WeTried Translations

Translator: Joy

Editor: Joy

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

◈ Damned Transmigration

Chapter 59

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Withered Crone

The underground cavern, once a den for hundreds of heretics, was now a tomb. Only three living figures stood among the sprawling corpses.

Killing so many should have been a monumental task, but since the heretics had broken and fled the moment Yuri and Haryeong joined the Sword Dragon’s whirlwind of death, they had less enemies to worry about.

Still, not all of them had been so lucky.

The blue-braceleted zealots and red-braceleted transmigrators who had first swarmed the swordsman now lay in pieces. The Sword Dragon had let the distant cowards run, but anyone within reach of his blade had been reaped.

Yuri’s gaze drifted over the body of a transmigrator, a man whose face and name were equally unknown.

A flicker of something cold and uncomfortable twisted in his gut. They were from the same world, two victims dragged into this mess by a cruel twist of fate.

He crushed the feeling before it could take root. An enemy was an enemy. Sentiment was a liability.

“So,” the Sword Dragon began, his sword still held loosely in one hand.

Not a single bead of sweat marred his brow. His breathing was even, his posture relaxed, utterly untouched by the slaughter.

“Who are you?”

He was clearly irritated that so many had escaped his personal judgment, but that was a problem for later. Cleansing the outer districts of this filth was now a matter of family duty.

First, however, he had to deal with the two strangers who fought like demons but bore none of the heretics’ marks.

“You,” he said, his eyes fixing on Haryeong.

“Woman. Take off your mask.”

“My lady’s face is not fit to be seen,” Yuri answered for her.

Haryeong’s head snapped towards him, a glare burning through the holes of her crude mask.

[I am suddenly consumed by the urge to become a cold, merciless and terrifying assassin.]

[I wasn’t being serious...]

Yuri pressed on, ignoring the silent threat.

The Sword Dragon seemed taken aback by the blunt excuse. He paused, his sharp gaze shifting from Haryeong to Yuri.

“Then, who are you?”

‘Of course that’s the next question.’

Yuri let the silence hang for a moment.

Should he use his alias, Crimson Foot? Or just come clean and admit he was Thunder Cloud?

There was little reason to lie to this man. He had only adopted the disguise to move through the Foul Village without attracting the wrong kind of attention from heretics or other transmigrators, sealing his fists to focus on his footwork.

‘It’s not like I’ve done anything wrong,’ he reasoned.

‘If anything, I deserve a reward for helping him hunt these cultists.’

“It’s not over yet,” Yuri said, buying time.

He scuffed a blood-caked boot on the stone floor.

“The Bishop hasn’t appeared.”

“The Bishop?”

“Yes. A 6th-Circle mage. He’s the one who rules the heretics in this territory.”

All he knew came from the dead man, The Pointing Flame. The Bishop’s true identity was a mystery.

“The first one I killed said the Bishop would be coming down from above soon.”

Yuri slowly tilted his head back, his eyes tracing the cavern’s rough-hewn ceiling. Haryeong and the Sword Dragon followed his gaze.

“He’s not coming.”

“…”

“Perhaps he saw you on a rampage, Sword Dragon, and decided to cut his losses.”

“Are you blaming me?” the swordsman asked, his voice dangerously low.

“Well, who else?” Yuri met his glare without flinching.

“The heretics we killed were just followers. Pawns.”

He let the words sink in.

“I infiltrated this gathering to kill the Bishop. I figured as long as he died, it wouldn’t matter if the small fry escaped. What do you think, Sword Dragon?”

The man didn’t answer, a muscle twitching in his jaw. Yuri knew he had struck a nerve.

The Sword Dragon had slain dozens, but hundreds more had fled. Worse, he hadn’t even laid eyes on their leader. The followers could be rounded up eventually, but an unidentified 6th-Circle mage could vanish without a trace.

“My mistake,” the Sword Dragon finally conceded, the admission costing him visible effort.

“I am sorry for disrupting your plan.”

He let out a heavy sigh and raked a hand through his hair.

Yuri blinked. He hadn’t expected such a straightforward apology.

Were all high nobles this well-schooled? Raised on such a strict diet of etiquette that they were actually reasonable?

‘That Namgung Jin bastard must have been a special kind of arsehole.’

That man’s personality had been on par with Yuri’s own, and he was an orphan who had grown up scrapping for every meal.

“I’m going to find him,” Yuri declared.

“I said he might have run, but that’s just a guess. He could still be waiting upstairs.”

He saw his chance.

“We can introduce ourselves properly after the search is over.”

He had neatly deferred the question of his identity. If things went well, he might tell them the truth. If not, he could simply disappear.

“I will accompany you,” the Sword Dragon stated.

“A 6th-Circle mage, you said? I concede that you are both formidable, easily among the strongest of the 5th Circle. But you will lack the power to face a mage of a higher rank.”

“So you’ll help us?”

“My family and I should have dealt with this filth long ago. If the Bishop has escaped, the responsibility is mine.”

With that, he turned, his bearing that of a man already on the hunt.

[I thought a young master from the Orsia Family would be a prick like Namgung Jin, but he’s actually quite decent,] Haryeong’s voice echoed in Yuri’s mind.

[Oh, and please do not reply. I’m simply a woman with a ruined face after all.]

[I, er, I didn’t say it was ruined…]

[Just don’t talk to me.]

A palpable chill emanated from her.

She fell into step behind the Sword Dragon, swapping the heretic’s mask for the elegant fox mask she usually wore.

The Sword Dragon, sensing the movement, glanced back. He stopped, his eyes fixed on the smiling fox.

“Why the mask…?”

“My face is so ruined I can’t show it to people,” she said, her tone perfectly flat.

“So I wear a cute one instead.”

“Sword Dragon, my lady’s face is perfectly fine,” Yuri cut in hastily.

“In fact, she’s beautiful. There’s just… a story behind why she doesn’t take it off.”

The swordsman blinked, his confusion plain.

“What are you talking about?”

“Anyway, let’s just go,” Yuri said, nudging Haryeong forward. He risked a glance at her.

The mask hid her expression, but the icy glint in her eyes seemed to have thawed.

[I am well aware that I am pretty.]

Her anger, it seemed, had passed.

[But, Sir Yuri,] her thoughts continued, all business now.

[Do you know where the Bishop is?]

‘We’ll have to go up and search…’

RUMBLE!

A violent tremor shook the entire cavern, sending dust and stone raining from the ceiling.

***

Of all the great mage towers on the continent, the Rudella Mage Tower was said to walk a crooked path. Its mages pursued a single, blasphemous truth: the conquest of mortality. They denied the fundamental law that all things born must die.

Biyeon scoffed, her annoyance a bitter taste in her mouth.

‘To think she’d take refuge with the Sect of Chaos.’

She finally understood.

She had never met the Withered Crone, had never even heard the name until her master, the Heavenly Demon, had summoned her. He had called both Biyeon and an unsettling archmage into his chambers.

Herein Rudella, the Corpse Immortal, Master of the Rudella Mage Tower. An old friend of the Heavenly Demon, but one who rarely left the shadowed confines of her spire.

Her master had simply pointed at Biyeon.

“Go and kill the Withered Crone,” he had ordered.

‘So suddenly?’ Biyeon had thought, bewildered.

The target was a nobody, a witch who had deserted the Rudella Mage Tower a decade ago. She was no enemy of the Demonic Cult, and the tower itself had not bothered to hunt her down.

She remembered the Corpse Immortal’s dry, rasping voice.

‘Is there any need to keep her alive?’

‘She didn't run off with anything important,’ her master had replied, his tone dismissive.

‘It was just a hassle to deal with her.’

‘Then it’s fine to kill her.’

‘Indeed.’

And that was it.

“It was because of the Sect of Chaos,” Biyeon muttered, the pieces clicking into place.

Two years ago, she had accompanied her master to the sanctuary of the Sect of Order. There, she had met their High Priestess and the woman they called Lorelia, the Fell Saint of the Martial Pinnacle.

She was a warrior said to be even more ferocious than the War Sect’s own Saint. She never would have guessed that this ‘Fell Saint’ was her Shigu, her master’s martial sister. It was not a subject she dared broach.

But she remembered the conversation.

The High Priestess had declared that the Heavenly Demon was the one closest to killing the evil god and her master had not denied it.

‘Does he truly intend to kill a god?’

He had shown a flicker of interest in the wish the Goddess of Order would grant, but he would not wage war for something so trivial.

Biyeon, his own disciple, could not fathom his true power, but she knew his ambition was challenging the 10th Circle, the very realm of divinity.

Was he blocked by that final wall? No. He simply wanted to see if it could be done to see if the power a mortal could accumulate was enough to make an immortal die.

Sending her here was a declaration of war against the Sect of Chaos.

For the Heavenly Demon to crush a ‘mere’ Bishop himself would be beneath him. So, he would deliver his message through his disciple.

“Are you going to keep following me?” Biyeon glanced over her shoulder, her voice sharp with irritation.

Behind her, Sword Shadow offered a faint smile.

“I understand why my master sent me. I will deliver his message alone.”

“I am aware of your excellent skills, Young Leader,” he said smoothly.

“But the Withered Crone is a cunning mage.”

“Do you think Master sent me here to die?”

“Haha, of course not. But if I fail to protect you, the Leader will kill me himself,” Sword Shadow replied, his smile unwavering.

Biyeon glared at him for a moment longer before turning back towards the dilapidated building below, where the followers of Chaos were preparing their ritual.

She narrowed her eyes, focusing her senses.

It was then that the mana in the air began to churn violently.

A great, grey, dome-like shadow bloomed in the sky above the building. It solidified, then plummeted, aimed to crush the entire structure.

CRUMBLE!

The building buckled with a sound like an earthquake.

Biyeon stared, startled, as a robed figure materialised at the heart of the maelstrom.

Withered Crone.

She didn’t know why the old witch was destroying her own hideout, but there was no mistaking her identity.

“Hah.”

Even Sword Shadow let out a noise of surprise.

Biyeon did not hesitate. She unleashed the Heavenly Demon’s Divine Art.

FWOOSH!

Black Ganggi coiled around her like a shroud. A crimson glow bled from the eyeholes of her blank, white mask.

CRACK!

She kicked off the ground, a black-and-red blur shooting upwards into the collapsing structure.

The Withered Crone saw her coming.

The face revealed from beneath a fluttering hood was not the shrivelled visage Biyeon had expected. The woman was gaunt, but her skin was smooth, her features uncannily young thanks to magic suppressing the decay of age.

However, even after a decade, the Crone had not broken through the wall to the 7th Circle.

“And who the hell are you?!” the witch shrieked, her voice hoarse, a jarring contrast to her youthful face.

Biyeon gave no answer.

She channelled the internal energy of the Heavenly Demon's Divine Art into her right hand, forming the Heavenly Demon's Soul-Annihilating Palm.

Black Ganggi erupted from her outstretched hand.

BOOM!

The preemptive strike sent the Withered Crone staggering back.

The witch threw up a shimmering barrier just as she swung a gnarled staff, meeting Biyeon in a clash of dark power.

***

Rumble…

The world was shaking apart.

One moment, Yuri was negotiating a tentative alliance with the Sword Dragon to hunt down a 6th-Circle Bishop. The next, the ceiling was coming down on their heads.

“Erm…” Haryeong, who had dodged the first wave of falling debris with nimble grace, paused.

She couldn’t call him Cat Panties in front of the Sword Dragon.

Yuri was out of the question. Crimson Foot? That alias was temporary.

“My friend, are you alright?” she settled on, deciding a lack of a name was the safest option.

“Yes, my lady.”

Yuri brushed a layer of stone dust from his shoulder.

The Sword Dragon, who had simply carved the debris out of the air with his sword aura, was equally unharmed.

“It seems he didn’t run,” the Sword Dragon spat, his eyes narrowed.

“Looks like that Bishop fellow intended to bury us.”

Yuri agreed. A completed spell would have entombed them all, giving the mage a perfect opportunity to flee.

‘But the spell wasn’t completed.’

He hadn't stopped out of a change of heart, he must have been interrupted.

CRASH!

Another section of the ceiling gave way and a figure dropped through the new opening.

Biyeon landed without a sound, a phantom in a white mask, but froze as she took in the scene.

Her head swivelled, scanning the carnage.

Mangled corpses littered the floor, clearly dead long before the collapse.

‘What is this?’ she thought, baffled.

Where were the hundreds of heretics who should have been here? And who were these three, standing unharmed amidst the rubble?

Her eyes, glowing faintly red, widened.

She recognised the man from the street, the one whose presence had set her nerves alight and the woman in the fox mask. But the blond man…

“Sword Dragon?” Biyeon’s voice was sharp with disbelief.

Of course she knew the title. While she, the Heavenly Demon’s disciple, remained a shadow to the world, the Sword Dragon’s fame preceded him. He was a rival to be measured, and he was right there.

“To interfere…!” a raspy voice hissed from above.

The Withered Crone descended slowly, her face a mask of fury.

Killing the Sword Dragon would make an enemy of the Orsia Family, so she had intended to seal the building and flee, but this masked girl had ruined everything.

“Who in the world are you? What gives you the right to mess with me?”

It was too late to run. The Crone’s shoulders trembled with rage as she glared down at the five of them: the two who had started the rampage, the Sword Dragon who had joined them and the girl who had just shattered her escape.

“Sword Dragon, you insolent little brat!” she shrieked.

“Hiding behind your family’s name and running wild! I was going to spare you, but that is no longer an option!”

Since escape was impossible, she would kill the Sword Dragon and face the Orsia’s wrath. She would kill the girl who had forced her hand, and she would kill the other two, whoever they were.

She would kill them all and take their souls. For the Sword Dragon, she would take his corpse as well.

If she presented such a prize to the Sect, they would surely protect her.

‘I might even become a Saint.’

The thought was a balm on her boiling fury.

FWOOOSH!

An ominous, grey light swirled around her.

“I’ll kill you all! Every last one of you!”

SCREEEEEECH!

A ghostly face composed of grey energy appeared behind her, unleashing a sound that tore at the very fabric of the soul.

“Oh, my.”

Haryeong flinched, pressing herself against Yuri’s side.

Yuri, already tense, startled at the sudden voice and the unexpected weight on his arm.

He turned his head.

The mask hid her expression, but her shoulders were hunched, her posture betraying a flicker of genuine fear.

“Wh-what was that?”

“It was nothing,” she said, quickly pulling away and straightening her back, her composure snapping back into place like a drawn bowstring.

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried