WeTried Translations

Translator: Joy

Editor: Joy

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◈ Damned Transmigration

Chapter 50

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Panteleon

“I’ve heard a lot about you from Roichi,” the man said, his voice a low gravelly rumble.

A thick cigar, wider than a man’s thumb, glowed in the dim light of the room. Its owner, a battle-scarred man with a black patch covering his left eye, looked Yuri up and down with the practised eye of a merchant appraising livestock.

“Heard your work is clean,” he continued, the cigar bobbing with his words.

“That as long as the pay is right, you don’t back out, and you don’t come whining for more after the deal is done.”

Just as the Righteous Heavenly Alliance has its Five Great Families, the underworld’s Black Dragon Society is ruled by its Six Evils.

Among them is the Haomun, an organisation whose tendrils reach into every dark corner of the continent. While they are the largest of the Six Evils in sheer numbers, their martial strength is unremarkable, for their true business is not combat, but information.

They are the underworld’s nervous system, a hub for every secret, every rumour, every dirty request too foul for the sunlit world.

“Well,” the man grunted, “if Roichi sent you to me, I suppose your skills are guaranteed. Did he tell you who you’d be meeting?”

“Guzen, the One-Eyed Badger,” Yuri replied, his own face hidden in the deep shadows of a hood.

“I heard you’re a crafty old bastard. A bit greedy, not above ripping people off, but you get the job done.”

“You’ve got a foul mouth for a pup just starting out.”

“And you’ve got poor manners for an old man, talking down to me from the start.”

Guzen’s one good eyebrow twitched.

He took the cigar from his mouth, pinching it between two thick fingers as he glared at the hooded figure. Beneath the cowl, a pair of sharp, unblinking eyes shone back at him.

“You’re the one who needs something from me, boy. I’m not the one who’s desperate. There are a hundred men in this district who would kill for a private word with me.”

“Then you can go back to sifting through that rabble,” Yuri’s voice was flat, utterly unimpressed.

“Spend your days hoping to find a diamond among the no-name bottom feeders.”

“Hmm.”

The hard line of Guzen’s mouth softened into something resembling a smirk.

“Roichi said you were no pushover. Seems he was right.”

The cigar returned to his lips, and he blew a plume of smoke toward the ceiling.

“Yuri. Do you prefer I call you that? Or should I use the one Roichi gave you? Thunder Cloud?”

Yuri, still cloaked in shadow, waved away the smoke.

“Thunder Cloud is fine.”

“Mm, I think so too. Not that Yuri is a bad name, but it sounds… weak.”

Guzen chuckled and rested the smoldering cigar in an ashtray.

“Alright, let’s get down to business. No need to be tense. This is simple stuff. You know what kind of place this is, I assume?”

“I know.”

This was Panteleon, the sprawling metropolis ruled by the Orsia Family, the undisputed head of the Cartel. It was less a city and more a small nation unto itself.

“Panteleon,” Guzen repeated, a wide grin splitting his scarred face.

He opened a nearby window, and at that exact moment, a distant, piercing scream echoed up from the streets below.

Closing his eyes, he savoured it like a fine wine.

“You must have seen a lot on your way in. Once you leave the centre and get past District 3, screaming is just part of the background noise.”

It was true. The city was a world of stark contrasts. The central district, a shining jewel where the Orsia Family and the Selvis Mage Tower held court, was a different reality from the squalor of the outer rings.

From District 3 onwards, the city descended into a chaotic mire where screams were as common as the morning sun.

The Orsia Family, nobles among nobles, ruled with an aristocratic philosophy: to them, the true citizens of Panteleon were only those who resided in the central districts. The rest were simply… there.

The current state of the city wasn't entirely their fault.

Fifty years ago, the city was a modest, respectable place. Then, a Rift had opened in the nearby metropolis of Ranalsa. The tear in reality spewed forth monsters.

Sewer rats became ravenous beasts, buildings grew teeth, and worst of all, the Rift was saturated with a divine power that defied death itself. Anyone who died within its influence was reanimated as one of the living dead.

The world was still new to the phenomenon of Rifts, and Ranalsa was consumed overnight. Millions of refugees fled the dead city, washing up against the walls of Panteleon. That desperate refugee camp had become District 1.

‘In the game, it only went up to District 3,’ Yuri recalled.

Now, Panteleon sprawled out to a fifth district.

The Orsia Family had eventually given up trying to control the tide of humanity, effectively abandoning the outer districts to their lawless fate.

And still, people flocked here, clinging to the vain, foolish hope that they might one day earn a place in the shining city centre.

“I can’t imagine why you’d want to go to District 4 instead of the relatively sane District 3,” Guzen said with a dismissive smile, “but if you want to go, I’ll get you there.”

He leaned forward.

“But I can’t get you an entry pass for free.”

“I know.”

“Solve a few minor problems for me, and the pass is yours.”

“Are you sure you can get one?” Yuri asked, his tone laced with skepticism.

Guzen’s smile deepened.

“I am Guzen, the One-Eyed Badger. A Branch Master of the Haomun in this very district. I can get anything.”

He paused.

“Let’s say… five jobs?”

“Five?”

“Solve five of my little problems, and I’ll get you the pass. Clean and simple.”

“You’re a mad bastard.”

“A mad… what?”

“I’m not cleaning up your shit five times. Three is enough.”

“Haggling, are we? Haha! You take a Haomun Branch Master for a joke, Thunder Cloud. But I like your spirit. I’ll concede. Four.”

“Three.”

“Four!”

“Three.”

“Zero.”

The new voice, crisp and feminine, cut through the tense negotiation.

Guzen’s eyes widened. Yuri’s reaction was similar, a flicker of disbelief followed by a flinch as his hand instinctively went to his waist.

Guzen blinked, then glared at Yuri, a cold dread washing over him.

He was a 4th-Circle master. He could feel a presence by the window, a presence that had not been there a second ago. The fact that he’d only noticed it when they spoke meant they had been there the entire time, utterly concealed.

Only a high-level salsu, an assassin, could move with such stealth.

“Don’t tell me, Thunder Cloud, you bastard…” Guzen snarled, his hand inching towards the sword propped against his chair.

“Did you come here to kill me?”

“You’ve got the wrong idea.”

“The wrong idea? Then what is this? Call off your assassin right now, or the Haomun will…”

“No, I’m telling you, it’s a misunderstanding.”

“What part of this is a misunderstanding?”

Guzen’s voice rose to a panicked shout.

“You treacherous dog! Was that bastard Roichi in on this from the start?”

“It really is a misunderstanding, so calm down…”

“Then why do you look like that if it’s a misunderstanding!” Guzen roared, his fear finally boiling over into rage.

It was a fair question. Yuri looked anything but surprised.

With a bellow, Guzen snatched up his sword.

“I am the One-Eyed Badger! I won’t die so easily!”

He swung, a hasty but powerful slash aimed at Yuri’s neck, a faint shimmer of sword-ki coating the blade.

Yuri let out a deep, weary sigh as the internal energy in his dantian erupted into a cage of crackling lightning.

Crackle!

His fist shot out, a blur of motion that crushed the sword-ki and slammed into the flat of the blade.

Clang!

The sword shattered. The broken tip grazed Guzen’s cheek and embedded itself deep into the wall behind him.

“Huk…?!”

A jolt of lightning travelled up the hilt, numbing Guzen’s entire arm and forcing him to drop the weapon.

‘What… what was that?’

Roichi had told him Thunder Cloud was 4th Circle, a martial fighter who used lightning arts.

Guzen was 4th Circle as well, yet in a single clash, his sword-ki had been shattered like glass. The power was astounding.

Knock, knock.

A soft tapping sound came from the window.

“If you’re done, may I come in?” a woman’s voice asked politely.

Only then did Guzen finally turn to look.

A short-haired woman, her face obscured by a black mask, was peering in at them. He had no idea who she was.

“Come,” Yuri replied with a heavy sigh.

The woman vaulted over the windowsill with practised ease. She paid no mind to the stunned Guzen, instead giving Yuri a cheerful little wave.

“Yuri, your big sis is here.”

“…”

“It’s been a while! I’m so happy to see you. Or is it just me?”

“…”

“I was so excited I was humming on my way here, but you don’t look too happy. Are you sad to see me, my Yuri? Hey, that rhymed.”

“Are you actually insane?”

Guzen finally stammered, his face a mask of bewildered fury.

“You son of a bitch, you said it was a misunderstanding?”

“It is a misunderstanding, so stop swearing.”

“It doesn’t look like one! She said she’s your sister!”

“I suppose she probably is.”

“Then what’s the misunderstandi—”

Slap!

Yuri’s hand moved faster than he could see. The sharp, stinging slap sent Guzen’s head spinning.

“The most confused, bewildered, and complicated person in this room right now is me,” Yuri said, his voice dangerously low.

“So shut up for a bit.”

“You… you…”

Slap!

Another slap, just as fast.

As the sting blossomed across his other cheek, Guzen’s mind raced.

‘This bastard isn't 4th Circle. A lightning user is fast, but this is something else entirely…’

The sheer misery of the situation overwhelmed him. He clamped his mouth shut, his shoulders trembling with impotent rage.

Yuri ignored him, his full attention on Haryeong.

“What’s all this ‘big sis’ nonsense?”

“Calling you ‘oppa’ would be a bit much, don’t you think?”

“Let’s just stick to how we used to talk.”

“Two years must have been a long time for you,” Haryeong said, then clapped her hands together.

“I’d love to catch up, but I think we should move. As they say, the badgers hear the words of the day.”

With that, she spun and strode over to Guzen. She drew a dagger from her waist and held it before his terrorised face.

He recognised the crest engraved on the blade. The coiled snake and scorpion was the mark of the Dang Family, rulers of the Salhomun, the Murder Gate.

The Haomun and the Salhomun were both among the Six Evils, but they were not equals. Defying a direct heir of the Dang Family was suicide.

‘Take what happened today to your grave,’ Haryeong’s unspoken command hung in the air.

Guzen swallowed hard.

‘Zero.’

“…?”

‘I’ll be back tomorrow,’ her eyes seemed to say.

‘Have two entry passes ready.’

She turned away without waiting for a reply.

“Let’s go.”

She had entered through the window and left boldly through the door.

Still feeling confused, bewildered, and complicated, Yuri had no choice but to follow.

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