WeTried Translations

Translator: Joy

Editor: Joy

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

◈ Damned Transmigration

Chapter 25

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The first pest

Lee Su-hyeok first crossed paths with Chuk-sin-doo back when Seronis was an unheard-of indie game.

It was obscure, ran on the cheapest hardware, and had no subscription fees or pay-to-win trash. That was all it took to hook Su-hyeok, whose hipster pride demanded he master a game no one else cared about.

Chuk-sin-doo and his friend, Cat Panties, had wandered in from a small Korean indie forum, drawn by whispers of a legendary "crap game”.

At the time, Su-hyeok cultivated the persona of a lone, jaded expert. He wasted no time on pleasantries. Every post had a purpose.

If someone praised a new skill, he would dismantle it, exposing every flaw. If a player flaunted their build, he’d highlight its weaknesses. If a guide was uploaded, he would test it personally, then return to write a page-long, merciless critique.

And when someone inevitably snapped, "Yeah? And how good are you, then?" he would unleash a barrage of essays with titles like:

[Physical Skill Tier List: An Objective Analysis]
[A Complete Monster Level Ranking]
[Why THOR123’s Lightning Tree Is Garbage]
[Build Physical, Not Magic (And Why You’re an Idiot If You Do)]

Inevitably, the flame wars would follow. Accusations of photoshopped stats, of Korean bias.

That was when Su-hyeok would abandon his carefully constructed English and reply with the only phrases the entire community understood:

[SHUT UP]
[FUCK YOU]
[YOUR MOTHER]

It was in those brutal skirmishes that the three Koreans, Su-hyeok, Chuk-sin-doo, and Cat Panties, found each other.

They were later joined by two more oddballs of unknown origin: FUCKINGSEXY and USAUSAMI₍ᐢ.ˬ.ᐢ₎.

Su-hyeok loathed being lumped in with the four pests, but grudgingly, he kept talking to them.

Years passed.

The community was bleeding out, until a die-hard veteran named REDCOW unearthed the game’s first hidden boss.

He failed to kill it, but he shared the method of entry, and the forums exploded back to life.

Every remaining player threw themselves at the “God of Chaos”. Word spread. Old players returned; new ones flooded in.

When a user named ZEROMAN finally claimed the first clear and unlocked the Hall of Honour, Su-hyeok and the four pests swore they would be next.

[What if we take the top five spots together? ㅇㅅㅇ]

That was Cat Panties, a notorious “netkama” from the Korean indie circles. No one knew if they were a he or a she, but they littered their posts with cutesy emoticons, as if trying to outdo USAUSAMI’s insufferable persona.

[I’ll take first place.]

That was FUCKINGSEXY, the same man who, even during the server-wide race, kept dutifully posting his daily wank journal, complete with illustrations of pretty boys.

He agreed to the pact instantly.

The rest, Su-hyeok included, were in. None of them would concede first place, so they hatched a ridiculous plan: clear the boss at the exact same time and share the top rank.

Life, however, had other plans.

[Our hyung is coming to Korea! LMAO]

Chuk-sin-doo was the first to betray them.

His football idol’s overseas team was flying in for an exhibition match against the Korean all-stars, and he had somehow snagged a premium ticket.

[Got the tickets! LMAOOOOOOOO]
[Let’s go see our hyung! LMAO]

He spammed the forum with football hype until it drowned out all talk of the boss.

A short while later, declaring he couldn’t stomach this “trash game” any longer, he went ahead and seized first place in the Hall of Honour for himself, all before the match even happened.

***

“May I accompany you?”

At Yuri’s cautious question, Orca paused mid-motion, her hand on the buttons of her vest.

She gave him a sidelong glance, then nodded.

“You must be curious. It’s not every day one gets to witness a master of that calibre. The Moonlit Reveller may be insane, but he is still one of the Four Perils.”

“There’s that… but I’m also worried about Sir Bakerd.”

“Ah. Of course. The Fist Wolf came to Rutlan specifically for this duel.”

A flicker of pride glinted in Orca’s eyes.

“You’ve been training under him for over a month. Do you see him as a mentor now?”

“A little, yes.”

“Then it’s only natural you’d worry. But remember this: the gap between the 6th and 7th Circles isn’t a step; it’s a cliff.”

She closed the spatial rift with a flick of her hand and strode towards the desk. The gramophone’s brass horn twisted to face her.

[Tower Master?]

Lacey’s voice drifted from the horn.

[Shall I come up now that your meeting is finished?]

“No need. I’m taking Yuri with me.”

[Pardon?]

“Tell Elena. The Moonlit Reveller has appeared at Rutlan’s eastern gate. I’ll be there with Yuri. Nothing dangerous will happen, but if she’s uneasy, she is welcome to come as well.”

[The Moonlit Reveller…? That lunatic transmigrator? But why are you taking Yuri…?]

“To watch.”

A sharp snap of Orca’s fingers.

Crackle.

Static swallowed the horn, cutting the connection.

Yuri hesitated.

“…Is the difference between Circles really that vast?”

“The higher you climb, the wider the gap becomes. For mages and martial artists alike. From the 6th Circle on, each step is a chasm.”

Rumble.

The tall windows groaned open on their own, curtains whipping in the sudden wind.

Orca tied back her long black hair, then glanced over her shoulder.

"No matter how skillfully the Fist Wolf fights, he cannot defeat a 7th-Circle entity. His only mercy is that the Reveller kills for sport, not out of malice. He will lose, but he will live."

Bakerd had spoken of duels often during their training.

He had built his name on them long before reaching the 6th Circle and had tasted defeat more than once. But never against someone so far above him.

Orca’s certainty only mirrored Bakerd’s own. He knew he would lose.

‘What matters is what you gain from defeat.’

Bakerd’s words echoed in Yuri’s mind. He felt his fists clench.

“Come here.”

Orca planted one boot on the wide windowsill and crooked a finger at him.

“Consider yourself fortunate.”

“…Don’t tell me—”

“Yes. You are about to experience the Thunder God’s Mirage, my signature magic. I’ve never shown it to anyone outside the Tower, and certainly not to a non-mage.”

“Couldn’t we just… walk?”

“You should be honoured. Now, get over here.”

Yuri swallowed.

He remembered the first time he’d seen it: Elena tucked under Orca’s arm like baggage as they descended in a flash of lightning.

‘Is she going to carry me like that?’

No. This time, Orca drew him close, one arm draped across his shoulders.

“Ready.”

Her quiet word was the signal.

Mana surged like a breaking storm, vast and crushing. Yuri forced himself to focus, desperate to glean even a fragment of its flow.

It was useless. His mind went blank. The sheer density of information in that torrent of power was beyond human comprehension.

‘This isn’t ordinary mana.’

Most mages shaped the world’s ambient energy into spells. But a true archmage wove something more into their craft, the very essence of their own life: Soul Power, forged over decades of mastery.

It was like a martial artist’s indomitable will made manifest. Deeper, older, and utterly inexhaustible.

Orca’s Soul Power resonated with the world, bending reality into her Thunder God’s Mirage.

Yuri understood with chilling clarity this was a power that could not be shortcutted, not even by a transmigrator.

Bzzzzzzzt!

His body ceased to be a body. Flesh and bone dissolved into pure Lightning Qi, leaving only his soul intact, merged with the energy. He was a bolt of lightning given will.

In that instant, Yuri and Orca fused, streaking across the sky as a single violet flash. The Mage Tower and the sprawl of Rutlan vanished in the blink of an eye.

[It’s a strange sensation, isn’t it?]

It wasn’t sound, but Orca’s will bleeding into his mind.

[Slower than true lightning, of course. Unavoidable. Even if the body becomes Lightning Qi, the soul can’t keep pace.]

Lightning travelled at one hundred thousand kilometres per second. It was no onder a human soul lagged behind.

[One wrong move and the soul shatters, or slips free of the body. Death, or something far worse.]

She chuckled in his mind.

She was holding them back, slowing to a crawl so he wouldn’t break apart. Alone, she would be faster. Far, far faster.

‘And yet she nearly died in a trap fifteen years ago…’

[We’ve arrived.]

Bzzzzzzzt!

The lightning dispersed. Vertigo crashed over him as his soul slammed back into flesh, his body reassembling from raw energy.

His knees buckled.

Now he understood why Orca had carried Elena like a bundle of luggage.

“How was it? Fun, wasn’t it?”

Orca’s voice held a laugh.

Yuri’s stomach churned, and it took him a moment before his vision steadied.

They stood atop the city wall.

Just beyond the parapet, Chuk-sin-doo loitered in mid-air, bouncing the Madorido against his foot, clang, clang, as if killing time on a street corner.

“Quite the flashy entrance, as always,” he called out.

He wore no exotic robes like Namgung Jin, just a plain white t-shirt, black jacket, and spiked hair; the spitting image of his football idol.

‘He shows up dressed like that and dares to call someone else flashy?’

Orca’s arrival had been dramatic, but compared to this absurd display, it seemed almost restrained.

He kept juggling the iron ball, his eyes fixed on her.

“Why have you stopped here?” Orca asked.

“The reception’s lacking.”

“What?”

“I could enter whenever I please. But walking in quietly would be dull.”

The Madorido stilled mid-air. Chuk-sin-doo caught it, tucked it under his arm, and grinned.

“See? The moment I appeared, even you came running. But it’s not enough. I want a bigger reception.”

“Surely you don’t expect Alfreon Ascard himself to come out?”

“Of course not. A man of his stature wouldn’t stir for this.”

His smile never faded.

“But you mentioned his name, so you already know why I’m here.”

“I never thought I’d see the day you became an errand boy for the Ascard family.”

“I’ll run errands for anyone, if the pay is an Elixir. Let’s call it business, not servitude.”

He laughed, then turned his gaze.

“So, who’s the kid?”

Those dark eyes bored into Yuri.

‘This is torture.’

First he’d heard about him, then seen him from afar, and now the man stood right in front of him. But the true torment was the desperate, burning need to not laugh.

He couldn’t react to the name. Not to ‘Chuk-sin-doo’. A smirk was as good as a confession.

The name might be Hangul, but he was currently speaking a language he’d never studied; the sound of a name which proved nothing here.

Besides, this lunatic had been infamous on the old Seronis forums.

Everyone knew him: the user who spammed football reaction images and narrated every match. And here he was, looking exactly like his idol, right down to the haircut.

Any transmigrator would burst out laughing. Many probably had over the years. And how many of their heads had been caved in by that beloved iron ball?

Yuri had no intention of letting his be next.

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