WeTried Translations

Translator: Joy

Editor: Joy

Discord: https://dsc.gg/wetried

◈ Damned Transmigration

Chapter 74

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F*ck

A Glimmerblade, condensed from pure sword aura, strikes faster than a Light Sword, but its impact is softer.

In a spar, a contest of skill not a battle to the death, Estor could not use a Light Sword.

It was a Finishing Art, and his mastery was not yet absolute. The process itself, melting aura with aura and infusing it with Willpower, was supposedly impossible for a 5th Circle martial artist.

Besides, unleashing a Light Sword in a duel against an opponent like Thunder Cloud would be suicide.

So he had taken the Sword Emperor’s advice and perfected the Glimmerblade, training to form it as fast as he could summon his aura.

'He’s coming.'

The frantic hammering in his chest had finally ceased.

He knew Thunder Cloud’s skill, how the man fought. He had seen with his own eyes precisely why they called him Thunder Cloud.

Estor focused his sight until his eyeballs ached.

The instant the Purple Lightning bloomed, Thunder Cloud was already moving with an acceleration that put him at the very peak of his peers.

The match had just begun and Estor’s eyes were not yet accustomed to the velocity. He had pictured this moment a hundred times, but imagination was a poor substitute.

He forced his focus, refusing to miss a thing, and instead of creating more distance, Estor stepped forward.

The moment he registered the blurred afterimage of a flicker of lightning, his sword was already in motion.

The Orsian Sword Saint Style was not bound by a single form.

It was a swift sword and a slow sword. It was gentle, then it was ferocious. It was constant change, then it was absolute stillness. It was called the Sword Saint Style because it had mastered every possible expression of the blade.

And the expression Estor brandished now was pure speed.

The Glimmerblade, honed over a month of relentless practice, carved through the air exactly where he willed it.

'Missed.'

The feedback from the blade’s tip was empty. No connection. Without doubting his judgement, Estor twisted his body.

'He's in deep.'

Assessments came one after another, cold and rapid.

He kicked off the ground.

Crack!

His returning foot struck the arena floor like a fallen star.

The Quaking Step, a seamlessly linked movement, sent a tremor through the stone. It was no simple vibration. Crackling Lightning Qi spread with the shockwave, a current that could paralyse on the slightest touch.

Estor, who had only been briefly airborne, threw his weight down into a counter-stomp. His own Quaking Step met the attack head-on, pushing back the tide of lightning and splitting the ground between them.

With his centre of gravity now firmly anchored, Estor gripped his sword with both hands. The light of the Glimmerblade intensified, burning with a brilliant white glare.

He swung.

This time, the sword was slow, heavy. It seemed to pull the very mana from the air towards it, a sword that imposed its own weight upon space itself.

Yuri felt the air turn to sludge around him.

He drove his feet into the ground, resisting the pressure. His plan had been to use his speed and slip inside the swordsman’s guard, but he was now aware that was no longer an option.

'Get near that and it'll take my arm off.'

That entire area was now the Sword Dragon’s kill zone.

The red Ganggi of the Heavenly Art of Annihilating Evil flared, wrapping Yuri’s body in a protective cloak.

Stopping was not the answer. Keeping his distance would gain him nothing. And if he waited, that space-crushing sword would eventually pin him down.

As his feet blurred into the Whirlwind Cloud Steps, his body swayed, creating a dozen dizzying afterimages.

'One of them is real. Just watch the eyes.'

Rumble!

The Glimmerblade, laden with its impossible weight, swung the entangled mana with it.

A great, invisible wave of force crashed through the space. A subtle tremor ran through Yuri's deceiving afterimages.

'He’s not in any of them?'

They were all fakes, yet Estor felt no panic, he simply tilted his body to the side.

The judgement was correct.

Swish!

Thunder Cloud’s foot scythed through the air where his head had just been. He had closed the distance in an instant.

Estor felt no relief at the failed attack and simply swung his sword.

As the Glimmerblade swept towards him, Thunder Cloud’s body spun like a gyroscope.

Sparks!

Golden light and red flames clashed, scattering into the air.

'Shallow.'

It was a scrape.

He’d chosen the Glimmerblade precisely because he’d sensed Thunder Cloud’s Ganggi was like a flame and knew a simple blade of aura wouldn't have even left a mark, yet it only held a slight advantage in sharpness.

'You have to be joking.'

He almost laughed.

This was a technique taught to him by the Sword Emperor himself. The strongest swordsman in the world had personally instructed him in the Orsian Sword Saint Style, an art honed for centuries by the world’s most brilliant swordsmen.

With all that, the best he could manage was a scratch.

He knew nothing of Thunder Cloud’s martial art, but that flame-like Ganggi was a constant presence.

'Can I keep scraping it away?'

Estor had no confidence he could maintain the Glimmerblade's edge long enough to cut through, however a lack of confidence was no reason to retreat.

He guided his sword and a small tremor from the blade spread outwards like a ripple. The single edge split into tens, then hundreds of phantom blades fanning out around him.

The web of slashing attacks then shifted again, weaving a complex and unpredictable path.

Boom!

His own attacks exploded prematurely. Counterattacks had pierced every gap in his pattern.

Where a fist could land, a fist landed. Where a foot could reach, a foot swung. Thunder Cloud’s movements were more vexing than he had ever imagined. Facing a fighter who used both arms and legs so freely was like fighting four men at once.

Still, it was thrilling. A sharp jolt ran down his spine.

Estor shifted his grip from two hands to one.

The sound of his own sword swing never reached his ears. He was making constant, minute corrections to the path he first drew in his mind.

He had to. Thunder Cloud was always a step ahead.

The length of his arm plus the sword should have given him a clear advantage in distance. Any swordsman had that over a hand-to-hand fighter.

Once a warrior could manifest their Ganggi, they could dominate the fight simply by extending their aura, but at Estor's current level, extending and retracting the Glimmerblade was impossible.

Thunder Cloud kept his Ganggi sheathed around his body. The reach advantage was still, technically, Estor's. His only job was to cut the man down before he could break inside that reach.

'Advantage?'

Even with superior range, he was still correcting, still redrawing the path of his sword in his head.

In martial arts, flow was everything. One move must lead to the next without a break.

A downward diagonal slash leaves the top of your body open, so you must raise the sword again. A thrust exposes your torso, so you must link it to a withdrawal or a follow-up cut.

Against Thunder Cloud, none of that was simple.

He couldn't thrust. If he opened his body like that, the opening would be exploited instantly. He couldn't cut diagonally either. A relentless intuition screamed at him that it was a mistake. When he compromised, choosing a safer, possible sword path, it felt clumsy.

The flow was broken. It felt like...

'Wait.'

The spar between Thunder Cloud and the Fist King two days ago. Thunder Cloud’s movements now… they resembled the Fist King’s.

He couldn't sever every attack like the master, but he was definitely cutting off whatever could be cut, and in doing so, he was subtly guiding Estor’s sword where he wanted it to go.

'This is different from the underground.'

The Thunder Cloud he had seen then was fluid and free. His movements as he danced through a hundred opponents had been beautiful, almost mesmerising.

He was like a cloud, untouchable, deflecting attacks and stealing the flow of the battle.

This was not that. The fluid movements were now as sharp as a forest of swords. Instead of deflecting, he was dictating the fight by severing Estor's options completely.

'Don't tell me he learned that from a single duel?'

He focused on evasion, waiting for the swing, and then aimed for the precise moment of recovery after the blade had passed.

In that instant, Estor understood.

Thunder Cloud had just given his freedom a direction that restricted his opponent. Even Estor's frantically corrected sword paths were all part of Thunder Cloud's design.

"Heh."

A laugh escaped him.

Realising that his best tactical choices were, in the end, just him dancing on another man's strings, wasn’t particularly enjoyable.

Thus, Estor changed his thinking.

He stopped correcting his sword path and abandoned the idea of maintaining distance, of safely scraping and cutting. That was the path of the timid and the weak. If a move was wrong, it was wrong. If it was right, it was right.

A grin spread across Estor's face.

He strode forward.

He swung to cut but fell short. As he twisted to avoid the waiting fist, the tip of a high kick grazed his cheek by a hair's breadth. Neither of them had landed a clean blow.

He saw Thunder Cloud’s body tilt off-balance.

It was too late to bring his sword arm back, so he let go of it.

His left hand, already waiting below, snatched the hilt and slashed at Thunder Cloud’s body. Just as the blade was about to connect, Thunder Cloud leapt from a single foot.

The unstable posture gained explosive power as he flooded it with internal energy.

He vaulted over the slashing attack, kicked off the air itself, and brought his descending foot down on Estor's head.

Instead of dodging, Estor raised his now-empty right arm to block.

Crack!

His protective Ganggi wavered. The impact sent a numbing shock through his arm and drove his feet into the ground.

Had he not focused his defence, the limb would have snapped.

The sword in his left hand spun. He held it in a reverse grip, the glinting Glimmerblade stabbing upwards like an awl.

It wasn't a clean strike. He pierced the protective Ganggi, but Thunder Cloud stepped on his forearm and vaulted over his head.

'My arm…'

It was numb, as Lightning Qi from the last blow had invaded it. He circulated his own energy, forcing the feeling back into the limb.

Estor switched the sword back to his right hand and whirled around.

Complex patterns were useless. They would be cut apart and consumed.

He needed to be faster and sharper. He needed every shallow entry to cut deep.

Kiiiing!

The light of the Glimmerblade flared.

'Soon.'

Estor felt it. The end of this tightrope walk was coming. He saw Thunder Cloud land nearby, clenching his fists.

‘Planning to charge in? Come on, then.'

This time, Estor invited it. He made a show of gripping his sword with both hands.

‘I will cut you down the moment you move.’

He had given up on intricate changes, betting on his raw speed.

The instant Thunder Cloud's figure blurred, the distance between them vanished.

Estor swung.

It was a single, perfect cut he had practised thousands, tens of thousands of times. He was certain that of all the swings he had ever made, this was the fastest.

'It connected!'

The moment that thought solidified, Thunder Cloud’s body erupted into a bolt of lightning and something scattered in the air.

"Ah..."

The sound slipped from Estor’s lips.

"Fuuuck."

A cheap curse escaped the heir to the Orsia family, the martial leader of the Cartel’s Pride.

He really couldn't help it.

He believed he had swung well, then heard something go thwack and sprayed apart. For a second he thought he had taken his head off.

It was a misunderstanding.

What scattered was Thunder Cloud’s long hair. Estor’s sword had cut through his protective Ganggi and trimmed the ends, but it had not touched flesh and blood.

The moment he’d thought it connected, he’d lost track of his opponent’s movements.

When he found him again, it was already over.

Thunder Cloud’s fist was stopped an inch from his face. Had he not stopped it…

"Yuri."

Estor’s face crumpled into a frown. He didn't use the man's title.

Yuri, his fist still extended, stared blankly at Estor for a moment, then nodded.

"What is it, Estor."

Yuri used his name too.

"My sword is cool, isn't it?"

It was a bizarre question. Yuri couldn't grasp the intent behind it, but he answered honestly.

"Very cool."

"It's called the Glimmerblade. I spent a month learning it just to beat you."

"The name is cool too."

"What was that thing you just did called?"

"Purple Lightning Flash."

"What is that? A form from your Ganggi arts?"

"I took an idea I got from magic and applied it to martial arts."

It was a combat application of the 3rd spell formula from the Heinderga magical system, the Piercing Flash of Lightning.

"You didn't use that in the underground."

"You didn't use the Glimmerblade either," Yuri countered.

"I couldn't back then," Estor grumbled, then pulled his head back.

“You were doing something strange in the middle of the fight. Did you learn that from Master Fist King?"

"Yes."

"I doubt Master Fist King thinks he taught you anything."

"He said he would teach me a thing or two."

Yuri glanced back at the Fist King for confirmation.

The man, who had been standing outside the barrier with his mouth hanging open, suddenly burst into a hearty laugh and nodded.

"Why did I lose?" Estor asked, his face sullen.

"You abandoned the versatility of your sword and tried to settle it with a single, simple strike."

"I think I would have lost even if I hadn't."

"You wouldn't have lost like that. If you'd focused on changing your attack patterns, I couldn't have used the Purple Lightning Flash."

"I went for a single strike because you kept cutting off my options."

"I was hoping you would."

"So you guided me into it?"

The statement needed no answer. Yuri withdrew his fist and shrugged.

"Fuck," Estor swore again.

He had expected to lose and knew that before the spar even began. He pondered a strange emotion he suddenly felt, then grumbled a simple summary.

"You fight like a dog."

"Thank you."

The words were out of Yuri's mouth before he could think.

There was a fine line between an insult and a curse, but to Yuri, that was high praise.

"What are you thanking me for?" Estor asked, confused.

"It's the first time I've used the Fist King's teachings in a real fight. Because you were such an excellent opponent, Estor, I was able to become stronger."

He couldn't very well tell him the real reason for his thanks, so he offered another.

Estor's face flushed red.

Yuri, the victor, was treating him with respect, and he was ashamed of himself for his petty reply, for being swayed by the sting of defeat.

"I am sorry."

"What are you sorry for now?"

"For not accepting my defeat gracefully. My reply was shameful and an insult to you."

Estor took a few steps back and bowed his head deeply.

"Yuri. I did not gain the upper hand against you, not even for a moment. Your movements were that admirable."

He lifted his head, and his eyes were blazing with a new fire.

"But today's defeat is not my end. Because I, Estor Orsia, am growing stronger with every passing moment."

"Um… right. I look forward to your growth, too."

Yuri nodded, trying to match the solemn mood.

Estor seemed satisfied with the reply. He whirled around, his eyes, now full of expectation, scanning the onlookers.

The Sword Emperor, Fist King and Wind Calamity were all people with more than enough authority to bestow the title of Dragon.

"I," Estor declared, his voice ringing through the training hall, "believe that Yuri, known as Thunder Cloud, is a man worthy of the title 'Dragon'! Who among you will grant it to him?"

'Couldn't they do this sort of thing when I'm not here?'

It was so embarrassing just standing there.

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