The Berserker’s Second Playthrough Novel - Chapter 85

Chapter 85
## Chapter: 85

### Chapter Title: Followers of the Forgotten God (7)

—

A respectable pub is defined by the fragrant aroma of grain alcohol paired with the savory scent of toasted snacks.

In such establishments, the air is thick with hearty laughter and the sounds of boisterous singing. These are gathering spots for anyone seeking a good meal, regardless of who they are. While a clumsy drunk might spark a minor scuffle now and then, things rarely turn bloody or result in a tragedy.

A wretched tavern, however, smells of stale, acrid tobacco and the cheap perfume of streetwalkers.

These dens are characterized by either aggressive shouting or the hushed, grim conspiracies of the lawless. The patrons are a mix of desperate gamblers, addicts, johns, and predatory criminals. The tables are stained by foul language and crude jokes, and it is common for a disagreement to end with a flash of steel or a heavy fist.

Yet, even that description didn’t quite capture the horror of this specific place.

The truly abysmal taverns are those that reek of fresh iron and the cold shadow of the grave.

*Schwick-crunch!*

This particular dive had just crossed the threshold into that final, bloody category.

“Urghaaaaagh!!”

Severed heads rolled across the floorboards, expressions frozen in a final moment of confusion. Vital organs spilled from torsos that had been sliced through with terrifying precision. Gory remnants of what were once men were plastered against the walls and ceiling.

More than a dozen criminals had been wiped out in a heartbeat, falling before the relentless axe and heavy blade of a fierce barbarian. Had they realized the caliber of their opponent, they might have greeted him with bowed heads instead of drawn steel—but regret is a cold comfort when the soul has already fled.

Kadim smeared the splattered blood from his brow and stepped toward the sole survivor.

“Where is your leader hiding?”

“U-urgh, urghaaaaagh….”

Only moments ago, when first confronted, the thug had barked back, “He’s busy digging a hole for your corpse,” before swinging a heavy flail with misplaced confidence.

No bribe in the world could restore that bravado now. The mere resonance of Kadim’s gravelly voice made the man’s knees buckle. As the edge of the axe hovered near his throat, the thug soiled himself, twitching like a beetle stuck in pitch.

“Urghaaaaagh! Downstairs! He’s in the cellar!! The boss is in the basement! Just take those steps in the corner, you’ll find him!! Please, have mercy!! Don’t end m—”

*Crunch-crack!*

“My thanks. Go join your friends in the afterlife.”

Kadim marched toward the corner staircase, leaving behind a man whose skull had been split to the chin.

The cellar was a dim, suffocating space that blurred the lines between a brothel and an opium den. A haze of smoke clouded the vision, and the brick-lined chambers were filled with filthy mattresses, discarded clothes, broken glass, and pipes. It was a multi-purpose hub for every vice imaginable.

Silence filled most of the rooms until the very end of the hall, where a muffled commotion broke the quiet. As Kadim approached the final door, it swung open, and a man stumbled out, still struggling to pull up his trousers.

“What’s all the damn noise up there… Ack!”

*Thud!*

Kadim drove the man into the floor and pinned him firmly. A knee pressed into the center of the thug’s back, causing his eyes to bulge with pressure.

“Guhk, u-ugh….”

“Kyaaaaagh!!”

“Kyaaaaagh!!”

Kadim glanced into the chamber. Five unclothed women were huddled on the oversized bed. He nearly scoffed. It was clear why the chaos above hadn’t alerted them; they were occupied.

The leader of the gang managed to crane his neck, glaring up at his captor.

“Who the hell are you…? Who put you up to this, you son of a…?”

“…I apologize for ruining the mood. I’m here for information regarding the Night Raven branch.”

“…!”

The boss shuddered, his bravado vanishing instantly. Unlike his grunts, he clearly recognized the name. Kadim increased the pressure on the man’s spine.

“Talk now, or I’ll ensure you never have a reason to visit a place like this again.”

“Aaaagh!! You maniac!!”

Desperate, the boss twisted his body and pulled a hidden knife from his waistband, lunging blindly.

It was a wasted effort. Kadim caught the man’s wrist in mid-air and snapped the bone like a dry twig. The blade fell uselessly to the stones.

“Gaaaaagh!! Gyaaaaagh!!”

The man wailed until his throat went raw. Once the initial shock faded, he sobbed, his eyes bloodshot and leaking tears.

“Hic… What… what are you…? Are you one of those demon slayers…? A savage from ‘Agon’s Furious Horn’…?”

“I see. You’ve decided you don’t need your manhood after all.”

“Guhk! No! Ask those girls! Those women are the fanatics from that cursed sect…!”

A sudden shimmer of metal cut the air before he could finish.

*Whish-thunk, thunk-thunk-thunk!*

“…Hrk!”

The projectiles bit into wood instead of flesh. Having sensed the shift in the air, Kadim had used the door as a shield.

He looked through the jagged holes in the wood. The women on the bed had donned black veils and were now wielding clusters of throwing knives.

He felt another surge of cynical amusement. They were playing the role of cultists for the Forgotten God in between their other duties. Their screams of terror had been nothing but a performance. They had found the time to put on masks, yet hadn’t bothered with clothes.

Nevertheless, their movements were far more disciplined than the amateur kidnappers he had dealt with previously.

*Rattle-crash, crunch!*

“Kyak!”

“…!”

Kadim kicked the remnants of the door inward and launched his axe, burying it in the skull of one cultist. The remaining women ghosted into the shadows of the room without a sound. Even in retreat, they expertly flicked blades through the narrowest openings—true assassins.

*Whish!*

Kadim shifted his head an inch to let a blade pass. He looked down at the gang boss with a flat expression.

“A brave group. Fighting five at once.”

“…That’s why I reached for the knife.”

*Thud, thunk, thud-thunk!*

Knives were failing to find their mark. Changing tactics, the cultists produced crossbows from the shadows. Heavy bolts began to tear the wooden door to splinters, showering the hallway in debris.

One bolt appeared to strike Kadim’s hand directly. The hidden women let out a cry of victory.

“The ‘Demon Slayer’ faces judgment!”

“Calamity meets its end!”

However, the bolt hadn’t pierced him.

*Whish-whoosh, thunk!*

“…Huh?!”

The projectile reversed direction, burying itself in the forehead of the woman who had fired it. One by one, the bolts were sent back with the same lethal velocity at which they were launched, finding homes in the cultists’ chests and throats. The women froze in confusion, wondering if their target was also armed with a hidden bow.

He wasn’t. He used only his hands.

Kadim was snatching the bolts out of the air and throwing them back with the force of a siege engine.

*Whish-whoosh, whish-whoosh, thunk!*

“…!!”

Their eyes went wide as they realized the impossibility of what they were seeing.

They couldn’t process the reality of the situation. If there had been time, perhaps they would have gathered together and prayed to the Forgotten God for a miracle.

But time had run out. Their bodies were already riddled with their own ammunition.

*Whish-whoosh, thunk!*

“Kyak!”

The final cultist’s mask flew off as a bolt pierced her temple. The room fell silent.

*Crunch-crack, crunch-crack, crunch-crack!*

Kadim walked through the room, reclaiming his axe and ensuring none of the fanatics would rise again. There were no other presences nearby. This wasn’t the primary sanctuary of their “Bishop.”

He would have to squeeze the rest from the boss. The man was now shaking like a leaf, staring at Kadim as if he were a ghost.

“Wh-what… ‘Demon Slayer’? You’re really him…? The one who cleared the Golden Highway of those monsters…?”

“…”

Kadim paused. He remembered the soldiers at the barricades using that title. He wondered how word had traveled to the gutters of the city so quickly, but he simply gave a short nod.

The boss let out a choked sound and pressed his forehead into the dirt.

“Dammit! You should have said so! I wouldn’t have lifted a finger if I knew! Wait, please—I’ll tell you every secret I have on those crazy cultists! Take the arm as a tribute, just let me live, Master Demon Slayer!”

“…”

Kadim frowned, unable to decide if the man was being genuinely pathetic or incredibly shrewd.

As evening shadows stretched across the city of Galentana, a group gathered at a warehouse used for impounded goods near the gates.

Men dressed in the traditional, flowing wool garments of the Agon Faction entered the building. A perimeter of guards and servants stood outside, ensuring privacy. The officer in charge brought his hand to his chest in a sharp greeting.

“Loyalty! May new wisdom and wealth cover this land!”

“Loyalty! May new wisdom and wealth cover this land!”

These men were the council members of the Agon Faction, the rising political force in the city.

They weren’t here for routine paperwork. They had been working without rest or food for days, but the news they received was too significant to delay.

Inside the warehouse, the stagnant heat and the sharp smell of decay were overwhelming. Yet, those discomforts were ignored the moment they saw the central display.

Piled high on a large transport cart were dozens of severed demon heads.

“Hah… This… by Remillion’s grace….”

“It defies logic… Didn’t the youngest Arch Paladin of the Empire only claim twenty trophies?”

“That was the record, yes.”

“There are twice that many here. And all from a single blade?”

Even with the reports, the physical evidence was staggering. The councilors whispered among themselves, the shock refusing to dissipate.

*Clap.* A young man with golden hair clapped his hands to silence the room. This was Adonis, the primary strategist and leader of the Agon Faction.

“Colleagues, the evidence is undeniable. Who else could have harvested such a number? Does anyone still doubt the reality of this?”

“…”

“The ‘Demon Slayer’… has arrived within our walls.”

The room went quiet as the weight of that statement settled.

They had successfully turned the recent chaos to their advantage. The demon crisis had been the foundation of their rise to power. By positioning Agon’s Furious Horn’s militia as the city’s saviors, they had almost secured their total control.

But there was one rogue element they hadn’t planned for.

The Demon Slayer, a mercenary shrouded in mystery.

At first, it seemed like a tall tale. But consistent reports from the front lines, including witnesses who saw him slay a greater demon, made it impossible to ignore. The councilors were all in agreement:

They needed him on their side.

Agon’s Furious Horn was their primary military asset, but he lacked a peer among the Atalain. If they could recruit the Demon Slayer, they would have a second legendary figure, cementing their authority and military might.

The university faction, their long-standing political rivals, were still a threat. If those academics managed to hire the Demon Slayer first, the balance of power in Galentana would remain deadlocked.

Now that he was definitely in the city, the race was on. One council member looked at Adonis, confused.

“If he brought these here, he’s looking for the bounty, right? Why wouldn’t he go to the main administration building or the council hall…?”

“That is the one detail I can’t explain. Regardless, I have scouts at every government office waiting for him to appear.”

“Should we hide this cart? If it stays here, the university faction will find out for sure…”

“It’s already too late for that. They made quite a scene coming through the gates—everyone knows. Our only priority now is to find the Demon Slayer before anyone else does.”

The sweltering, foul-smelling warehouse was a poor boardroom, but the urgency of the matter kept them there. They needed to act before the trail went cold.

Just as they were finalizing their plans, an assistant ran into the room, out of breath.

“Councilors! Urgent news! An Atalain mercenary is tearing apart the lower district. The city guards have been sent, but the situation is spiraling out of control. We can’t keep it quiet much longer.”

The councilors’ expressions turned to stone.

The danger was obvious. They had worked tirelessly to bring the mercenary forces under council oversight, convincing the public that the Atalain warriors were disciplined allies. If the narrative changed back to “violent barbarians,” their political foundation would crumble.

“A rogue Atalain… Could it be the Demon Slayer?”

“Unlikely… why would he forfeit his rewards to start a brawl in the slums?”

“It smells like a trap from the university faction. They likely hired a random mercenary to cause a scene and ruin our reputation…”

Adonis clenched his jaw. He wouldn’t let his rivals ruin his hard work. He stepped out and signaled to his elite guards.

“You heard the report. Get to the lower district and neutralize that mercenary. Do it quickly and quietly—and find out who is paying him.”

“…Understood.”

“After that, keep your eyes open for the Demon Slayer. He’s somewhere in this city. Perun, you were there during the mountain campaign—you’d know him on sight, wouldn’t you?”

The warrior with one arm closed his eyes for a second, the memory of a terrifying power flashing in his mind. He touched the metal hook that replaced his hand and nodded with absolute certainty.

“I will not miss him, councilor.”