The Berserker’s Second Playthrough Novel - Chapter 98

Chapter 98
## Chapter 98: Judgment of Atala (1)

—

Deep within the heart of Agon’s arena.

The midday sun beat down mercilessly upon a dirt floor stained by layers of perspiration and old blood. Enclosed by the high stone barrier of the ring, two warriors stood stripped to the waist, clutching their bucklers and blades. Salty sweat pooled above their brows and ran down their faces, yet neither dared to blink, their eyes locked in a lethal stare.

In this place, it was a certainty that only one of them would survive to see the stars.

“Waaaaaaah!”

“Kill him already! Stop dancing around and gut him!”

“Don’t be cowards! We didn’t come here to watch you stare at each other all day!”

The air was thick with the raucous, jagged cries of the mob.

This was a clash between nobodies—low-tier gladiators with no names to speak of. The turnout was modest, yet the people in the stands howled with a bloodthirsty fervor that felt predatory and hollow, enough to make a man’s stomach churn.

“Uwaaaaaah!!”

Driven by the mounting pressure of the insults, the fighter on the left finally snapped. He lunged forward with a desperate, wild swing of his steel. The audience leaned in, their voices rising into a crescendo of anticipation.

“Waaaaaaah!!”

The climax they craved, however, never came.

Puk—!

With a practiced, almost bored efficiency, the man on the right stepped into the strike, burying his sword deep into his opponent’s throat. A violent spray of crimson erupted as the blade found the vital artery.

“Gurk.”

The fallen man clutched at the hole in his neck, his eyes rolling back. He thrashed in the dirt, frantically clawing at the earth to plug the wound with handfuls of soil, but his lungs were already failing. After a few more frantic twitches, he went still.

It was an embarrassingly brief conclusion.

The fans, who had paid for a spectacle of prolonged suffering, responded with a chorus of venomous boos.

“Boooo!!”

“You call that a fight? My grandmother has more spirit in her!”

“I want my money back, you useless hacks!”

Since the dead cannot defend their honor, the weight of the crowd’s hatred fell entirely on the victor.

Shaken and visibly anxious, the surviving gladiator began to frantically mutilate the corpse of his fallen foe, hoping to satisfy the mob’s hunger for gore. It was only after he had hacked the body into unrecognizable tatters that the jeers finally turned into a dull, satisfied murmur.

The scene looked less like sport and more like a depraved ritual sacrifice.

—

High above the common seats, tucked away in the shadows of a luxury VIP box, Adonis leaned toward the massive warrior sitting beside him.

“So, mercenary, what do you make of it? Even a pathetic amateur like that walks away with 5,000 luden for a win. Imagine the purse for someone of your caliber. It would be like picking up gold off the street.”

“…….”

“Ah, right, the council has already paid you a handsome retainer, so you aren’t hurting for coin… but surely a bit extra wouldn’t hurt? Hahaha…….”

Despite the chaos he had sparked the previous day, Kadim had faced no punishment. The Arena King had seen to that personally. On the contrary, Kadim had been granted sanctuary, the finest accommodations, and the company of a council healer.

It was a transparent attempt to seduce him into the life of a gladiator. The goal was to show him how easily wealth could be won by the strong.

Adonis had spent the better part of the morning trying to convince him to come here, and now he watched Kadim’s face closely, desperate for a spark of interest.

Kadim remained a statue of indifference, but someone else spoke up.

“Ugh…… Healer sir…… Is this really necessary? He didn’t have to do that to the body…….”

“…….”

Adonis ignored the whimpering porter. He kept his focus on Kadim, but when no answer came, he sighed and turned his attention back to the pit.

The spectacles rolled on. It wasn’t just men killing men; beasts were pitted against slaves, and monsters fought one another. The crowd went wild when a gladiator’s limb was torn off, and they laughed when a terrified fighter begged for mercy at the gates.

As Kadim watched this parade of filth and gore, he felt a profound sense of revulsion.

It wasn’t because of the cruelty; he had seen far worse on actual battlefields. It wasn’t just the blood. It was everything—the mocking crowd, the walls that kept the killers separate from the spectators, the greedy owners, and the very soil of the arena itself. It all felt fundamentally wrong.

He felt an old, heavy weight pressing against his chest—a sense of duty he couldn’t ignore.

Wuuung—

Suddenly, a pulse of light flickered.

Kadim’s shoulders tensed as he shifted his gaze. He reached for the stone token at his belt, gripping the small gem embedded in its center. A needle-thin ray of light emanated from the stone, pointing straight down into the foundations of the arena.

A ‘relic’ was buried beneath the blood-soaked dirt.

Without uttering a single word, Kadim stood up.

“……Mercenary? Where are you going? The main event hasn’t even started!”

“Sir? Wait for us!”

Ignoring them, Kadim pushed through the corridors. He navigated through the crowds of grumbling gamblers and descended a hidden spiral staircase that clung to the outer wall.

He had expected a new relic to manifest. He had already decided which power to claim once he passed the coming trial: the blood of Pevylathus, a high-ranking demon that would allow him to tap into the strength he possessed during his first life.

That essence was currently the only thing keeping him capable of surviving a true crisis, and he could feel it beginning to lose its potency. If he could ink it into a tattoo now, he could preserve its power before it withered away.

But his motivation wasn’t just self-preservation. His gut told him the relic being here was no accident.

He hurried through the subterranean tunnels. Here, the smell of expensive wine was replaced by the stench of old sweat and iron. He saw no fans here, only exhausted fighters and slaves hauling armor. Kadim followed the guiding light of his token toward the center of the structure.

Before he could reach it, a group of armed men blocked his path.

“Who’s this? I don’t recognize you.”

“Are you with the Indomitable Legion? How’d you get down here?”

The gladiators leveled their spears. Kadim’s brow furrowed in annoyance.

“I have business here. It’ll be quick, so stay out of my way.”

“Is that right? Ha! Sorry, pal, this is a restricted zone. Only fighters allowed. What business could you possibly have?”

“Wait…… look at him. Isn’t that the guy from the training grounds yesterday? The one who nearly choked the life out of the boss?”

“What……? That’s him?”

The gladiators flinched, their grips tightening on their weapons. Kadim’s expression soured as he reached for his blood ghost. He wasn’t looking for a fight, but he wasn’t going to be stopped.

Just as the tension reached a breaking point, the healer arrived, gasping for breath.

“Stop! What do you think…… you’re doing? Huff…… this man is the boss’s personal guest!”

“……What?”

“Who are you supposed to be?”

“I am Adonis, a healer for the Galen Council. I was sent by Yubik himself to look after this man. Didn’t your captain tell you to show him respect?”

Adonis held up his signet ring. The gladiators immediately lowered their spears, though their confusion remained.

“But Healer…… this is the staging area. The boss was very clear about outsiders being here to prevent any tampering with the matches…….”

Adonis looked at Kadim and saw the unwavering determination in the man’s eyes. He knew Kadim wasn’t going to turn back.

“Fine,” Adonis said, a plan forming in his head. “Then make him an insider.”

“What do you mean?”

Adonis pulled Kadim aside and whispered urgently.

“Mercenary, do me this one favor, and I’ll get you through that door.”

“…….”

“Just agree to consider becoming a gladiator. Just one talk with Yubik. He’s the one who really runs this place, and he’s the only one who can help you find Agon’s Furious Horn…….”

Kadim looked skeptical. He knew a ‘talk’ with a man like Yubik was never just a talk.

However, he didn’t want to slaughter his way through a dozen guards if he didn’t have to. He needed information on Agon’s Furious Horn, and if this fat merchant held the keys, he had to play the game for now.

Kadim clicked his tongue and gave a short, sharp nod.

Adonis beamed and turned back to the guards with newfound authority.

“This man is our newest recruit. He’ll be entering the pits soon, so he’s one of you now. Let him through, or I’ll make sure Yubik hears about your interference!”

The gladiators exchanged looks of hesitation before stepping aside.

Kadim didn’t thank them; he simply followed the beam of light deeper into the dark.

—

### ◇◇◇◆◇◇◇

In a hidden, cramped chamber, a soft golden radiance pushed back the shadows.

Ancient iron fixtures were swallowed by thick, sprawling vines. The floor was carpeted in vibrant flora that looked like the thick pelt of a beast. In this stagnant air, strange flowers bloomed with iridescent buds that flickered like candlelight.

A ritual circle was carved into the stone, mostly obscured by the growth, save for the center where a piece of ancient, rotting leather lay.

A wilderness shaman, who had not moved from this spot in centuries, slowly opened her clouded eyes.

“……The voices are calling out.”

Her voice was thin and metallic, like the ringing of a cracked bell.

“They call for you. They sing of your triumphs; the very earth, cleansed of the demonic blight, chants your name.”

“…….”

“You are magnificent, Great Warrior. To have already brought down a high demon of such rank…… My long vigil has not been in vain. You shall eclipse even the legends of old and become the world’s ultimate protector!”

The shaman looked toward a stone pool in the corner. Beside it sat a heavy black axe and a helmet with jagged horns. Within the pool, a shimmering gold liquid rippled.

A man sat submerged in the fluid. His massive body was a map of scars and old wounds. He glanced at the shaman with a look of pure irritation.

“……How many times do I have to tell you, shaman? That wasn’t me. I never even laid eyes on that demon.”

“Humility is expected, but a Great Warrior must have the conviction to lead. If it wasn’t you, the chosen of Atala, then who else could have done it?”

“…….”

Goltaran, the man known to the world as Agon’s Furious Horn, ground his teeth in frustration.

He was haunted. Could he really admit that a wandering madman had been the one to slay the central demon?

He had his doubts, but no proof. He had seen the destruction of the city, and he knew that if he admitted he had let such a monster walk free, the consequences would be dire. So he remained silent while his men spread the lie. Now, the world worshipped him as a hero for a deed he hadn’t touched.

The guilt was a heavy chain around his neck.

But what bothered him most were the words of the merchant who traveled with that stranger.

‘He is the true Great Warrior of Atala.’

‘…….’

‘Not a fraud seeking fame, but a man who bleeds for the world in silence.’

Those words had cut deep. The merchant had spoken with such absolute certainty that Goltaran had found himself inviting the stranger to Agon without thinking. He had even given up his last ‘elixir’ to help the man. Now, his own body was failing, and he was forced to soak in the shaman’s brew just to stay whole.

Goltaran looked at his reflection in the gold water. He didn’t see a hero; he saw a man hollowed out by lies.

“Tell me, shaman…… Am I just a fake? Am I just fighting for money and a name?”

The shaman’s eyes widened in fury.

“Blasphemy! Who would dare say such a thing? You have stayed in these pits for the sake of our people! You are the hero of our tribe! Think of the lives you have bought with your victories!”

“……But you told me once that a Great Warrior’s life is struggle, not comfort. You didn’t even want to call me by that title when we first met…….”

“I was…… my mind was weakened by the dark. Do not doubt yourself! Your will is the will of Atala! Destroy anyone who questions you! Drench the world in the blood of your enemies! Soon, the power of the shamans will return to full strength…….”

Suddenly, the shaman’s voice died in her throat. Her jaw dropped. Goltaran looked at her, sensing the shift.

“……What is it? What’s happened?”

“…….”

The shaman felt a presence. It was alien, powerful, and dangerously close.

She looked at the ceiling as if she could see through the stone. She felt like a tree about to be struck by a bolt of lightning.

Frantically, she gathered her fading power, drawing a glowing sigil in the air and slamming her palm against it. A heavy vibration shook the room, followed by a sharp, rebounding sound.

Thud—woong!

Then, a heavy, oppressive silence.

Goltaran stared at her, utterly confused. The shaman didn’t explain. Her small, withered frame was shaking as she whispered to herself.

“No, it’s impossible. It can’t be back. I won’t allow it…….”

“…….”

This was a sanctuary designed by the most powerful shaman of the wilderness to welcome the true Great Warrior.

Because she was terrified, she said nothing. Goltaran never knew that a visitor had just been forcibly cast out.

—

### ◇◇◇◆◇◇◇

Kadim reached a stone slab inscribed with ancient, weathered runes.

He reached out, his hand connecting with the cold surface. For a split second, the reality around him began to peel away like old paper.

Kiririririring…….

But the moment he tried to step into the relic’s space, a violent force slammed into him, throwing him back to the tunnel floor.

Thud—woong!

It felt like a door being slammed and locked in his face.

He tried to touch the slab again, but the connection was dead. Kadim stood there in the dark, his eyes narrowing.

“…….”

He stared at the stone with a cold, piercing intensity, as the truth of the situation began to dawn on him.