WeTried Translations

Translator: Joy

Editor: Joy

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◈ Damned Transmigration

Chapter 33

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Limits

Spring ripened into its full glory, and with it came the deadline for Elena’s quarterly report to the Dersia Mage Tower.

The obligations of a 4th-Circle mage were clear: one report per quarter, detailing a significant magical achievement. Lacking that, a high-grade request from the Adventurer's Guild would suffice.

But the standards were steeper still for a candidate to the Tower Master's disciple.

Of the year's four reports, at least two had to be purely magical in nature. One could not coast into Heavenly Thunder Orca’s tutelage on mercenary work alone.

For the year's second quarter, Elena submitted not some minor magical finding, but the first volume of a treatise she called the 'Heinderga Magic Formula (Provisional Title)'. Though the specific spell formulae were still theoretical, the foundational principles were revolutionary enough to earn her high praise from Orca.

“Just wait until the third quarter,” was her promise, delivered over a celebratory meal upon her return.

He didn’t need to ask what he was waiting for. The seasons gave their own answer.

The world changed. A single sun and a single moon presided over four distinct seasons, just as they had on Earth.

When the twenty-seven-year-old Lee Su-hyeok had become the twenty-year-old Yuri, it had been a cool spring with a lingering chill in the nights. Now, months after Bakerd’s departure, a sweltering, suffocating summer had descended upon Rutlan.

The heat was a familiar misery.

It dredged up phantom sensations of his life in Oldor: the ever-present stench from the pit latrine, the back-straining labour of drawing water from the well for every wash, the grime of the shared kitchen, the stifling oppression of a tiny room whose only relief from the heat was a single, dusty window.

Surviving a summer there, without so much as a fan, was a thought that bordered on horror.

Elena's mansion, by contrast, was a sanctuary. The direct sun in the training garden was unavoidable, but indoors, a cool, pleasant stillness reigned.

While Elena devoted herself to her third-quarter report, Yuri devoted himself to the forge of his own body.

The Heavenly Art of Annihilating Evil, the Fist of the Rending Cloud, and the Whirlwind Cloud Steps became his entire world. He didn't bother training the Art of the Untainted Heart separately; his understanding of it deepened naturally with his mastery of the Heavenly Art.

Both were merely methods of controlling internal energy, and focusing on the divine art was simply more efficient.

The dance of fist and footwork had become second nature. Performing the Fist of the Rending Cloud without the Whirlwind Cloud Steps now felt clumsy, like trying to walk with one leg.

Linking the four forms of the Fist into a single, seamless flow, the challenge Bakerd had left him with, had seen significant progress.

“Linking every form without a single break... Do you have any idea how monumental a feat that is, Yuri-nim?”

With Bakerd gone, there was no one to ask for guidance.

He had no intention of becoming Namgung Yuri, and seeking out the Moonlit Reveller was out of the question. That left Haryeong. But when he broached the subject with her, she had given him a long, measuring look.

“To achieve that,” she said, her voice flat, “you must grasp the ultimate essence of the forms, mastering them so completely they become subconscious instinct. You must be able to unleash the perfect form for any situation without a moment of conscious thought.”

“Hmm…”

“Executing the forms in sequence is simple. But linking them is another matter entirely. It is about bestowing a sense of unity upon them, making them flow like water, as if they were one from the very beginning.”

“Your words paint a picture, but I’m not sure I understand. Perhaps a demonstration?”

“Well, now.”

For the first time in a long while, a glint of playful light danced in Haryeong’s stoic eyes.

“Are you using this as an excuse to gauge my martial arts?”

“Come to think of it, I’ve never seen you fight, Haryeong-nim.”

“That is both a fortunate and an obvious truth. I am a salsu, and Lady Elena’s bodyguard. A salsu only reveals their art under two conditions: when a target must be eliminated, or when their charge’s life is in peril.”

“Right…”

“When on a mission, I am ruthless, merciless, and terrifying. As a bodyguard, I am diligent, loyal, and exemplary. Such a person does not perform for trivial reasons.”

“You’re playing hard to get.”

“I am an expensive woman, Yuri-nim,” she said, her face an emotionless mask.

“Not in coin. Even as the 3.5 Billion Man, you could not afford me. Because I am an expensive salsu.”

“Yes, yes…”

Her words weren't a joke; she meant every one. But just as he was about to drop it, she raised a single, slender finger.

“However.”

A pause.

“Though I may be a terrifying salsu, I am not currently on a mission. Which means… I possess a human heart. Our time together has not been long, but it has not been insignificant. Therefore, today, I will offer you a special discount.”

“A discount?”

“In exchange for a demonstration of your skills, I will offer a glimpse of my own. A tempting offer, is it not? A chance to witness the art of this terrifying and conscientious salsu.”

The bond was an excuse. In truth, Haryeong was intensely curious. His internal energy was still developing, yet his skill had been praised by one of the Revered.

She had never spied on his training; this was her chance for a direct assessment.

“A demonstration? What did you have in mind?”

“A spar would be simplest.”

“Sparring?”

“Why the surprise? Do not worry. I will approach this with my human heart, not as a salsu. No weapons. And I will barely use any internal energy.”

“What do you mean, barely?”

“Without any, one cannot properly execute the forms, can they?”

“Still seems dangerous…”

“Goodness.”

Her eyes widened fractionally. She stared at him, her lips a perfectly straight line.

“Are you, perhaps, worried for my safety?”

“No, I mean it seems dangerous for me.”

“A pity. Had you been worried for me, I might have taught you a proper lesson in audacity. Still commendable, even if foolish. But you were only thinking of your own skin.”

With that, Haryeong took several steps back.

“In any case, let us begin.”

“I never agreed to this.”

“We’ve come this far. It would be foolish to back out now.”

“You did all the talking.”

“Did you not wish to see my art? Did you not ask for guidance? A spar will answer all your questions.”

She had a point.

Yuri abandoned his hesitation, took a few steps back, and settled into the opening stance of the Fist of the Rending Cloud. Across from him, Haryeong’s shoulders remained loose, relaxed. She pressed the index and middle fingers of each hand together, extending them like twin blades.

“What’s that?”

“A substitute for daggers.”

“I’ll be using the Fist of the Rending Cloud.”

“It’s not as if you know anything else.”

“And you?” he probed.

“Which style will you be using?”

“Do not try to slyly coax information from me. I am no fool, to fall for such a blatant leading ques—”

He didn't let her finish. With a surge of Whirlwind Cloud Steps, he closed the distance in an instant, his fist a descending cloud.

“You cheat,” Haryeong muttered, not a hint of surprise on her face.

* * *

The result was a foregone conclusion: he lost. Utterly.

It wasn’t that he was taken down in a single blow. It was that his fists, honed by thousands of repetitions, never connected. It was a deeply bizarre experience.

He would lunge, certain of his target, only to find himself striking a ghost. His knuckles would graze empty air where she had been a microsecond before. It was like trying to punch smoke, or grasp a feather in a gale.

Her attacks, however, were brutally real. They were not blows, but stings, delivered with a swaying, unpredictable grace. Her fingers, held stiff and sharp, were the ‘daggers’ she’d spoken of.

In the course of the spar, Yuri had been ‘stabbed’ dozens of times. Had they been real blades, he would be a bleeding ruin on the garden soil.

In the end, he simply ran out of stamina, collapsing to the ground, gasping for air.

“What’s with that look on your face?” Yuri asked, looking up at the perfectly composed Haryeong.

“My expression is the same as always.”

“No, it’s not. You’re annoyed about something.”

Her brow was furrowed just a fraction more than usual, the corners of her lips pulled down in an almost imperceptible scowl.

“Are you a fortune-teller, Yuri-nim?”

“No.”

“Have you mastered the art of mind-reading?”

“No.”

“Then why do you pretend to know what you do not? Annoyed? I am a cold-blooded salsu. Emotions are a liability. I severed such useless feelings long ago.”

“And yet,” Yuri panted, “you seem to be getting more annoyed as you say that.”

“I told you, that is not the case.”

“Even your tone is different. Why would you be annoyed? I’m the one who got beaten half to death.”

“Would you like another beating?” she shot back, her eyes, for once, flashing with genuine anger.

“No.”

Yuri immediately fell silent. Haryeong glared at him for a moment longer before her composure returned.

“First,” she began, her voice crisp again, “regarding your linking of the forms. From what I observed, it was… passable. Not enough to graze the hem of my clothes, of course, but for your level of experience, it is a remarkable achievement.”

“Any advice? Areas for improvement?”

“I do not know the specifics of your art. The ambiguity you feel may be due to a lack of internal energy. Or, more likely, a lack of experience.”

“Experience?”

“The only opponents you have faced are myself and the Fist Wolf. That scuffle with the Namgung boy hardly counts.”

“True.”

“Training alone has its limits. To resolve ambiguity, you must accumulate a variety of experiences.”

Her head tilted, her eyes dark and unnerving, like a serpent observing its prey.

“Yuri-nim. What is your current Circle?”

“Pardon?”

“You must have some idea. You passed the 2nd Circle long ago.”

“Well… I’m using internal energy to supplement my movements, but I don’t believe I’m anywhere near the 3rd Circle,” Yuri lied smoothly.

He had meticulously controlled his output during the spar.

‘Gifted in martial arts, average in mana.’

He had no desire to change that perception.

“The 2nd Circle…”

In truth, he was already at the 3rd, but he couldn't boast of it.

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