WeTried Translations

Translator: Joy

Editor: Joy

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

◈ Damned Transmigration

Chapter 16

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The 3 Billion Sel Man (2)

Orca Dersia was a VIP at Le Seyun.

Thanks to her ticket, Elena’s party were granted the same status. Each of them wore a gold insignia pinned to their chest, marking them as VIPs, and were personally escorted inside by a senior manager.

‘Damn, this is a bit much.’

That was how Yuri felt, but Elena walked as if she belonged here.

“Have you been here before?” he asked.

“Mmm.” she nodded, eyes fixed on the catalogue the manager had handed her.

“I wanted to consult Otian’s magic book, but I couldn’t even get a copy, let alone the original.”

She brushed her blonde hair aside with an elegant flick, then glanced at him.

“So I asked the Tower Master, and she said I could find it here. That’s why I came to check.”

‘Who the hell is Otian?’

The question lingered on the tip of his tongue, but he let it go. Instead, Yuri pointed at the catalogue she was absorbed in.

“What’s caught your attention?”

“This is just the magic book list. Nothing worthwhile. These aren’t even high enough quality to make it to the main auction.”

Elena shut the catalogue with a snap and turned to the manager as though she knew the place well.

“Anything decent coming up?”

“Not a book, but there is the formula for Lady Harabel Ushia’s Scorching Blaze magic,” the manager said with a polite smile.

“H-Harabel Ushia? The Crimson Wing?” Elena’s composure faltered for the first time.

“Yes. And no need to worry, the seller is Lady Harabel Ushia herself.”

Yuri frowned. He had never seen the name in the game. She must be a mage who had risen to fame sometime in the last thirty years.

“I believe Scorching Blaze will be the most expensive item in this public auction,” the manager added.

Public. That word was the catch. They only had borrowed insignia, so they couldn’t enter the private auction unless they were the actual VIPs.

Not that it mattered, since the private event, held every six months, dealt in items skirting the edge of legality, with bids starting from a billion sel.

“Another magic that might interest you, Lady Elena,” the manager continued, “is Master Jang-un’s Seven Thunders.”

“The F-Seven Thunders?”

“Yes. It was the signature spell of the 5th-Circle lightning mage, Master Jang-un, who passed away three years ago. It cannot rival Lady Orca’s magic, but it would certainly be a worthy challenge for you, Lady Elena.”

“A-and the estimated bid?”

“Likely no less than six hundred million sel.”

Elena’s eyes wavered. The cool air of familiarity she had worn earlier collapsed in an instant.

“Out of curiosity,” Yuri cut in, “how much was Otian’s magic book?”

“…Three million sel.”

He had half-expected her to say three hundred million from the way she had been talking.

Yuri didn’t push, instead shifting his gaze to Haryeong. She was calmly scanning her own catalogue, unbothered by Elena’s bravado.

“Anything worth buying?” he asked.

“There are more decent martial arts manuals than I thought.”

At that, Elena, still shaken by the thought of the Seven Forms and its impossible price, turned her head.

“Wouldn’t it be better to just get one at auction?”

“You never know. Something truly valuable could be hiding in the catalogue,” Haryeong replied.

“As if,” Elena scoffed, shaking her head. But for some reason, Yuri found Haryeong’s words believable.

“Let me see,” he said, reaching out.

“What could you tell just by looking?” Haryeong shot back.

“It’s martial arts I’ll be learning, isn’t it? Even if I don’t know anything, I should at least look.”

“I’ll tell you now, most martial arts don’t live up to their names.”

She clicked her tongue but handed him the catalogue.

“Like this one: the Style of the Raging Asura. Sounds like something from the Demonic Cult, but it’s only a million sel.”

“Even if it’s cheap, if you train hard enough, maybe you really could ‘madly slaughter’ Asuras with it one day,” Yuri said lightly.

“Keep talking like that and I’ll be the one madly slaughtering you.”

The way she said it, dead serious, made him think she might actually try.

Yuri cleared his throat and bent over the catalogue.

‘No chance.’

He’d clung to a sliver of hope that some of the martial arts he’d used in the game might show up in the catalogue, but of course, none of them had.

The manuals listed were all second-rate, or at best brushing the edge of first-rate, with prices ranging from a million sel for the cheapest to several tens of millions for the best.

‘I’d kill to get the Soul-Shattering Palm… or the Phantom Cloud Steps.’

They were his favourites, techniques he’d slotted into every build whenever he made a new character. But late-game skills like those weren’t going to pop up in a basic auction catalogue.

‘So… what? Am I supposed to create them myself?’

Most transmigrators were rumoured to have done exactly that. Once he reached a certain level of mastery, he’d probably be able to craft martial arts or magic of his own.

“So, did you find anything?”

“There are a few decent ones, actually.”

“That sounds familiar. Strange, isn’t it?”

They followed the manager down a corridor reserved for VIPs and stepped into the auction hall.

Just as he’d said, it was a public auction. The place felt more like an exhibition hall than an exclusive chamber. And even though the bidding hadn’t started yet, nearly fifty people were already inside.

“Are all of them VIPs?”

“I’d think so.”

“Why are there so many?”

“Do you have any idea how many people live in Rutlan? What a silly question. Besides, the monthly Le Seyun auction is well known even in other cities.”

Elena clicked her tongue, showing off her knowledge.

“And this public auction doubles as a social gathering. Wealthy VIPs use it to network and swap information about the lots.”

“You really know your stuff.”

“I told you, I’ve been here before.”

“For something that cost three million sel?”

She nudged him in the ribs with her elbow.

“So try not to act like you’ve just wandered in from the countryside. Got it?”

“Funny. Weren’t you the one foaming at the mouth when you heard six hundred million sel?”

“When did I ever foam at the mouth?”

She was getting serious again. If he pushed her any more, she’d start spitting sparks. Yuri quickly raised his hands in surrender.

“You didn’t foam at the mouth.”

At his sly grin, Elena glared back.

They sat in their assigned seats as a new set of catalogues was handed out to the VIPs, this time with the actual auction items listed.

“Hah…!”

Haryeong, who had been studying it closely, let out a gasp.

“The Fist of the Rending Cloud! This, this is the one. We have to buy it.”

“The Fist of the Rending Cloud!”

Yuri’s eyes widened.

“What are you so shocked for?” Haryeong asked.

“The name just sounds… impressive.”

A lie.

Yuri knew the Fist of the Rending Cloud inside and out. He’d used it for ages in the game, before eventually switching to refine his build. But he remembered exactly how good it was.

‘Oh, fuck.’

His heart thumped. The other techniques blurred in his mind; only the Fist of the Rending Cloud mattered now.

“Is it that good?” Elena asked.

“Good is an understatement,” Haryeong declared.

“Of all the martial arts today, nothing tops it.”

“We have to buy it, even if it costs the entire billion sel.”

“If we spend everything, how do we afford anything else?”

“We already have the Azure Heaven Pills. As for a heart technique, we can grab a decent second-rate one for now. We can upgrade once we have more money.”

It was rare to hear Haryeong speak with that much conviction.

Elena looked at Yuri. He didn’t say a word, but the excitement in his eyes said enough.

“…How much will it be?” Elena asked.

“Probably around the same as the Seven Thunders.”

Elena closed her eyes.

It wasn’t her money anyway. This was Yuri’s settlement money. She didn’t feel bad about spending it, and yet, the name ‘Seven Thunders’ shimmered stubbornly in her mind.

‘Still, if the estimate’s six hundred million, that leaves four hundred million. Maybe, just maybe, the Seven Forms will go for less. If that happens, then…’

“Alright.”

Elena composed herself and nodded.

“The Fist of the Rending Cloud has been sold for nine hundred and ninety million sel.”

Her mind went blank.

She’d been planning a bid of around six hundred million. So why was there only ten million left from the entire billion? Elena’s hands trembled.

“That… that…”

Her voice caught.

Across from them sat a middle-aged man with the face and bearing of a lifelong martial artist. If not for him, the fist technique would’ve gone for half the price. But every time Elena raised her bid, he had calmly topped it.

Bit by bit, always just above her.

“Sorry about that.”

Yuri, who’d stayed quiet since the bidding passed seven hundred million, finally spoke.

Elena jumped at his words, straightening up.

“Yuri, what do you have to be sorry for?”

“I just feel like I should be.”

“Not at all! There’s nothing to be sorry for! You don’t think I’m upset about the money, do you?”

“No. I think you’re upset you couldn’t get the Flashing Thunder thingy.”

Her eyebrow twitched.

“Yuri, you’re mistaken. First of all, it’s the Seven Thunders, not ‘thingy’.”

“Right.”

“And second, I’m not upset about that. Upset? Over the Seven Forms? Sure, it’s a good spell, but I’m a mage of the Dersia Mage Tower. I’m a prospective apprentice who might one day inherit the Tower Master’s magic.”

Her words came faster and faster, as if she wasn’t just convincing Yuri, but herself.

“My thoughts about the Seven Forms were more like… hmm, should I buy it for reference? Yes. For reference. That’s all. But to reference it, I’d need to learn it, and—”

“The more you talk, the sorrier I feel.”

“Yuri! I told you, don’t misunderstand! You’ve got nothing to apologise for! Why are you even sorry? Did you beg me to buy the Fist of the Rending Cloud? Did you? This was my idea!”

“Um, Elena. The auction’s still going. If you keep shouting, people really will think you’re from the countryside.”

Elena froze. Her shoulders shook as she glanced around.

Sure enough, several VIPs were sneaking curious looks her way.

“…Let’s go.”

Yuri stood and gently took her by the wrist.

“We’re broke anyway. We got what we came for, so there’s no reason to hang around, is there?”

“Well, no, but…”

“You’re not seriously thinking you can win that Flashing Thunder-whatever with ten million sel, are you?”

“It’s the Seven Thunders…”

Elena, about to retort, suddenly realised Yuri was still holding her wrist. Her eyes flicked down to his hand, then back up to his face, widening slightly.

“…not whatever.”

She stammered as she stood, tugging her arm free.

Yuri gave a polite nod to the other VIPs who were still watching, then started toward the exit. Haryeong trailed after him in silence, her expression as flat as ever, though one cheek twitched, betraying the effort it took to keep it that way.

“By the way, Haryeong.”

“Yes? Yes.”

It was as if she had eyes in the back of her head. Her face smoothed instantly before she answered.

“Who was that guy?”

“Does Lady Elena think I am some kind of encyclopaedia?”

“You usually know. You rattled off the whole history of the Fist of the Rending Cloud.”

“Information gathering is a basic skill for a salsu.”

“So you don’t know who he is?”

“I do.”

Yuri blinked at her blunt answer. He looked at her again, curious.

“‘Fist Wolf’ Bakerd.”

The voice didn’t belong to Haryeong.

A massive figure stood in the middle of the corridor, blocking their way.

From a distance he had looked large. Up close, he was enormous. His shoulders nearly spanned half the hall, and his crossed forearms were thicker than Yuri’s thighs.

“That’s my name.”

His lips curled beneath a wild, bristling beard.

‘Bakerd… Bakerd…’

Yuri rifled through his old memories until the name clicked.

Right. Bakerd. An NPC from Sairan’s city guard, near Rutlan. Not especially strong, but notable for being the illegitimate son of the noble Raspion family.

Killing him in the game had given a chance to drop the Raspion Estate Key, which unlocked the family’s hidden field and their legendary Secret Sword Style.

Yuri himself had never bothered, but he’d heard plenty of rants from ‘FUCKINGSEXY’, a fellow player he used to share information with.

[FUCK! That bastard Bakerd didn’t drop the key again!]

[What, you’re resetting already?]

[Shut it! Why won’t he drop it?!]

[Why are you even killing an innocent illegitimate son?]

[FUCK! FUCK! This game is bullshit!]

And yet here Bakerd stood, no longer a grunt guard, but a giant bearing the title ‘Fist Wolf’.

“Sir Bakerd,” Haryeong said evenly, stepping forward.

“Do you have business with us? Standing there, it almost looks like you’re blocking the way.”

“A salsu from Salhomun.”

Bakerd’s eyes narrowed at her, then shifted.

“Marigold of the Dersia Mage Tower…”

His gaze passed over Elena and settled on Yuri.

“...and her servant.”

“Servant?”

Elena’s face darkened instantly.

First he had driven up the bid on the Fist of the Rending Cloud. Now he dared to call Yuri her servant? Sparks almost literally snapped in the air around her.

“Is he not?”

“How does he look like a servant to you?!”

“He’s no mage, no martial artist. What else would he be but that?”

“He’s not a servant. He’s a friend,” Yuri said, though in truth, his duties weren’t far off the mark.

Bakerd raised a bushy brow.

“Hm. Is that so. Then I was rude.”

“As long as you know,” Elena said coldly. “Now, move aside.”

“No. I cannot do that.”

Bakerd shook his head.

“Looking at your group, none of you seem the type to practise the Fist of the Rending Cloud.”

“And why not?” Elena shot back.

“Then you bid simply to oppose me?”

Yuri almost laughed. What kind of logic was that?

“I’d never even heard your name until today, Sir Bakerd,” Elena replied, incredulous.

The man’s face tightened, wounded pride clear, but he didn’t argue.

“If you don’t truly need it, then I’ll make an offer. More than you paid.”

“…What?”

“1.5 billion sel.”

The words came without hesitation.

“I cannot bring it immediately. But give me one week, and I’ll have it. A fairer deal you’ll never find.”

The number hit like a thunderclap. Elena and Haryeong both gaped.

“O-one-point-five billion…?”

Even Elena faltered.

If it had been her own purchase, she would have handed it over in an instant. But it wasn’t; it was for Yuri.

The decision wasn’t hers to make, so she turned towards him instead.

“With that much money, you could buy a martial art even greater than the Fist of the Rending Cloud,” Haryeong said cautiously, also looking his way.

All at once, the weight of choice landed on Yuri’s shoulders.

‘If she’d said yes straight away, I couldn’t have objected. But now…’

He exhaled slowly.

The sum was dizzying, but the Fist of the Rending Cloud was not something he wanted to surrender.

“Sir Yuri, this is your chance to become the 1.5 billion man,” Haryeong whispered.

“Oh, shut up.”

He glared at her, then looked back at Bakerd, who seemed baffled that Yuri was the one making the call.

“Ahem.”

Yuri cleared his throat.

For a moment, the image of Orca Dersia flashed in his mind, the way she could twist negotiations in her favour with nothing but a few well-placed words.

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