WeTried Translations

Translator: Joy

Editor: Joy

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

◈ Damned Transmigration

Chapter 58

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Furious guest

Estor Orsia.

Yuri knew the name.

Grandson of the Sword Emperor, the man who stood as the Heavenly Demon’s only rival among the Revered of the Martial Pinnacle. A prodigy who had reached the 5th-Circle at just twenty-one.

The Sword Dragon.

For a rising star to bear the title ‘Dragon’ was a mark of obscene talent. In the current generation, only three martial artists had earned it.

Of them all, the Sword Dragon was considered the undisputed best. A masterpiece forged by the continent’s premier martial family, they said, destined to one day eclipse the Sword Emperor himself.

The name was as blinding as his lineage. You couldn’t avoid the rumours even if you plugged your ears.

This, however, was the first time Yuri had laid eyes on him.

‘What the hell is this bastard doing here?’

There was no sense of awe. No thrill at seeing a celebrity in the flesh. Yuri had never cared where the Sword Dragon spent his free time.

Yuri’s own assessment of the Sword Emperor and his clan was mostly based on the game, even if he’d been warned until his ears bled not to mistake the game for reality.

If the hype was even half-true, Yuri had idly wondered how he might fare against such a celebrated genius.

But not today. Not like this.

Yuri’s plan for infiltrating the gathering might not have been a masterstroke of tactical brilliance, but this brute’s rampage was shattering his plan entirely.

“How dare you. How. Dare. You!”

His fury wasn’t hard to understand. This was, as he’d said, the outer district of Panteleon.

Never mind that the ruling Orsia Family and the Selvis Mage Tower considered this slum a festering sore on their city’s edge, refusing even to grant its residents citizenship.

To the Orsia, these people were squatters, borrowing Panteleon’s name while forging their own laws and refusing to pay a single sel in tax.

They could have crushed this place and the Sword Emperor wouldn’t even need to lift a finger; a detachment of family knights could have scoured the district clean.

That they let it exist was, in their minds, an act of supreme mercy.

And now, a heretical sect had crept into this mercifully neglected slum to hold a gathering. Of course the young master of the Orsia Family would erupt.

The problem was, he was alone. There was no Sword Emperor, no family knights. Just one rampaging man, his longsword bleeding a constant, golden sword aura so fierce, so sharp and overwhelming, it was hard to believe it belonged to a man of twenty-two.

“Orsia…!”

“Why is the Orsia Family here?”

The cultists scrambled back, unable to get close.

They were cowed by the pressure of his aura, but the name ‘Orsia’ was what truly broke their nerve. The quicker ones were already bolting for the exits.

“Do not run!” the Sword Dragon roared.

He leapt, blocking an escape route, his sword scything through the air.

Whoosh!

A fan of golden light erupted from the blade, a storm of slashes that rained down on the fleeing figures.

“Throw down your weapons and remove your masks! Kneel and curse your evil god! I will kill any who do not comply!”

He’d blocked one way out, but a rat’s nest like this always had more than one hole. The Sword Dragon glared at the escaping heretics, his voice a bellow.

“It’s useless to flee! I will return with my family’s knight order!”

‘That bastard,’ Yuri’s face twisted behind his mask.

The threat was proof he really was alone, which meant if he didn’t make it back, the knights weren’t coming.

“Drop your weapons! Remove your masks! Kneel and blaspheme your evil god! Only then will I listen!”

As his furious demands echoed through the chamber, the cultists’ desperate energy began to shift.

It was now a certainty: if he escaped, he would bring the knights.

The Foul Village only existed because Panteleon ignored it. An Orsia invasion would scour it from the earth. The common thugs would be slaughtered first, and in the ensuing chaos, the hidden cultists would be rooted out.

There was only one way to buy time.

“Fight!”

They had to capture him.

They couldn’t kill him, as his death would bring a wrath they could not withstand. But if they could hold him just for a few days, the heretics in the Foul Village might have a chance to scatter.

“Capture him! Don’t kill him!”

“Good. Come at me!” the Sword Dragon yelled back.

He was surrounded by dozens of them, many wearing the blue bracelet of a 5th-Circle practitioner or the red of a transmigrator, yet he showed no fear. Perhaps he didn’t understand the odds.

‘He’d be the same even if he did.’

It was just his personality. You don’t start a one-man war in a room of hundreds by being cautious.

[Cat Panties, what should we do?]

Haryeong’s voice was a cool whisper in his mind, her eyes methodically scanning their surroundings.

[We’re supposed to be hiding our identities. The heretics are one thing, but getting tangled up with the Sword Dragon means getting tangled up with the Orsia Family. That will complicate things.]

The Orsia Family. One of the pillars of the Pride of the Cartel, the western alliance’s most ancient and powerful houses. A name that meant martial supremacy.

[If we stay, we’ll be lumped in with the heretics. Getting out of that situation will be… difficult.]

Difficult, but not impossible. He could call Elena, grovelling for an endorsement from the Heavenly Thunder Orca. Failing that, he could ask the Dang Family for help. Neither option appealed.

[Let’s run,] Haryeong suggested.

[C-Cat Panties, what do we do?] another voice, this one frantic.

The Pointing Flame kept shifting his weight, his eyes darting towards the Sword Dragon.

[I think we should help the others subdue him.]

[He looks pretty strong,] Yuri sent back.

It was an understatement.

Four 5th-Circle cultists, supported by a mage from the rear and flanked by two transmigrators probed for an opening, a weakness, but the Sword Dragon gave them none.

He was the one applying the pressure, his sword aura crashing against them in golden waves.

Being in the same circle meant nothing. At the lower levels, the gaps were small. Up here, they became chasms.

The man was bred for perfection.

His very skeleton, the quality of his muscles and meridians were optimised for the martial arts. That divine body had been honed by relentless effort and fuelled by his family’s bottomless resources. The sheer quality and quantity of the internal energy churning in his dantian were on another plane.

A difference was inevitable.

His senses were a razor’s edge. Instinct guided his sword, his subconscious swung it. For a man like him, who already looked down on the world from a great height, their numbers were a simple inconvenience.

“Argh!”

A 5th-Circle follower who met his blade head-on was cleaved from shoulder to hip. The Sword Dragon’s aura was so ferocious it was hard to believe he was of the same circle. A few direct clashes were enough to shatter their own auras and bleed their energy dry.

‘You couldn’t wear him down with numbers even if you tried.’

Yuri hung back, assessing.

The man’s internal energy was profound, his control immaculate. He shattered his opponents’ sword auras with every clash while his own remained perfectly stable. It must’ve been a Divine Art.

Yuri recognised the signature because he had one too. However, the Sword Dragon’s reserves were likely far deeper.

As quickly as Yuri had amassed his own power, this man had been born with every advantage and had doubtless consumed a hoard of spiritual elixirs most martial artists would never even see.

‘Can I win?’

The familiar tingle of a good fight prickled in his chest. But acting on it now, attacking the Sword Dragon, would be pure madness.

[The Sword Dragon is strong, but if you help, Cat Panties, we can take him,] The Pointing Flame pleaded.

[Hmm…]

[Running is pointless! For the sake of the faithful, we must hold him here!]

[I’m still leaning towards running, though…]

[If you run, I… I’ll report you to the sect as a traitor! And if I get captured, I’ll tell the Sword Dragon everything about you!]

‘Of course you would,’ Yuri thought, a grim nod to himself.

[You leave me no choice,] he sent back.

[Pointing Flame, you attack first. I’ll move when I see an opening.]

[Understood.]

The Pointing Flame raised a finger, and a searing red line shot towards the Sword Dragon.

Having just impaled a transmigrator on his blade, the young master whipped his head around.

Swoosh!

A flash of gold bisected the incoming explosion.

“Crude tricks.”

The Sword Dragon growled, his glare promising murder. He showed no signs of fatigue. The Pointing Flame flinched under that gaze and tapped Yuri on the shoulder.

[Q-Quickly…!]

Yuri drew on his internal energy.

[I’m going.]

He lifted both hands.

The Pointing Flame, his finger still aimed at the Sword Dragon, nodded eagerly.

Crack!

With his eyes still fixed on the distant fight, Yuri shot a fist out sideways. The indifferent, no-look punch shattered The Pointing Flame’s jaw.

“Kurgh!”

The man’s body sagged.

Before he could scream, Yuri swung again. A hand coated in shimmering Ganggi filled the cultist’s vision…

And that was the end of it.

“?”

The Sword Dragon, who had been glaring in their direction, stared, his eyes wide. Haryeong, standing beside Yuri, blinked in surprise. Under their collective gaze, Yuri slowly removed his mask.

“I never thought I’d see someone else start a rampage before I got the chance.”

He hadn’t dropped his disguise art; too many eyes were still watching. Yuri glanced around the chamber as he spoke.

“Estor Orsia, the Sword Dragon. Your skills are exceptional, I see, but your arrogance is just as boundless.”

“What… are you?” Estor asked, wary.

“Someone with the same goal as you.”

Yuri’s gaze swept over the remaining heretics with profound disgust.

“I went to all the trouble of infiltrating this cesspit to kill these bastards, but thanks to you, Sword Dragon, things have become a lot more tedious.”

“What did you say?”

“Tsk. I was planning to make my move when they were all stripping off and rolling around.” He glanced at Haryeong, who was watching him with an impassive expression.

“Isn’t that right?”

“Yes,” Haryeong replied without a flicker of hesitation, her tone perfectly flat.

“It would have been much easier to proceed if they were busy shaking their backsides, drunk on wine and drugs. The Sword Dragon’s rampage has made things difficult.”

“I’d even worked out the kill order to make the fight cleanest,” Yuri added.

“As expected of you, sister.”

Yuri played along for a moment before turning his attention back to the Sword Dragon.

The young master still looked baffled, suspecting some elaborate trick.

“You fight your fight, Sword Dragon.”

Yuri didn’t waste any more words.

Swoosh!

He launched himself at a nearby heretic, who stared back in shock. The man swung his sword in a panicked arc, but his flimsy sword ki was no match for Yuri’s foot.

Crunch!

The kick shattered the blade’s aura and caved in the heretic’s skull with a wet thud.

He used the man’s falling body as a springboard, launching himself towards the next follower.

Haryeong didn’t hesitate either, a dagger appearing in each hand.

With the Sword Dragon watching, she couldn’t unleash her hidden weapon arts, but she didn’t need to throw her blades to deal with these dregs. The strongest of the cultists, the 5th-Circle practitioners and the transmigrators, were all still trying to contain the golden storm that was Estor Orsia.

The Sword Dragon’s eyes slightly widened.

Two strangers had appeared from nowhere, and the heretics were dropping like flies. They’d claimed to have the same goal and it seemed they weren’t lying.

‘He’s strong,’ he thought, watching the masked man out of the corner of his eye as he kicked another cultist’s teeth down his throat.

Even with his attention divided, the Sword Dragon analysed them both.

The woman was a shadow. Her footwork was that of an assassin, her movements slithering. It was definitely an Underworld art, not something from the Righteous Path. But it was the man who drew his focus.

He was pointedly not using his arms, yet his kicks were brutally efficient. Every movement was precise, his internal energy controlled, never wasted.

He had never heard of a prominent martial artist who specialised in leg techniques, and the man didn’t look much older than him.

The Sword Dragon hesitated for a fraction of a second, his golden onslaught wavering as he reassessed the chaos.

He’d come here alone, knowing it was reckless, planning only to scout their numbers before calling in the knights, but his temper had got the better of him. He hadn’t thought he’d need backup as none of these cultists had been a real threat. However…

Yuri could feel the weight of the Sword Dragon’s attention shift towards him. A flicker of tension now coiled in the young master’s stance where before there had only been arrogant fury.

‘Who is he?’

The unspoken question hung in the air, over the screams and the clash of steel.

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried