WeTried Translations

Translator: Joy

Editor: Joy

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

◈ Damned Transmigration

Chapter 63

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The witch’s house

The plan had been a simple infiltration, using The Pointing Flame to get inside the heretics’ gathering, meet the other transmigrators, drop Cat Panties’ name and spin a few convenient lies to get some intel.

Then, when the Bishop showed up, Yuri would slip out before the baptism permanently flagged him as a heretic. Best case scenario, he’d bleed them for every scrap of information about the cult.

But the Sword Dragon’s temper and the Young Leader’s sudden appearance had sent the whole script sideways.

‘Still,’ Yuri thought, ‘can’t argue with the results.’

For starters, The Pointing Flame was dead before he could spout any more nonsense. The Bishop, the 6th-Circle mage known as the Withered Crone, was also dead.

While he’d missed his chance to connect with the other transmigrators, he’d made contact with the Estor and the Biyeon instead.

Saving the Young Leader was a significant achievement, no doubt about it, as it had earned him a debt of gratitude from Sword Shadow, one of the Seven Evils.

The Young Leader herself must have walked away with a good impression; Yuri had saved her neck and even given her a mask.

And it wasn't just the Demonic Cult.

The Sword Dragon, striding a few paces ahead, was clearly intrigued. When Yuri had first seen him erupt at the gathering, he’d written him off as some hot-headed lunatic, but after a brief exchange, the man seemed a damn sight better than that bastard from the Namgung Family.

“The Young Leader of the Demonic Cult, Sword Shadow of the Seven Evils, and the Sword Dragon of the Orsia Family.”

Haryeong, who had been uncharacteristically silent at his side, finally spoke. She tapped the fox mask tied to her hip.

“As expected of you, Yuri. Two years after taking Rutlan by storm, you’re still causing a stir wherever you go.”

“So you’ve found your tongue again.”

In the past, he would have just let her nonsense slide. However, his standing had changed, and two years on his own had forged a harder edge to his patience.

“You were so scared a moment ago you couldn’t string two words together,” Yuri retorted.

“Now that the ghost has vanished, you feel brave enough to speak?”

“Sir, you are under a strange misapprehension. Scared? I have never experienced such a feeling.”

“Oh, really? Weren’t your shoulders practically trying to swallow your head while you whimpered for a mother who wasn’t even here?”

“Mentioning my parents is crossing a line.”

“Wait, Haryeong. Don’t move.”

Her expression turned sharp, and Yuri’s mirrored it.

He froze, his gaze fixed on the space just behind her. Haryeong’s body went rigidg. The playful flicker in her eyes was replaced by a taut watchfulness.

“What is it?”

“Behind you!”

Haryeong launched herself into the air with a startled yelp, the sight triggering a strange wave of nostalgia in Yuri.

He imagined himself at his studio flat back on Earth, phone in hand as he scrolled before sleep. What always got him were the clips of cats jumping out of their skin at nothing.

Haryeong’s panicked leap was a perfect imitation. Her tail didn’t puff up and the fur on her back didn’t stand on end, but her shoulders were hunched up so high they almost touched her ears.

“My mistake,” Yuri said, just as her feet touched the ground.

Haryeong said nothing.

She pressed her lips into a thin, bloodless line and glared at him. The murderous intent in her eyes was sharper than when she’d faced the Blood Fiend two years ago. Her eyebrows were angled so severely they might have set a new record.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Because I am genuinely considering how to kill you.”

“Let’s not use such harsh words between us.”

“Us? What kind of us are we?”

“A brother and sister. Acquaintances. Good friends…”

“Alright then, Yuri. Do you want to die?”

Haryeong shot back the moment the words left his mouth, as if she’d been waiting.

“Your manners are fucking atrocious, little brother. Where did you learn such a rotten trick?”

“That, that language is a bit crude…”

“If you ever pull a stunt like that again, your big sister will be the death of you.”

She took a breath, composing her features and ignoring the cold sweat trickling down her spine.

“Just because your martial arts have improved, you’ve become insufferable. You were almost cute when you were weak. But do not forget, Yuri, I am a salsu. I am far more skilled at stabbing from the back than from the front.”

“Yes, Dark Blossom.”

“Do you know the significance of having a flower in one’s title?” Haryeong asked, her deadpan mask back in place.

She puffed out her chest slightly.

“A young age, outstanding looks, and exceptional skill. Only when all three are present is a flower granted.”

‘Right,’ Yuri thought.

‘The naming conventions here are so rigid.’

Flowers for the top-tier young women, Dragons for the men. It was a simple, unsubtle system.

There were exceptions, of course, like the Snow Princess, Yeon Ri-eunha. As the Silver Empress of War’s granddaughter, she’d inherited a title befitting her lineage.

“But you’re not exactly young, are you, Haryeong?” Yuri blurted out.

Haryeong’s composure finally shattered.

Thwack!

Her foot connected squarely with his shin.

“Ow.”

“Don’t make that sound when it doesn’t even hurt.”

In fact, a sharp sting shot up her own leg from the impact.

“You have many misunderstandings about me, Yuri. My age is a secret, but I am not so old that I cannot be called a flower.”

“So how old are you?”

“Secret.”

While they bickered, the Sword Dragon remained silent. He kept glancing over, clearly wanting to join the conversation, yet their easy familiarity seemed to have built a wall he was hesitant to breach.

‘He flew off the handle at those heretics,’ Yuri noted, watching the man’s furtive glances, ‘but now he’s as cautious as a squire.’

“Is there something you wish to say?” Yuri asked, taking pity on him.

Since they were stuck together, might as well build a rapport.

“I believe he’s looking because he finds my face more beautiful than he expected,” Haryeong muttered, her expression blank.

“This is your fault for talking nonsense earlier. The Sword Dragon must have thought my face was so mangled it needed hiding, but then the mask comes off and he sees this. It’s understandable that he’d be surprised.”

“You’re shameless.”

“Are you saying my face is mangled?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

He wasn’t about to admit she was right, so he let it drop.

The Sword Dragon, finally given an opening, cleared his throat and slowed to walk beside them.

“I admit, I was surprised by the face behind the mask. And… I was also surprised that you were using a Disguise Art, Thunder Cloud.”

“Why are you suddenly speaking so formally? You were cursing and talking down to me not an hour ago.”

“That was before we had properly introduced ourselves,” the Sword Dragon said, an awkwardness settling over his features.

“Hmm. Forgive my ignorance, but I must confess I know nothing of the title Thunder Cloud”.

“That is because I have rarely been active in public.”

“Have you, perhaps, been involved in wicked deeds?”

“I haven’t done anything particularly virtuous, but I haven’t done anything wicked either.”

“Hmm… I am not one to discriminate between the Righteous Path and the Underworld. I, Estor Orsia, believe I can be friends with anyone, so long as they are not of the Demonic Cult or one of these heretics.”

He cleared his throat again.

“So, what is the relationship between you two? It seems you have known each other for some time.”

“Yuri was the childhood friend of Lady Elena, whom I served until recently,” Haryeong answered smoothly.

“We interacted a great deal two years ago. I even taught him the basics of martial arts.”

“The basics… of martial arts?”

The Sword Dragon staggered, his eyes widening as he stared at Yuri.

“If you mean Lady Elena, you must be referring to… Marigold. You learned the basics two years ago? Does that mean… Thunder Cloud, you’re the same age as me, twenty-two, yet you only began your training two years ago?”

“That’s right.”

At Yuri’s confirmation, the Sword Dragon stopped walking altogether, a hollow laugh escaping his lips.

“Ha… haha… I see. I see… The world is truly vast.”

He stared up at the sky, a dazed look on his face.

“This is no boast, but I was born with talent into a privileged house. I have received immense support, and I have never lacked for effort. Naturally… I came to believe I was the most outstanding warrior of my generation.”

Between Marigold, Snow Princess and Hegemon Dragon, Sword Dragon had always considered himself first among them.

“But today, the sky I had so foolishly narrowed has collapsed. The Young Leader of the Demonic Cult, a figure of rumour, is my age and my equal. And you, Thunder Cloud… you are my age, at the same Circle, yet you began your training only two years ago…”

“It was thanks to some fortuitous encounters,” Yuri said quickly.

“Fist Wolf taught me, it’s true, but I’ve also had several strokes of luck since then.”

“Fortuitous encounters?”

“Yes. In Rutlan, I received an elixir and a manual from Heavenly Thunder. I also had an opportunity in Logos.”

“Logos? You mean the Rift of Chaos?”

“The very same. As you know, Sword Dragon, such opportunities can arise in Rifts.”

This was a language Estor Orsia understood. The Orsia Family’s greatest headache was the refugee crisis caused by the Ranalsa Rift, which had opened fifty years ago. Since his city, Panteleon, was close by, Orsia knights were obligated to help manage the Rift.

He knew all about the strange boons one could find within them.

“Isn’t that right?” Yuri said, glancing at Haryeong.

There had been no such encounter in Logos, but she wasn’t foolish enough to correct him here.

“Do you know what Yuri’s nickname was in Rutlan?” Haryeong asked.

“I do not.”

“The 3.5 Billion Man.”

The Sword Dragon blinked, confused.

Haryeong continued, her face a perfect mask of sincerity.

“Yuri arrived in the city with nothing but the clothes on his back and earned that sum in less than a month.”

The noble’s eyes widened. Even for a man born with a silver spoon the size of a shovel, he understood the sheer impossibility of that number for a penniless commoner.

“I have met many people,” Haryeong said, “but never one as lucky as Yuri. I believe his greatest talent is pure luck. He proved it again in Logos. I joked that we might find some fated opportunity, but I never imagined we actually would.”

“Hah…”

“He’s stumbled into several more since then. Without them, he would not have reached his current level.”

She offered no details, and the Sword Dragon didn’t press. Such things were secrets one guarded closely.

‘Elixirs and lost manuals,’ he concluded, a grin spreading across his face.

“Indeed. It seems your luck is real, Thunder Cloud. And I have benefited from it. Had it just been us, killing that Withered Crone would not have been easy. Not impossible, but it would have cost us dearly.”

“Even so, getting entangled with the Demonic Cult feels like bad luck to me.”

“Haha, perhaps, yet gained a great deal today. I killed a heretic Bishop and learned the world is vaster than I knew. I saw I was just a frog in a well. I even crossed swords with Sword Shadow, a man they say is approaching the level of a Sword Fiend.”

Estor’s expression grew serious.

“But most of all, I gained the chance to turn a surprising meeting into a lasting connection. I, Estor Orsia, consider meeting you both to be the greatest fortune of this day.”

“You flatter us.”

“It is no flattery. Therefore, Thunder Cloud, Dark Blossom, I sincerely hope our meeting does not end here.”

He bowed his head respectfully.

“I wish to invite you to the Orsia Family as our guests. I give you my word, on my honour and my name, that you will be treated with the utmost courtesy.”

“How could we refuse such an earnest invitation? The honour is ours. Please, raise your head.”

The Sword Dragon smiled, straightening up.

“Thank you. Now, we will soon arrive at the old witch’s residence. Let’s have a quick look, then return together.”

“Alright, Estor,” Haryeong said.

He blinked at the sudden familiarity.

“You said you were twenty-two, didn’t you?”

“Well, yes, but…”

“Haryeong, please don’t.”

“The atmosphere was getting too stiff,” she said with a shrug.

“I thought I’d make a joke.”

“Um… I, I don’t mind,” the Sword Dragon stammered.

“Alright, Estor,” Yuri chimed in.

A complex mix of emotions flickered across the young noble’s face before he settled on a strained nod.

“Alright, Thunder Cloud.”

The Withered Crone’s residence was an old, unassuming building tucked away in an alley off a bustling street. Like The Pointing Flame’s shack, it was layered with complex spells.

Fortunately, they weren’t the kind that activated on proximity. It was a sophisticated security system, designed to trigger only if someone tried to force entry.

“Magic,” the Sword Dragon muttered.

Yuri also stopped, his eyes scanning the building, trying to parse the spell formulae.

They were designed to send an immediate signal to the Crone upon a breach, then deploy countermeasures according to her will. With her dead, a brute force approach wouldn’t be a problem.

“Can you disable it?”

“It’s beyond my skill.”

The Sword Dragon nodded and drew his sword, the same one Sword Shadow had snapped in two.

“Then I’ll cut it.”

“Can you?”

“Thunder Cloud, you saw it yourself. There is nothing Orsia’s Light Sword cannot cut.”

Though his words were laced with bravado, it was true that his Light Sword had cleaved through the Crone’s magic in a single strike.

Yuri and Haryeong fell back, taking up guard positions.

The Sword Dragon focused his sword aura into the broken blade. A golden energy began to seethe and cling to the metal, a low rumble in the air.

‘About three minutes,’ Yuri calculated.

The time it took to cook a pot of instant noodles.

Beads of sweat were already forming on the Sword Dragon’s forehead. Unleashing the Light Sword was clearly a massive strain on his internal energy.

Crackle…

As he stepped forward, the magic woven into the building reacted.

The immense mana of the Light Sword clashed with the ambient field, distorting the dormant spell formulae and creating shimmering cracks in the space around the door.

‘I see.’

So that’s how it worked. The Light Sword destabilised magic, creating fissures in the spell itself. These cracks were like a perforated line and all he had to do was cut along it.

“Hup.”

With a short cry, the sword swung.

Swish!

The golden slash traced the cracks, and the web of spells simply dissolved.

“It’s done.”

The Sword Dragon let out a long breath, the light fading from his blade.

He had proven his point: Orsia’s Light Sword, much like the Heavenly Demon’s Divine Art, was a direct counter to magic.

‘Could I do that?’ Yuri wondered.

The Heavenly Art of Annihilating Evil could burn away mana. The Sacred Flame Release technique bypassed physical defences to burn an opponent’s insides. If he could reverse that principle, focus it outwards… he might be able to deal with magic in a far more versatile way.

‘Something to think about.’

Seeing the Heavenly Demon’s Art and the Light Sword up close had broadened his perspective.

He didn’t like being called the 3.5 Billion Man, but he had to admit, this was one hell of a lucky break.

“Let’s go in.”

The Sword Dragon wiped his brow and pushed the door open.

‘Maybe there’s a grimoire,’ Yuri thought.

Information on the heretics was the priority, but he wouldn’t say no to a magic book. The Withered Crone was a 6th-Circle mage, so even if her school of magic wasn’t to his taste, a high-circle grimoire was a valuable asset.

Creeak.

The door swung inward without resistance.

“She lived well,” Yuri said, his first impression spoken aloud.

The interior was dazzling, a world away from The Pointing Flame’s abode, yet the air was thick with an artificial, unnervingly clean scent.

The reason became apparent in the first room they entered. Lining the walls in ornate display cases were large glass jars, inside which floated the preserved organs and flesh of humans and beasts.

The gruesome collection, arranged amongst lavish furniture, was deeply unsettling.

Yuri glanced at Haryeong’s expressionless face and leaned in close to her.

“Boo.”

Smack!

A sharp slap cracked across his cheek.

Before he could even register the sting, Haryeong’s hand was raised again, her eyes as cold and dead as winter stone.

“I said I’d kill you.”

“My apologies.”

Yuri’s apology was sincere. He’d gone too far.

“Let’s search the place instead of dying.”

“…?”

“My apologies again.”

Haryeong’s expression finally twisted into a grimace.

“Our Yuri’s lost it.”

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried