of his tone stunned Ilenia.

“They are likely in the northern slums of Galentana, protected by the local syndicates. The gangs there are deeply connected to the university faction. They’ll be hunkered down there, consolidating their power.”

“Do you have an address?”

“We are still narrowng it down. I was going to investigate today before the clones jumped me. I should have a location within three days.”

“I’m not waiting three days. I’ll just start breaking bones until someone tells me where the Bishop is.”

“I… I beg your pardon?”

“When I get back, you’re telling me the whole story. Don’t forget.”

Without waiting for a response, Kadim turned and walked out. Ilenia scrambled after him, her face pale.

“M-mercenary! Wait! You can’t mean you’re going to fight every gang in the slums by yourself?”

“That’s exactly what I mean.”

“…”

Ilenia stood in the doorway, her mouth slightly open, watching his broad shoulders disappear into the distance.

—

The city of Galentana was a place of high intellect and low morals.

It was a paradox: a hub of scholarship and a den of vice.

The northern slums served as a dark mirror to the university. Here, the pursuit of knowledge took different forms. You had scholars studying the limits of the human body with expensive prostitutes, students researching the effects of illicit chemicals, and wealthy merchants learning the cold reality of loss at the gambling tables. It was a place where everyone was a student of something, even if it was just the physics of a street brawl.

The relationship between the university faction doctors and the slum lords was built on mutual benefit. The doctors protected the slums from legal interference, and the gangs provided muscle and “research materials.”

This was why the gangs had been happy to house a weird cult at the doctors’ request.

“Boss, let me get this straight. We’re supposed to pick a fight with every barbarian we see?”

“That’s the order.”

“I mean, sure, but why? People are calling them heroes for the Golden Highway thing. That one guy—the ‘Demon Seducer’ or whatever?”

“It’s ‘Slayer,’ you idiot. And don’t ask questions. When the doctors say we make the barbarians look like violent animals, we make them look like violent animals. Stir up some trouble.”

The thug grumbled but didn’t argue further.

He wasn’t smart enough to understand the political nuances. The Agon faction was winning because of the Atalan heroes, so the university faction wanted to ruin the reputation of those heroes by making them seem like uncontrollable savages.

The thug stepped out into the muddy street, looking for someone to bleed.

“What are you looking at, you little rat?”

He broke a passing man’s nose, spat in a beggar’s cup, and shoved his way through the crowd, but his mood didn’t improve. He needed a big target.

Then, he saw him. A massive, bear-like man with a permanent scowl, carrying enough steel to arm a small squad.

Normally, a sane man would walk the other way. But the thug had the backing of his gang and zero common sense. He grinned, sensing an opportunity to impress his boss.

“Hey! You! Muscle-brain! Over here.”

“…”

“Yeah, I’m talking to you, barbarian trash. What are you doing in a civilized place like this? Go find a cave to rot in instead of stinking up our streets.”

Moments later, the thug was on the ground, his shoulder screaming in its socket and his hand looking like a crushed grape.

“AAAGGHH! MY HAND! GODS, MY HAND!”

“…”

Kadim hadn’t even struck him. The thug had tried to shoulder-check him, lost his balance, and Kadim had “caught” him by the hand to steady him. He hadn’t used any more force than necessary, yet the thug’s bones had simply given up.

Kadim rubbed his jaw. This saved him the trouble of hunting for a lead. He grabbed the man’s other wrist and spoke calmly.

“Where is the Night Raven Faction? Who is hiding the Forgotten God’s people?”

“I don’t—AAAGH! I don’t know! Let go! Please!”

“Then take me to your boss.”

“The tavern! Down the alley! He’s at the tavern! Just let me go!”

“I appreciate the help. Let me get you back on your feet.”

Kadim hauled the man up with a firm grip.

*Snap. Crackle. Pop.*

The thug’s second hand was ruined in the “clumsy” process of helping him up. The man collapsed back into the mud, howling in a mix of agony and terror.

Kadim—ever the student of proper etiquette in this city of learning—left the man there.

He turned toward the alleyway tavern, drawing his glowing blue axe and his crimson sword. If the locals wanted a lesson in anatomy, he was more than prepared to teach it.