Chapter 98
Chapter 98
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 98
Chapter Title: Judgment of Atala (1)
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Inside Agon's arena.
Sunlight poured down onto the dirt floor soaked with blood and sweat. Within the circular barrier wall, two bare-chested men gripped their swords and shields, facing off against each other. Sweat beaded over their eyebrows and trickled down, but neither blinked as they stared intently at one another.
Today, one of these two men would not live to see the setting sun.
"Waaaaaaah!"
"Waaaaaaah!!"
"Kill him!! Rush in and kill him already, you cowards!!"
"Stop chickening out, you wimps!! At this rate, it'll be dawn before we see any action!!"
The jeers and cheers echoed raucously.
It was a match between nameless gladiators. The crowd wasn't all that large. Yet the spectators, howling in unison like bloodthirsty demons, exuded a ruthless, tenacious ferocity that turned the stomach.
"Uwaaaaaah!!"
In the end, as if shoved from behind, the man on the left charged forward wildly with his sword raised. The crowd, buzzing with anticipation, clenched their fists and roared even louder.
"“Waaaaaaah!!”"
But their expectations went unmet.
Puk—!
The man on the right instinctively stepped forward and thrust his blade through his opponent's throat. Blood gushed out in spurts, as if the carotid artery had been severed.
"Gurk."
Clutching his neck, the fallen man lost his senses. He thrashed about gasping for air, then frantically shoved a handful of dirt into the wound to stem the bleeding. But it was futile; his breath gave out quickly, and he slumped lifelessly to the ground.
An utterly anticlimactic end.
The spectators, who had hoped for a brutal slugfest, showered the arena with boos.
"Boooo!!"
"Boooooo!!"
"Is that what you call a fight?! Even neighborhood kids scrapping would have more thrill!"
"Refund my ticket money, you sonsofbitches!!"
The dead man couldn't speak, so all the insults fell squarely on the survivor.
Flustered and humiliated, the man fidgeted anxiously before starting to hack wildly at his dead opponent's corpse to appease the crowd's fury. Only after limbs flew and the back was shredded to rags did the boos gradually subside.
It was a scene straight out of fanatic human sacrifice.
Away from the rowdy general seats, in the shaded VIP box with a prime view, Adonis turned to the hulking figure seated to his right.
"What do you think, mercenary? Even against trash like that, he walks away with 5,000 luden in prize money. Against stronger opponents, it skyrockets, of course. With your skills, it's practically free money."
"……."
"Ah, of course, you've already received your retainer from our council, so money's no issue... but more is always better, right? Hahaha……."
Despite the commotion he'd caused the day before, Kadim had suffered no repercussions. The Arena King hadn't wanted any. Instead, he'd been granted absolute safety, the best seats, and even a healer to watch the matches with.
Unsurprisingly, this was a ploy to lure him into becoming a gladiator. Show him how easy the money was and make a subtle pitch, as instructed.
He'd worked his tongue hard to drag him here. Adonis kept glancing at Kadim, gauging his reaction.
But Kadim remained silent, and the response came from an unexpected source.
"Ugh…… um…… Healer sir…… Does it have to be that brutal? No need to desecrate the corpse like that……."
"……."
Adonis ignored the tagalong porter and kept eyeing Kadim. But no reaction or reply came. In the end, he half-resigned himself to just watching the matches.
Similar bouts continued one after another. But it wasn't all man versus man. There were man versus monster and monster versus monster too. The crowd cheered when a play-gladiator's arm was bitten off, and jeered when a terrified fighter clung to the iron gate begging to be let out.
Watching this bloody farce strewn with gore, Kadim felt...
Something profoundly unpleasant.
Because the matches were too cruel and barbaric? No. He'd carved through far more horrific slaughterfields. Because the spectators' antics disgusted him? No. Not just them—the flailing gladiators, the barrier wall safely shielding the stands, the bloodstained dirt, the owners fattening their purses on ticket sales, everything tied to this arena contributed to that feeling.
Something like a fundamental, inescapable sense of duty gnawing at him…….
Wuuung—
In that instant, a flash of light.
Kadim flinched, shoulders twitching as he turned his gaze.
He untied the stone token from his waist and gripped it. A beam of light shot from the fingernail-sized gem in its center, pointing downward.
A 'relic' lay beneath the arena.
Without a word, Kadim shot to his feet.
"……Hm? Mercenary? The matches aren't over yet……."
"Eh? W-where are you going, sir?"
Ignoring their puzzled questions, he left his seat. He crossed the corridors filled with disappointed spectators and sighing gamblers, then descended a spiral staircase clinging to the wall.
He'd figured a new relic would appear soon. He'd already decided what blood to inscribe after passing the trial: the blood of Pevylathus, a high demon capable of drawing out his first playthrough's power.
That blood, reserved for life-or-death crises only, was starting to decay bit by bit. It was still fine, but tattooing it beforehand would prevent it from rotting away.
But that wasn't his only goal. His instincts told him the relic's presence here was no coincidence.
He quickened his pace. Through underground passages reeking of stale sweat, no spectators in sight—only panting gladiators and slaves hustling gear. Kadim followed the increasingly vivid beam toward the center.
But before reaching his destination, blockers appeared.
"Hm……? Who's this? New face."
"Hey, how'd you get in here? You with the Indomitable Legion too?"
Gladiators armed with spears and swords. Kadim shook his head and furrowed his brow slightly.
"Here on quick business. I'll be gone once it's done, so step aside."
"What? Ha, hahaha…… No can do, friend. Only gladiators down here. What's this business anyway?"
"Wait…… Isn't that the mercenary who caused a scene in the training yard yesterday? The one who grabbed the boss and lifted him by the collar……."
"What……? That's the guy……."
The gladiators recoiled in shock, then gripped their weapons tensely. Kadim scowled distastefully but ultimately drew his blood ghost to face them. He didn't want friction, but his situation was urgent.
A tense standoff on the verge of erupting.
The situation was defused by the arriving healer.
"Huff, what…… the hell are you doing? Huff, huff, to the boss's esteemed guest?"
"……Pardon?"
"Who…… are you?"
"Huff, huff, Galen Council healer, Adonis. Sent by Yubik himself…… huff, to escort the guest. Didn't you hear the captain yesterday…… huff, order you not to be rude to him?"
Adonis flashed his council-embossed ring, and the gladiators' attitudes shifted. They lowered their weapons and calmly explained.
"But, healer…… This area's for gladiators awaiting their matches. To avoid influencing outcomes, the boss previously banned outsiders……."
"……."
Adonis caught his breath and glanced at Kadim—clearly dead set on entering. An idea flashed in his mind.
"Hoo…… Then make him not an outsider."
"Pardon? What do you……."
Adonis stepped back and whispered urgently to Kadim.
"Mercenary, could you grant me one favor? I'll make sure we get in."
"……."
"It's simple. Just consider fighting as a gladiator one more time, and meet Yubik once more to talk. He's no ordinary man—the real owner pulling the strings here! He even promised to help find Agon's Furious Horn……."
The earnest persuasion continued. Kadim's face remained reluctant. Meeting meant it wouldn't end with just talk, surely.
But knocking out gladiators willy-nilly wasn't ideal. Agon's Furious Horn was in hiding, untraceable. He needed that fat tycoon's help; more trouble here would make cooperation unlikely.
After a moment's deliberation,
Kadim finally clicked his tongue and nodded curtly.
Adonis inwardly cheered and approached the gladiators commandingly.
"This man will soon fight as a gladiator. He's no outsider now—let him pass. If you block him, I'll report every detail to the boss!"
"……."
The gladiators hesitated, then reluctantly stepped aside.
Kadim strode forward unhindered, following the beam.
A cramped room bathed in a faint golden glow.
Rusted iron fittings clutched the walls, overgrown with vines and leaves. The floor was thick with lush greenery, like the fur of beasts long dead waiting for masters who never returned. In this sealed space without even a breeze, the plants bore iridescent golden buds, standing absurdly like candles in lanterns.
The ritual circle etched on the flagstone was hidden by flowers and foliage. Yet its center remained uncovered by green. Instead, decayed thigh leather, slowly rotting over centuries, clung there.
The wilderness shaman, unmoved from her spot for hundreds of years, slowly lifted her hazy eyes.
"……Voices are calling."
Her frail voice, worn thin like a battered iron bell, echoed.
"Voices calling. Voices praising you…… Multitudes like clouds laud your feats, and the land freed from demonic taint sings your deeds."
"……."
"Impressive, Great Warrior. To slay a named high demon already…… Truly worth this old husk enduring endless ages. Surely you will surpass even the ancestral Great Warriors, becoming the greatest savior……!"
The shaman's gaze fell on a sunken pool in the corner. At its edge lay a black-bladed battle axe and horned helmet; within, shimmering golden liquid sloshed full.
A man soaked in that liquid. His body, scarred like patched rags, belonged to a giant. He shot the shaman a sidelong glare and scowled darkly.
"……How many times must I say it. That wasn't my doing, shaman. I never even saw the central demon's face."
"Humility is a virtue for all. But for a Great Warrior, conviction and resolve in one's path matter more. If not you, chosen by Atala, who could fell such a demon?"
"……."
Goltaran, widely known as Agon's Furious Horn, ground his teeth.
He was still conflicted. Could he really claim that madman slew the central demon?
He had suspicions, but no proof. All he'd seen was merciless city destruction. Admitting he let such a one live would invite condemnation, so he hadn't told anyone the full truth. Meanwhile, his subordinates spread false rumors, and now he was hailed as the hero who killed the central demon.
Praise for deeds not his own bred massive guilt and debt. Unable to clear it up, the turmoil only deepened daily.
Above all, tormenting Goltaran was a few words from the merchant guarding that madman.
'He's Atala's Great Warrior.'
'…….'
'Not a fake fighting for wealth and fame, but the true Great Warrior of Atala, battling with his life even unrecognized.'
He couldn't forget it. That expression, brimming with conviction like uttering eternal truth.
Those words and that resolve had impressed him so deeply he'd unconsciously invited him to Agon. He'd even yielded his last 'elixir.' His body had nearly crumbled to rags as a result; he was still recovering in the shaman's brew.
Goltaran stared at his reflection in the golden surface. Not a heroic ally-saver, but a haggard man bereft of conviction.
"Last shaman…… Am I a fake Great Warrior fighting for wealth and fame?"
The shaman's eyelids snapped up as she erupted indignantly.
"What nonsense! Who dares utter such blasphemy! Though you've dwelt in sordid arenas long, it was for your kin's safety, not personal glory! Think how many brethren you saved becoming the arena's hero!"
"……But you once said a Great Warrior's true calling is struggle, not relief. Even you didn't call me that at first……."
"That was…… my mind clouded by long confinement. Don't doubt yourself, Great Warrior……! Believe your will is Atala's, and tear apart all who deny you! Drench the wilderness of struggle in the blood of demons and foes! Soon, the world will praise Atala's glory, and the lost shamans' divine powers return……."
Mid-rant, her voice shredding, the shaman froze with mouth agape. Goltaran's eyes slowly turned her way.
"……What's wrong, shaman? Something happen?"
"……."
The shaman sensed an unfamiliar presence from outside.
Like a tree struck by lightning, wrapped in shock's flames, she stared at the ceiling long.
She hastily gathered her divine power, slashed the air to draw a ritual circle, and pressed her palm to it. A distant vibration echoed, as if something ricocheted away.
Thud—woong!
Followed by an eerie, sinking silence.
Perplexed by the sudden event, Goltaran shot her a confused look. But the shaman had no time for it. Finishing the spell, her shrunken body trembled as she muttered incoherently.
"No, nothing. It couldn't return, no way. Of course not……."
"……."
A ritual space crafted by the greatest wilderness shaman to await the returning Great Warrior.
Shaken, she never confessed, so Goltaran never realized a visitor had just been expelled.
Kadim followed the beam to a stone slab etched with ancient script.
Placing his hand on it tore away the scene like old wallpaper.
Kiririririring…….
But no sooner had he entered the relic than he was shoved back to where he'd started.
Thud—woong!
As if someone had rejected and ejected him.
He tried the slab again but couldn't enter. Kadim scowled, pausing a moment……
"……."
……then glared at it fiercely, as if realizing something.