Chapter 110
Chapter 110
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 110
Chapter Title: Chapter 110
-----------------------------------------------------------------
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 110
Chapter Title: Judgment of Atala (13)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
The arena in Agon had become a hellscape, as if a chunk of the underworld had been ripped out and stitched onto the city.
Boom!Rumble rumble rumble...
"Uwaaaaaaaaah!!!"
"Kyaeeeeeeeeek!!!"
The isolation barriers crumbled, and the spectator stands collapsed. An enormous crowd, rivaling the population of a small city, surged toward the exits. At narrow doorways barely wide enough for a dozen people at once, hundreds, thousands, tens of thousands trampled and crushed one another to death.
Ironically, those farthest from the exits sat resignedly in their seats, clinging to life. And by sheer coincidence, they realized who had caused this catastrophe.
"Wait, isn't that... Agon's Furious Horn?"
"What? So the bastard who started all this chaos is..."
"Agon's Furious Horn has gone mad! The champion is killing people!!"
The champion everyone had eagerly awaited: Agon's Furious Horn.
The spectators stared at the arena in stunned silence. But upon closer inspection, it wasn't mere rampage. The building collapses were mere collateral damage—the champion had been relentlessly targeting one prey from the start.
The challenger vying for the new champion's throne: Demon Slayer.
Splat—slash! Whoosh—thud!Kaboom! Boom—!
The champion and challenger exchanged furious blows. The battle had begun at a completely unexpected moment, in a completely unexpected way. Yet there it was, the finals unfolding right before their eyes.
"... "
"... "
A few blood-soaked spectators returned to their seats. The gamblers whose brains had long fried didn't even budge. Groans of the injured echoed from all around, but no one spared them a glance. To these people, witnessing a match that would become eternal legend outweighed their own lives—or anyone else's.
"Yeah, that's it! Kill him quick, Agon's Furious Horn!!"
"Quit running already, Demon Slayer! How long are you gonna scurry like a rat?!!"
The berserk champion held the advantage, but the challenger's resistance was no joke. The clash of these two monstrous powerhouses only intensified. The moment spectators saw both sides chug mysterious canteens by the slimmest margins, they instinctively knew the fight was hurtling toward its climax.
However, the god of struggle and wilderness had other plans.
Regrettably, no one else could treat the warriors' battle as mere entertainment.
―――――― Bang!Bang!Bang!
Crack, craaack...
Under relentless impacts, the barriers had already fully collapsed, and now cracks spread beneath the spectator stands. Those with even a shred of sanity fled in haste, while those without stayed glued to their seats in tense anticipation.
――――― Rumblerumblerumble—!
Finally, the floor gave way, sending everyone remaining in the stands plummeting underground.
"Uwaaaaaaaaah..."
"N-nooooo!! Just a little longer, please..."
Even as they tumbled into the Hall of Eternal Dreams to meet their end, the spectators and gamblers lamented not the death itself, but missing the fight's conclusion.
Agon's Furious Horn heaved his battle axe like a battering ram.
"Kuhk, kuuhuuu..."
"... "
Kadim felt an odd discomfort.
He was far more accustomed to rampaging in berserk fury himself than facing a frenzied foe. Fighting from the reversed position felt inherently awkward.
Of course, that was just for now. Give it a little time, and who knew? The "power of the first playthrough" came bundled with the "madness of the first playthrough." With a time bomb ticking inside him, he had only one viable strategy.
End it swiftly—cut the bastard's throat as fast as possible and reclaim the Judgment of Atala.
His hardened heel blasted the dirt at subsonic speed.
Boom!
Godspeed pierced the instant, closing the distance. Confusion flickered in eyes filled with black sclera. No room for counterattack. Kadim slammed his axe into the enemy's skull, stabbed his throat with the blade, and kicked his gut.
――――― Splat—crunch!
"...Kuhk!"
For the first time, a groan escaped Agon's Furious Horn—Goltaran. He crashed into a pile of rubble, kicking up a cloud of dust, then barely hauled himself back up.
Rumble...
"Kuhk, kuuhuuu..."
"... "
Blood streamed from his forehead and neck, his face smeared with dirt and pain. Yet his life force seemed unscathed.
Kadim didn't care. It was the expected outcome. The "divinity of Atala" wasn't just raw power amplification.
Its effects granted immunity to all debuffs, amplified all combat-related stats, and boosted resistance to damage immensely. The bastard's hide was as tough as layers of dwarven plate armor.
'...But even that can't stop the collapse of the flesh.'
It reduced damage, but wasn't true invincibility. The solution was simple.
Keep attacking until the accumulated damage shattered him.
Boom!
Kadim kicked off the ground again. Goltaran raised his battle axe, ready to counter.
The moment he entered striking range, the jet-black axe whipped through like a gale.
――――――――― Whiiiiiish—!
A surging yellowish trajectory sent chills down the spine. But Kadim calmly shifted his center, dodged, and kicked the axe's side. The recoil from the swing amplified, sending Goltaran staggering forward off-balance.
"Kuuhuu...?"
His black pupils wavered. It was an acrobatic feat beyond common sense—he could scarcely believe his eyes. Kadim seized the moment of vulnerability, gripped Blood Ghost, and lunged, tracing a sword path to vital points.
――――――― Stab—!
Monstrous strength focused from hilt to blade to razor-sharp tip. No amount of resistance could withstand it. The yellowish divinity cracked, leaving a shallow gash on Goltaran's forearm.
"Kuuk!"
――――――― Whoosh—!
Kadim dodged the enraged axe swing and thrust again. The combo landed repeatedly, the shallow wound deepening steadily.
But around then, Kadim halted his assault and pulled back slightly.
Humm, humm, humm, humm...
Blood Ghost emitted highly unstable vibrations. Not the most durable weapon, it apparently couldn't handle the first playthrough's full strength.
No big issue. He could overwhelm with bare fists alone now. He swapped to Thunderclap, then closed in until his fingertips could almost touch.
The brutal melee raged on.
――――――― Splat—slash! Whooosh, boom!!
Goltaran's attacks remained terrain-altering in destructiveness, but they lacked substance. His ferocious axe swings mostly pulverized innocent buildings and ground. Kadim's strikes, hampered by weapon choice in raw power, were almost always effective. They pierced the fortified divinity, steadily accumulating damage on the foe.
Frankly, in overall combat prowess, Goltaran held the edge. With divinity active and "berserk" buff stacked, his physical stats matched Kadim's first playthrough, and his weapon was incomparably superior.
Yet the reason he was losing boiled down to one thing.
He fought on pure instinct, bereft of reason.
When power is equal, rationality wins hands down. A berserker compensates for impaired judgment with overwhelming presence and might—but with comparable physiques, he lost every microexchange.
And it wasn't just momentary lapses. Goltaran failed even in the overarching tactical flow.
As signs of bodily breakdown emerged, he fumbled at his waist—then suddenly twisted his face.
"Kuuhuk...?"
All four remaining iron canteens were mangled wrecks. During the exchanges, Kadim had slyly targeted and destroyed them. With his spare elixirs gone, side effects were now inevitable.
Crunch, squelch...
His joints melted; his left arm dangled limp. His right flopped uselessly, legs wobbling bonelessly. Skin sloughed off his entire body in gooey sheets.
"Kuhk, kuuhuuu!"
Goltaran refused to yield, rallying his remaining divinity for desperate struggle. But the fight's outcome was already decided. Kadim wasted no time and moved straight to the finish.
The wavy axe blade mercilessly severed his windpipe.
――――― Craaack!
Divinity surged to the impact point, but too late. The surface crumpled like cleaved mud. Gushing blood mixed with mushy flesh; Goltaran groaned and dropped to one knee.
"Kuuuhhh..."
Kadim stomped his nape for the killing blow.
――――――― Boom!!
A heavy thud echoed through the earth.
His face buried deep in the dirt, cratering the area. Goltaran's shattered skull ensured he wouldn't rise again. Kadim wiped blood from his face and cleaned flesh from the axe blade.
"... "
The battle was over.
But the truly crucial step came next. Under the laws of the wilderness, claiming spoils was the victor's right. Kadim approached the fallen loser.
Goltaran didn't yield his divine weapon easily. Even with his face jammed in the dirt, refusing defeat, he gripped the axe haft tightly.
Snap, snap, snap—
...But once every finger was broken one by one, even that stubbornness crumbled.
Kadim drew a deep breath. After trials untold, he had reclaimed it at last. He solemnly lifted the jet-black axe from the giant's corpse.
Judgment of Atala.
The battle axe that beheaded a great demon in the first playthrough, summoning death and ruin.
The divine weapon, returned to its master's hand after 300 years abandoned, putting an end to its tragic history.
Relief and triumph flooded him like a tide. The axe head etched with pristine ancient runes on jet-black, the long black haft, the hefty grip filling his palm... All matched his first playthrough memories perfectly. Though his second time claiming it, the joy of conquest shone undimmed.
Still, too soon for sentiment. He sharpened his focus. With the divine weapon reclaimed, now to summon the "divinity" and complete the judgment.
Kadim dredged up the incantation from memory and chanted.
The earth resonated with the chant. Wind stirred the dust immediately, and yellowish energy seeped from the jet-black axe, wrapping his shoulders and arms...
Whiiiiiish—
...or not.
By chant's end, nothing but a faint breeze had stirred.
"...?"
He recited it again. Still nothing. Doubting his memory, he tried variations. Same result. He fiddled with the axe every way imaginable, but no matter what, the "divinity of Atala" refused to manifest.
Instead, the near-dead enemy twitched in response to the noise.
'Kuuk...'
"... "
Ba fflement shadowed Kadim's face.
He couldn't even guess the cause.
The weapon hadn't lost its power—hadn't the bastard just wielded its divinity fine moments ago? He even entertained the absurd notion that the weapon resented being discarded in the first playthrough and withheld its might.
'Kuuhuk, kuuhuu...'
The ragged breathing grated on his ears. Agon's Furious Horn was wrenching his face from the dirt. He should be dead already, yet his tenacity was monstrous.
At the same time, faint red haze crept into his vision's edge. An ill omen. Without summoning the divinity soon, berserk madness would erupt imminently...
"... "
Perhaps the key lay not here, but there. On impulse, he decided to finish the bastard off and retry the chant.
But as he stepped forward one foot.
Scraaape—
A sudden crackling pierced his ears.
And the world's texture warped dramatically.
Scrape, scraaape, scraaape, scraaaaperaperape...
Like wallpaper being torn away, the ruined arena's scenery peeled off roughly.
The distant background lost depth, flattening. Beyond the shed fragments, shadows of an enclosed space flickered through. As if the arena's facade had been partially stripped, revealing the bare ruin walls behind.
This bizarre overlay of arena and ruin.
A voice like a cracked iron bell echoed within.
[Origin of Catastrophe that would Ruin the World... Your impudent rampage ends here! Drop the divine weapon and step away from the great warrior at once, or face the stern Judgment of Atala...]
Kadim raised his hollow gaze, scowling...
He suddenly split his lips in a brilliant grin.
Ah, this is fun.