Chapter 114
Chapter 114
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 114
Chapter Title: Atala's Judgment (17)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Goltaran screamed as he bolted upright.
"Keurgh!"
A throbbing pain split his skull like it was being cleaved in two, wrinkling the bridge of his nose involuntarily. Thinking his head had actually split open, he frantically patted the top of his skull.
Thankfully, his head was intact. What had split was his horned helmet, which was as much a part of him as his own identity.
The shattered helmet pieces clattered to the left and right. Goltaran dazedly lifted his gaze. A towering divine figure who had snatched his pitch-black axe filled his vision.
"Y-You... You bastard..."
Thwack!
"...Guh!"
A brutal kick slammed him back down. Kadim pinned Goltaran's solar plexus with his knee and pressed the axe blade right up against his throat.
"Without those horns on your head, it's a bit awkward to call you Agon's Furious Horn anymore."
"Urgh... What... What is this madness..."
"How much do you remember? Do you recall rampaging here while surrounded by divine artifacts?"
Goltaran's eyes widened sharply.
Flickering memories. Amid his shaking pupils, visions of the ruined arena and piles of corpses appeared. His strained voice trembled thinly, like the cry of a frightened beast.
"Did I... Did I do this? To this place... to these people?"
"About half of it."
"No... But... The divine artifacts should have freed me from all harm and curses... Why, why did I lose my mind and commit such horrors..."
"..."
The shaman's 'Berserk' spell was a buff, not a debuff like 'madness.' It didn't just strip away reason—it massively amplified combat prowess. That was the flaw of divine artifacts: they couldn't dispel blessings, even if the price bordered on a curse.
Kadim offered no such detailed explanation. He simply pressed the axe blade into Goltaran's flesh until blood welled up, then intoned coldly.
"Urgh..."
"The Wilderness Shaman faced judgment and perished. For manipulating the false Great Warrior, for insulting the true one, for laying waste to this land with forbidden idols—she confessed all her sins and returned to the dust of the wilds."
"...!"
"You too reveled in that farce, so you deserve judgment as well. But the shaman begged to spare you, calling you a fool lost in delusion. So, I'll grant you one final chance."
"..."
"Speak. Who are you?"
"...W-What?"
"I asked who you are."
The question came out of nowhere, yet it carried an oppressive weight that made the listener shrink. Goltaran steadied his trembling heart and sank into thought.
'Damn it, who am I? Obviously, I'm...'
As he tried to answer, the words caught in his throat.
Because he was no one at all.
Agon's Furious Horn? No. With the horned helmet that earned him the title shattered, there was no reason to call him that anymore.
Arena champion? No. After slaughtering so many spectators, no one would praise him as such.
Hero who saved the alliance? No. Killing the central demon and ending the rampage wasn't his achievement.
Leader of the Indomitable Legion? No. With even his most trusted subordinate gone, did he even qualify?
...Great Warrior of Atala?
Absolutely not.
It was just a name he'd claimed out of cowardice, fearing death. He knew better than anyone that he didn't deserve that glorious title.
"I... I... I am..."
His tongue felt leaden. He stammered like an idiot. Titles crumbled under negation after negation. His entire life, built on lies, collapsed from a single question.
In the end, only one name remained.
"I am... Goltaran."
"..."
"Just a coward, a nobody—Goltaran. That's... who I am."
A heartfelt confession, followed by tense silence.
After gazing down at the man who was nothing for a moment, Kadim withdrew his axe and slowly stood.
"Unlike what the shaman said, you're no fool. You know exactly who you are."
"..."
"Then swear it now, in Atala's name. That you'll never again covet the title of Great Warrior or 'Atala's Judgment.' And that you'll never interfere with my path in any way."
Goltaran's eyes and mouth twisted savagely. His face a mess of crying and laughing, tangled emotions, he asked plaintively.
"So... you really were Atala's Great Warrior?"
"..."
The axe blade returned, urging the oath instead of an answer. Goltaran complied for now. But as soon as the vow ended, Kadim picked up a shard of the horned helmet and turned to leave, as if his business was done.
Goltaran scrambled up and chased after him.
"W-Wait, just a moment! I have questions!"
"..."
"If you're truly the Great Warrior, why did you rampage like a madman in Soltana? If I hadn't seen only that side of you, I could have talked to you properly..."
Kadim jerked his head toward the debris and corpses.
Just like you, it wasn't by my own will.
Understanding the gesture, Goltaran faltered, at a loss for words. He'd tried to kill the Great Warrior without hesitation, yet the man showed mercy despite the same affliction. Suppressing his crumbling resolve, he asked again.
"Then why did you leave? Why vanish from this world without a word? If you'd left even a hint, someone like me never would have claimed to be the Great Warrior..."
Kadim's steps halted abruptly.
His eyes stared into a near yet distant past. It was an oddly fitting question. Reflecting on old days, he realized his life mirrored this false Great Warrior's in a strange symmetry.
That was why. Why he answered a question he'd normally ignore.
"...I thought my mission was complete. So I tried to return to where I belonged. My body and mind were in tatters; I had no spare breath to leave word."
"..."
"But it was a delusion. Just as you deluded yourself into being the Great Warrior, I deluded myself into thinking I was no longer one. I never imagined you'd endure years of hardship, only for another great evil to descend on this world."
"..."
"But I won't run anymore. I know now that unfinished duty remains. This world is my place too. Even if I burn out in struggle, I'll never abandon it again. So you... find a mission only a nobody like you can fulfill."
A clear question mark etched on Goltaran's face as he listened, entranced. Kadim sighed wearily and added a few words.
"I've heard you've steadily saved your persecuted kin."
"..."
"The Great Warrior's mission is struggle, not salvation. So perhaps someone who's not the Great Warrior can make salvation their mission instead?"
"...!"
Waves surged in Goltaran's eyes. But he soon drooped his head and muttered.
"How could I... presume to have that right? After all these people died because of me... To shamelessly try saving others again..."
"Karma demands it. Those who revel in others' pain and despair without a drop of blood on their hands are more demon than human. Don't bury yourself in the deaths of the worthless—focus on saving the valuable."
"..."
Storm-tossed black eyes. After perilous wavering, resolve finally formed. Goltaran asked firmly, his voice hoarse.
"Then... can I take that mission of salvation as one bestowed by the proxy of the Battle God himself?"
Kadim regretted his words and waved dismissively.
"...Think what you want."
As he stepped away again, a thumping against the chest sounded from behind, followed by a resolute shout. Something about apologizing to the Great Warrior, offering glory, but sobs and wails mangled it beyond comprehension.
Whatever the case, the planned judgment was nearing its end.
The 'Hall of Fallen Glory that Mocks Struggle' had collapsed into utter ruins, without even foundations left. The 'Wilderness Shaman' had self-destructed, repenting late and returning to dust. 'Agon's Furious Horn' was dead. Only a mere nobody remained.
Now, just one target left.
Dragging the blood-red blade along the ground, he advanced. Blood Ghost drank the blood pooling from the corpses, healing its master's wounds. Crossing the hill of debris and exiting the arena, a short figure rushed toward him.
Duncan, whom he'd sent ahead. But Duncan halted abruptly midway.
"M-Master, a-are you alright...? There was that massive sandstorm earlier; is your body okay—no, your chronic illness...?"
"Yeah, I'm fine now, so don't worry. Now, let's head to that tycoon's mansion."
"Pardon? Why there all of a sudden...?"
"Didn't I defeat the champion? Time to collect the promised reward."
Unsure whether to rejoice or be baffled, Duncan blinked in bewilderment.
A shard of the one-horned helmet clunked down beside empty liquor bottles.
He couldn't make sense of it. What was he supposed to do with this? Arena King Yubik Agrámendus trembled his plump jowls as he stared at the giant.
"What... is this?"
"A piece of the horned helmet Agon's Furious Horn wore. I also brought the axe he stole."
"No, that's not what I'm asking... What the hell is the point of shoving this in my face?"
"Proof I defeated the champion and won. I upheld my promise to play the clown to the end. Now it's your turn to hand over the gold you promised."
Yubik was in a very rational state. After fleeing the arena's collapse, he'd calmed his nerves by downing three bottles of strong liquor in a row.
But those words shattered his sturdy drunken dam. His face flushed like an overheated furnace, and his fat mouth spewed flames of fury.
"You fucking insane, retarded, crazy bastard—worse than a cracked ogre skull, you deranged savage shit!! Fuck, is that what you say in this situation?! If you have eyes, you saw it too!! The arena collapsed! Yeah?? My arena collapsed, you rootless mongrel fuck!!!"
"..."
"You ignore every word I say, pull shady tricks at every turn, and now what? You want gold?? For beating the champion?? Fuck, did you kill Goltaran or loot it off a brick-headed corpse—how the hell should I know!!! Damn it, I still don't know why the arena collapsed and my head's splitting, but what the fuck is in these savages' thick skulls—just pure dirt?!"
Kadim didn't rise to the tycoon's rage. He calmly endured the barrage of rag-like curses, then gestured for Duncan to fetch the prepared item.
Seeing that, a deep furrow like a knife scar creased Yubik's brow.
"What the fuck?? What's that...?"
"A platter."
"No, I'm not asking because I don't know..."
"You said if you broke the promise, I could bring a platter and carve off your flesh. So I'll take just enough to fill it."
"...What!?"
As Kadim stood with knife in hand, Yubik's rationality, which had been out, hurriedly declared its return.
But that didn't mean surrender. He'd prepared a trump card for such contingencies long ago.
"F-Fuck, outside! Outside!! What are you doing?! Get in here and chase this bastard out...!"
"The mercenaries outside are already down. Their gear was good—more troublesome than last time."
Yubik's eyes bulged in shock.
Not just good gear—Yubik had armed them with priceless relics like northern relic soldiers. And he'd taken them out that easily?
The tycoon's face turned bluer than lapis lazuli. But one last hope remained. With the ring expensively procured from the Magic Tower, he could deploy a shield no savage could touch...
Tzzzzzt!
The translucent barrier tore like an eggshell membrane.
"...Huh?"
Before he could recover, the blade flew in and stabbed his flabby belly.
Squelch! Slice, slice...
"Wha-wha, urgh..."
An unreal haze, a bizarre suction.
Yellowish chunks oozed from the ripped clothes, blood streamed out and was slurped into the red blade. The scene of slaughter was familiar, but as the victim for the first time, the Arena King felt no sense of reality.
That's my flesh? No, that? That red stuff is my blood?
Scrape—
Rough cuts later, a chunk of meat plopped off. Only then did the hellish reality sink into the tycoon.
"Aaaah, kyaAAAAHHH!!! KYAAAAAHHH!!!"
The fallen chunk was far too small to fill the platter. Yet Kadim glanced at it and tossed it aside without adding it.
"Tch, nothing but pure fat. I'll have to stab deeper for actual meat."
"KYAAAAHHH!!! N-No!! Nooooo!! I'll give it, I'll give it! Gold, I'll give you gold... Please, not that, not thaaat, kyaaahhh..."
In Yubik's eyes, Kadim now appeared as living death—something even more horrific. No human could stand against him. Gasping to steady his breath, he gulped liquor to numb the pain, stuffed ointment into his mangled gut, and waddled unsteadily to the underground vault.
Passing layered iron bars and security doors. Through maze-like passages to the innermost chamber. Even the ever-indifferent savage raised an eyebrow at the sight, while the merchant's eyes nearly popped out.
"My god, my god, my god, Remillion preserve us... Oh god, oh god, oh god..."
"..."
Gold coins, silver coins, gold bars, silver bars, diamonds, sapphires, rubies, emeralds...
Treasures glittering like stars in every color. Conservatively, wealth worth hundreds of millions of luden piled high. The crystallized fortune from the arena's blood money.
Exhausted from the trip, Yubik collapsed to the floor. His face already ashen as a corpse, he still clung to venomous spite and snarled.
"Urgh, obviously... not taking it all... You haven't forgotten I swore on Atala's name to keep my promise, right?"
"Of course."
The savage's ready agreement. Unable to quell his anxiety, Yubik reconfirmed.
"Like I said before... Just fill that little bag to the brim—exactly that much gold... If even one coin overflows, I'll put every last bit of my wealth as a bounty... on your necks..."
"O-Of course, sir. Why would we...?"
Duncan nodded with a twitching smile.
Then he began scooping gold into the 'Inventory,' packing it full.