Chapter 113
Chapter 113
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 113
Chapter Title: Judgment of Atala (16)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
The Wilderness Shamaness dreamed a faded dream.
Sunlight blazed brilliantly.
So brilliantly. The halo of light spreading gradually, the warmth gently tickling her skin, the crimson glow visible even behind closed eyelids. Her heart thumped and kicked like a petulant child, resentful that she couldn't carry that light in her eyes forever.
That sunlight was the last she would ever see in her lifetime.
"……."
She watched until afterimages dotted her vision like scattered beads before finally tearing her gaze away.
At her feet lay ancient stone tablets inscribed with script. Beside her stood others who would share her fate—young Wilderness Shamanesses, their faces still bearing traces of innocence. Already, ninety-five shamanesses had been sealed away in ruins across the continent. Now, only five remained, herself included.
And among them stood the greatest Wilderness Shamaness of all.
A woman who had lost her eyes yet saw far more than those with two. The unparalleled hero who had aided Atala's Great Warrior in subjugating the archdemon. The one who had devised and executed the plan to await the Great Warrior from beginning to end.
The Blind-eyed Shamaness, Cyril.
Her white hair, cascading to her waist, shimmered like waves of platinum in the sunlight. Even with half her face shrouded in ragged cloth, her mysterious aura and noble beauty shone undimmed. Exhaustion from days of relentless marches had hollowed her cheeks, but...
Cyril approached the shamaness without a hint of her own weariness, her voice soft.
"...You're trembling quite a bit, aren't you?"
The shamaness knew Cyril couldn't see, yet she shook her head anyway.
"No. Quite the opposite... I'm happy. Finally, I can join my departed sisters in this sacred mission."
Cyril's thin lips curved in a bittersweet line.
"I'm sorry... for saddling you with such a heavy burden. It won't be easy—agonizing, in fact. But endure for hundreds, thousands, tens of thousands of days... endlessly. He will come, so please don't lose faith. If the wait becomes too much, curse my name, resent me as much as you like..."
"...That will never happen. Don't worry, Blind-eyed Shamaness. You know my epithet well enough."
Her epithet was 'Shamaness of Endurance'—earned by outlasting others through tedium and hardship several times over. In a way, this very mission seemed tailor-made for her.
The corner of Cyril's mouth lifted ever so faintly.
"Yes. That's why... after consulting with the others yesterday, we've decided to entrust you with the 'Engraving Needle'—and some vitally important items."
Cyril's hand brushed the air lightly. A gentle breeze stirred, and before them appeared a root-like relic and a jet-black axe.
The shamaness's eyes widened like a startled rabbit.
"B-Blind-eyed Shamaness...? These are...?"
Cyril gave a brief explanation.
The one on the left was the 'Root of the Wilderness'—an exceedingly dangerous relic. Seal it tightly and ensure it never falls into anyone's hands. The one on the right was 'Judgment of Atala'. The Great Warrior would surely seek it upon his return, so safeguard it well and hand it over when the time comes.
The shamaness blinked in utter bewilderment.
"Why... entrust such vital items to me? Surely it would be better for you, the Blind-eyed Shamaness, to keep them yourself..."
"……."
The woman who had wandered endless darkness after losing her sight offered a serene smile. In that smile, the shamaness read an indescribable holiness, an unerasable longing, and a neatly folded resignation—like a burial shroud prepared in advance.
As if her days were already numbered...
"Where do we come from, and where do we go...? Is there any question that torments the living more? The laws of the Wilderness say that warriors and shamanesses go to a paradise of endless war and revelry upon death. But during those long nights in the demon realm, where we couldn't see an inch ahead, the Great Warrior and we would always say..."
"……."
"'One day, in a field where the sun never sets, let's meet again, smiling like the moon.'"
"……."
"...Even if some of us finish our journeys first."
The shamaness's heart plummeted. Cyril gazed toward the distant sun with eyes that could hold no light.
"Paradise with the Father of the Wilderness sounds fine... but a place where all the ones we miss gather wouldn't be so bad either, would it? Far in the future, when you complete your mission, if you can come there and we reunite... that would be wonderful, ■■■..."
Static crackled through the sound. Like pages of an overhandled ancient tome fraying apart, fragments of memory tore away, and her mind surged back to the surface of consciousness.
"...Gasp."
When she opened her eyes again, the shamaness faced Atala's Great Warrior across eons.
*
Rumble...
The last rock giant fell. The ruins' phantoms faded entirely. Kadim withdrew his divine power and approached the shamaness. She lay ruined, like a battered ancient statue.
"……."
A brilliant flash gleamed from beneath her dust-covered waist. The 'Engraving Needle'—undoubtedly Cyril's creation. Kadim scooped it up at once and plunged it into his iron canteen.
The needle tip, gorged on blood and glowing crimson-hot, he stabbed into his right abdomen. The released vitality from his flesh sharpened into form. Stronger and more vicious blood than before—it twisted fiercely, dazing his mind and numbing his senses with each coil.
Still, the ordeal didn't last long. Patiently waiting, the form stabilized.
Kadim had successfully inscribed 'Pebylatus's Tattoo' without borrowing the shamaness's hand.
"Hoo..."
A rewarding success.
Now he could revert his body to its first-playthrough state without limit on uses. Moreover, summoning divine power granted immunity to berserk frenzy, allowing him to wield 'first-playthrough strength' without risk of rampage—at least for a time.
Of course, it didn't mean complete liberation from berserk frenzy.
Divine power came at a cost. Prolonged use would inevitably collapse the body. And those side effects grew exponentially stronger over time, requiring interminable cooldowns to subside. In other words, maintaining it indefinitely for constant immunity was practically impossible.
If divine power alone could perfectly control berserk frenzy, he wouldn't have suffered so in the first playthrough.
'Even so...'
He'd gained a rein on berserk frenzy, and overwhelming might beyond compare. Enough to casually tear apart even middling high demons.
More dazzling than physical gains was his mental growth. By affirming his warrior's self and shouldering all karma, he'd severed his deep-seated inner conflict. No more denying his deeds, failing to summon divine power, or faltering at illusions like canned beer.
Not in this other world—until the day he fulfilled his mission of struggle.
"...Gasp."
The shamaness, thought dead, stirred. Kadim approached. A frail voice, stripped of venom, rasped out.
"Cough... It really is you, Great Warrior... Heh heh... Such majestic divine power... First I've ever seen... Seems even heavenly Atala had... good reason for your departure..."
"Took you long enough to notice."
"Indeed... heh heh. Never dreamed our ancient reunion... would be like this... Cough, cough... How can I ever... face the Blind-eyed Shamaness..."
"……."
"In any case... I have no excuses... Blinded by greed and delusion... I judged wrongly. I deeply... apologize for this foolish old body's sins..."
"Should've apologized before siccing those rock golems and throwing your tantrum."
Thud—!
"...Keurk!"
Kadim's foot pinned the shamaness. Her ribcage shattered, chest caving in. He gazed dryly at her agonized face, then slowly lifted his foot and sat before her.
"If you're truly sorry, answer my questions. Did Cyril entrust 'Judgment of Atala' to you? Did you pass it to Agon's Furious Horn? And did you turn this land into a wasteland?"
"Cough, cough... Hoo... Yes, all... true..."
Gasping on the brink of death for a moment, the shamaness confessed every detail, answers entwined with backstory. With each revelation, shadows darkened Kadim's face.
"Then... what of Cyril? Did she choose sealing after handing those to you?"
"The Blind-eyed Shamaness... probably not... She seemed... already resolved to end her life. Presumptuous as it is... chances she remained in the world... aren't high..."
"……."
Kadim closed his eyes tightly.
He'd thought that might be preferable, yet the choking emotions refused to settle. Right fist clenched, trembling left hand—fingers crushed—shaking, he finally composed himself and spoke.
"...Understood. One last question. Why call me the 'source of calamity'?"
The shamaness flinched, shoulders hunching in torment, before reluctantly confessing.
"Visions... dreadful... ominous visions. Your flesh tearing open... a horrific calamity bursting forth... That's what I saw. Did you... seal something in your body... during your absence?"
"……."
Kadim stroked his chin lightly.
At first, nonsense. But something surfaced. The vision when he'd slain the high demon Pebylatus and fallen to berserk—a contour redder than the demon's blood, emerging from a pit.
Yet its nature eluded him entirely. Seal something while away? He'd started the second playthrough right after the first. Nothing fit. He pressed, but the shamaness knew as little. He'd hoped for answers; instead, only questions multiplied.
Still, he'd uncovered all he could.
She'd die on her own soon enough, but the Great Warrior sought no such end. He rose to deliver judgment himself.
"What is your name."
"……."
"You've committed sins warranting soul-annihilation. But considering the torment of your endless wait, I'll at least remember that name."
Her parched lips cracked in bitter amusement.
"This old body... wandered so long... I lost my name... But please... one last request...?"
"No."
Shamelessness had limits. The jet-black axe rose mercilessly. With shattered arms, the shamaness desperately hauled herself up.
"Pl-Please! Spare Goltaran! Agon's Furious Horn alone! If someone wields the blade... punish the hand that holds it... What sin has the blade, swung by its master's will?"
Deep furrows creased Kadim's brow.
"...Absurd. Is Agon's Furious Horn some brainless idiot incapable of thought?"
"Y-Yes, exactly! He's just a fool duped by this old body's cunning! Desperate to survive, to save his persecuted kin, he mistook me for the true Great Warrior—a weak, stupid fool!"
"……."
"All sins are mine... I'll endure any lash, gladly hurl myself to hell's depths. So please, spare Goltaran, just Goltaran... Cough, cough, cough..."
Kadim's face hardened like iron plating. After silent deliberation, he thrust the axe blade before her nose and jerked his chin—a clear demand to prove resolve with action, not words.
The shamaness asked no questions. Uttered no protests. She merely gazed one last time at Goltaran's face, a faint smile on her lips.
'One day... in the field... smiling... may we meet...'
Whispering her frail soliloquy, she slammed her forehead into the axe blade without hesitation.
Splurch—!
Dry flesh shattered, skull splitting like worm-eaten firewood. The force was so fierce it cleaved straight from head to back in a line. The body, aged across ages, crumbled to dust and scattered meaninglessly.
Hummm...
Kadim's lips quivered faintly. But soon, without emotion, he flicked off the dry flesh scraps clinging to the blade. Then turned toward Agon's Furious Horn—Goltaran.
The man slumbered oblivious to the world.
Berserk state long faded, wounds nearly healed. As if bathed in elixirs in the interim. Kadim coldly regarded the fake Great Warrior sprawled peacefully amid the chaos.
The shamaness had shown willingness to die protecting him. Yet Kadim withheld final judgment. Truth be told, her life offered just enough value to warrant consideration.
In his deliberation, a long-held principle resurfaced.
Never leave future troubles behind.
Allies, titles, status, honor, weapons... When 'Agon's Furious Horn' realized he'd lost everything, would he accept it without grudge?
"……."
Kadim reached his decision.
Crack—thud!
The axe blade mercilessly cleaved the fake Great Warrior's crown.