WeTried Translations

Translator: Joy

Editor: Joy

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

◈ Damned Transmigration

Chapter 75

──────

Wealth

Silence hung over the three masters.

The sparring match below was long over, a contest between distant juniors, yet the Sword Emperor, the Fist King and the Wind Calamity offered no evaluation.

They could not.

Even to Jeydolph, the Wind Calamity, whose eye for martial arts was less than keen, the clash between Thunder Cloud and the Sword Dragon had transcended the simple rank of a 5th-Circle practitioner.

He kept his mouth shut. He’d already earned a glare cold enough to freeze spit for leaking word of this match to Dersia.

He knew Thunder Cloud had dominated the fight, just as the Sword Dragon himself had admitted. One more needless comment and he’d feel the Sword Emperor’s gaze on him again.

The Sword Emperor, for his part, had no interest in chastising the mage. He had known his grandson would lose seconds after the first exchange. He had felt it in his bones even before the match began.

The shock was not the defeat, but the sheer scale of Yuri’s skill.

Estor had held a wooden sword since he was five years old, learning its weight and balance before he could even properly channel his internal energy.

The boy’s talent was genuine, a rare gift for the blade, and against Thunder Cloud, that gift had counted for nothing.

‘What did he lack?’

The Sword Emperor dissected the fight in his mind.

Estor was not arrogant, he was diligent, he had sparring partners aplenty, he’d seen real combat.

‘Ah. I see it now.’

It was their environments.

Estor’s real combat was a sanitised version, a fight where he was always cocooned by the protection of other knights. He had never once stood on the precipice, with the abyss below and no safety net to catch him.

Yuri fought on a razor’s edge. He faced a Glimmerblade, a weapon that could shear flesh from bone with a careless touch, yet there was no hesitation. He thrust hands and feet into the blur of the surging steel, intercepting its path with an unnerving precision.

This was not courage.

He danced on a precarious line, the point where the blade seemed certain to cut but did not.

‘A sense forged on the threshold of death.’

His grandson, for all his talent, had never cultivated that instinct. It could not be taught.

‘And that technique he used,’ the Emperor mused, ‘was similar to the Fist King’s.’

Yuri had never been formally taught by Dokgo Gwi-jin. His martial art was not the Fist King’s, but its core principle was the same.

The Sword Emperor’s gaze slid to his old friend.

The Fist King’s face was stone.

“The absolute nerve of the lad,” he murmured, a slow smile cracking his granite features.

He remembered Yuri’s words.

‘You said you would teach me a move.‘

But to see it mastered, adapted, and deployed so flawlessly, so soon?

“I was going to save him for Fist Wolf, given their connection,” the Fist King said, his voice a low rumble.

“But this makes a man greedy.”

“Who wouldn’t be?” the Sword Emperor replied, smiling back.

“A 5th-Circle at twenty two. And his foundations are rock solid. He’s destined for the Pinnacle, and he has no affiliation. None at all.”

He sighed.

“If I had a daughter, I’d have made him my son in law.”

“You’re not even married yourself, what are you talking about?” the Fist King scoffed.

“Besides, he turned down the captaincy of your precious knight order.”

“Even I wouldn’t join your order, hyungnim. It’s still just a knight order, no matter how grand.”

“Gah…”

“Is there no way to take him as a disciple?” the Fist King wondered aloud.

“I can smooth things over with Fist Wolf later. Should I just grab him?”

“Don’t be an idiot. What good is a disciple who doesn’t want a master?”

“I’m not after respect,” the Fist King declared, utterly shameless.

“I’ll just throw my techniques at him. He’s smart enough to learn on his own. All he has to do is go around telling people his master is the Fist King, Dokgo Gwi-jin.”

The Sword Emperor stared, then shook his head, a slow, weary motion.

“Stop talking nonsense and think of a title.”

“A title, a title…”

“Jeydolph?”

The Wind Calamity, startled at being addressed, straightened up.

“Thunder Dragon… perhaps?”

“Thunder Dragon?” the Fist King grunted.

“His current title is Thunder Cloud. Simply adding Dragon is… lazy, isn’t it? Lacks sincerity.”

Jeydolph’s face fell.

‘Then why did you ask me?’

He could not voice the complaint, so he manufactured an abashed smile and fell silent.

‘Are they seriously workshopping my new nickname right in front of me?’

Yuri stared blankly at the sky, feeling an excruciating wave of second hand embarrassment.

He understood that a title here was a great honour for the rising generation, but as an outsider to this world, the sentiment was lost on him.

‘A title…’

It was more than a nickname, like a handle, a substitute for a name used out of respect or when familiarity was lacking.

That meant when Estor called him by his name, Yuri, it was a recognition of something like friendship, of an equal standing.

‘A friend?’

He, an orphan who used to lie awake in a cramped room in Oldor worrying about his next meal, was now on a first name basis with the heir to the Orsia Family. He had come a long way.

“Have you thought about what you’ll request?” Estor asked, breaking his reverie.

He stood nearby, arms crossed.

“If I ask for an Elixir, will you give it to me?”

“I’ll have to,” Estor said, without a flicker of hesitation.

The Sword Emperor’s eyes flashed, but Estor ignored him.

“Everything the Orsia Family owns will be mine one day anyway. As I recall, we have a few bottles of Elixir left in the treasury.”

“It may be yours later, boy, but it is not yours now!” the Sword Emperor roared.

Estor did not even pretend to hear.

“But the ones in the family vault are all the old model. They’re not like the new model from Alfreon Ascard that you took. Still the best artificial elixirs money can buy, of course, but not a patch on the new stuff.”

“Is that so?”

“If you want an Elixir from me, ask later. The Ascard Family will send a gift in a few years. It might be an improved version. Better to get that than the old model now.”

Estor gave a short laugh.

“Frankly, I wouldn’t recommend taking another one at all. Your internal energy will spike and you’ll live longer, but it’ll never have the same effect as the first time.”

“I was just asking,” Yuri said.

“I’ll save the request for later. There’s nothing I need right now.”

“How about a gift for me?”

Haryeong drifted closer, her face as placid as a frozen lake.

She had been watching from a distance.

“I seem to recall giving you a rather fine dagger two years ago, Mr. Yuri. A gesture for which I have yet to be repaid.”

“Wasn’t that payment for my help, Ms. Haryeong?”

“You have an excellent memory,” she murmured, her tone utterly flat.

“Still, I did a number of things for you when you were a nobody. I think one gift is not an unreasonable expectation.”

“Just tell me what you want.”

“My hair is tidy, so I have no need for a hairpin. A dagger, like the one I gave you, would make me very happy.”

‘Why specifically mention a hairpin?’ Yuri’s brow furrowed.

He glanced at Haryeong, but her expression was a perfect mask.

Of course it was. She was doing it on purpose.

“You have a nasty streak.”

“My personality is flawless.”

“You say you don’t need a hairpin, but you always wear the same one.”

From the first day he met her, she had worn a butterfly shaped pin, its craftsmanship exquisite but its surface worn with age.

“It was a memento from my mother.”

“I’m sorry…”

‘Right. Abort. Abort.’

He had been about to poke at the contradiction in her words, but that reply shut him down completely.

On Earth, he’d keyboard warriored his way through a thousand strangers’ dead parents in online flame wars, but even at his worst, he’d known the difference between the internet and reality.

“What good are words? Show your sincerity.”

“Hmm, a dagger,” Estor muttered, oblivious.

“The Orsia treasury has several…”

Yuri shot him a look that said to shut up. Burning his one precious request on a dagger would give him an ulcer.

“I’ll choose one and give it to you later,” he told Haryeong.

“Yes?”

His agreement seemed to genuinely catch her off guard. Her pupils were a fraction wider than usual.

“You really mean it?”

“You asked for it.”

“I did. I just didn’t think the mannerless Mr. Yuri would agree so readily.”

“I’m not that bad…”

“When will you give it to me?”

The surprise vanished, her eyes returning to their usual impassive state.

“The sooner the better.”

“It’s not like you’re short of them. You have plenty of daggers.”

“Since you have never thrown one, Mr. Yuri, you may not appreciate that the more daggers one has, the better.”

Her logic was bizarrely persuasive.

“Ah, but do not worry. I will not use the one you gift me for throwing.”

“Right… thank you…”

‘The sooner the better.’

That meant some common knife from a weapon shop wouldn’t cut it.

He did owe her. She had taught him much before he began his formal training, and gave him advice after Fist Wolf left Rutlan.

‘And Black Fang was useful.’

The dagger he’d used to kill the Withered Crone was still in his possession.

‘I managed to apply the Fist King’s technique, but I’m a long way from mastering it.’

Thirty years had passed since the game’s timeline, and reality was different. He didn’t even know if the Fist King’s current art was the Ten Thousand Waves Severing Fist, but its application was a world away from a key-press.

As Yuri understood it, the Fist of the Rending Cloud was pure evasion. In game terms, it made the opponent’s attack miss.

The Fist King’s technique was a cancel. It struck during the enemy’s casting animation and forcibly interrupted the skill. Both required the talent to read an opponent’s moves before they happened.

He could read attacks to a degree, but his success against the Sword Dragon was down to his own speed, a product of the Art of the Violet Lightning Flash. It allowed him to dictate the pace and limit Estor’s options.

‘Against a faster opponent, interrupting their flow would be almost impossible.’

The Fist of the Rending Cloud could shore up that weakness. If he could just react, deflect, and cancel what he could, he might earn Sword Dragon’s backhanded compliment of fighting like a dog.

He couldn’t apply debuffs like a game character, and the skills worked differently here, but the core concept was the same.

The evasion from Rending Cloud and Whirlwind Cloud Steps, the cancel from the Fist King’s style.

If he later mastered Eternal Thirst, he’d have life steal. He had a speed buff from the Violet Lightning Flash, raw damage from the Heavenly Art of Annihilating Evil, and Sacred Flame Release as a finishing move.

‘If I can put it all together, this build could be even better than my game character.’

In theory, anyway. This was not a keyboard and mouse. He had to make the calls himself, in the blood and the mud.

“Cloud Dragon.”

The Sword Emperor’s voice cut through his thoughts.

“How does Cloud Dragon sound?”

‘He said Thunder Dragon was lazy,’ Yuri thought, ‘but this is just swapping one word for another.’

The Fist King, who had made the original complaint, was nodding in satisfaction. The chided Wind Calamity was forcing a smile.

“A dragon in the clouds,” the Sword Emperor explained.

“Or a dragon riding the clouds to the heavens. You have kept a low profile until now. A title for one who has suddenly soared into prominence seems fitting, no?”

This was not an atmosphere that invited refusal, and truthfully, he didn’t hate it.

‘Cloud Dragon…’

His face felt warm and his fingertips tingled.

A breath ghosted past his ear.

“If you like it, you can say so.”

Yuri flinched, his shoulders hunching.

Haryeong stood beside him, a subtle, knowing curve to her lips.

[Why are you whispering? Just use this,] he sent, irritated.

[I wanted to see you jump. In any case, if you like the title, say you like it. Don’t be so self conscious.]

[I don’t really like it.]

[Liar. Your seniors are personally granting you a title. As far as I know, you’re the first junior in history to be named by the Sword Emperor himself.]

[What about Estor?]

[The Sword Emperor cherishes his grandson, but even he is not so shameless as to personally name him Sword Dragon.]

He was ambivalent, but she was right.

The Sword Emperor, the Fist King, and a Tower Master of Selvis had just named him. Standing there like a statue would erase all the goodwill he had built. It would make him look like an ill mannered brat.

“It is an honour,” Yuri said, the textbook answer.

He arranged his face into an expression of pride and gratitude. It felt less forced than he expected.

“So, Cloud Dragon Yuri,” Estor said, nodding with a satisfaction that was entirely unearned.

“When do you leave?”

“I was thinking tomorrow. I don’t wish to impose.”

“I’m coming with you,” Estor stated immediately.

“Ooh,” the Sword Emperor breathed before Yuri could form a protest.

“Estor, of all the things you have said today, that pleases me the most. It seems the match with Cloud Dragon taught you a great deal.”

“Yes.”

The old man had no intention of stopping him.

“It could be dangerous if you leave with us…” Yuri tried.

“Danger is what I seek.”

“The boy needs it,” the Sword Emperor agreed.

“He can’t stay locked up in Panteleon forever. I worried when he went to the Foul Village alone, but with Cloud Dragon and Dark Blossom, he should be fine.”

“We’re planning to visit the Black Dragon Society’s Salhomun…”

“As long as it’s not the Demonic Cult or the Heretics, I don’t care.”

“I have no ties to Salhomun,” the Fist King put in, “but I’m close with the Severing Blade Sect. I still exchange new year gifts with their leader, Paeng Hu of the Blood Heaven Saber.”

“That Paeng Hu is a decent sort, for a man of The Underworld,” the Sword Emperor noted.

“I wonder if he’s reached the 7th-Circle yet?”

“He told me last year he had one last wall to break through. He might just manage it this year.”

As the two masters chatted, Haryeong sent Yuri a message.

[What does it matter? I don’t mind travelling with him.]

[But…]

[You are a transmigrator, Mr. Yuri. You already have to watch what you say. Travelling with the Sword Dragon will make others less suspicious of you. It lends you legitimacy.]

Yuri considered it.

She had a point. Fame brought scrutiny. Travelling with the heir to the Orsia Family would squash a lot of inconvenient questions before they were even asked.

He looked at Estor.

The strategic advantage outweighed the annoyance.

“You pay for the travel expenses,” Yuri said.

Estor grinned.

“I have a lot of money, bro.”

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried