Transmigrated As The Perverted Young Master



A while early.

"Huff!" "Huff!" "Huff!"

Sweat trickled down the man's face, joining with the wetness covering his entire body. He pulled back his hands, positioned them behind his head, and swung it down. The sword in his hands sliced the air before coming to a stop just inches away from the ground, a millisecond delay, and it would have carved the ground.

"How!" He swung it again. "Fucking!" Again. "Dare!" Again. "He?!"

The whole training looks like a madman skewering a poor fellow. Spit flew from his mouth. Blood leaked from his lips as he bit on them hard.

His eyes were menacing, defeated, and murderous. His mind was a storm waiting to devour something and everything. "How? How did he do it?" HE swung again his sword, slashing the air. The sound of wind echoed from the impact. "Why?" he muttered. "Why?! Why him? Why me? Why..."

He screamed as he swung his sword with all his might, sending a flurry of strikes against the air.

News of Damien Von Zadkiel defeating a Judicial knight, and almost defeating the Inquisitor Viper, had spread throughout the entire city. Not only that, the Grandmaster invited- not the useless begging, but the grandmaster himself asked him to be his apprentice.

He swung it again and again and again..."AAARGGHHHH." With a soul-screaming shout, he brought down the sword to the ground. Sparkles of light erupted from the ground as the sword's blade hit the ground, and then a web of cracks emerged from the point of contact. It elongated and elongated until it spread through the marbled walls.

He slumped, keeping the sword as a stand. "Huff...Huff..." 'I can't give up! I'm better than him! He is weak. I'm the chosen one! I'm the HERO!' His heart screamed.

But, deep inside his heart, a seed of doubt sprouted. A tiny voice that said, 'You're not even half of him.' The seed grew bigger and bigger with each passing second.

Black tentacles suddenly emerged from behind him, growing and growing with the intensifying of hate and animosity inside him. The tentacles called 'Night Crawler,' Calen's own special power has now evolved to a whole new level. The ends of the tentacles were now sharp blades, that can cut a building like a paper, sharpened by his anger.

"I'll kill him one day," he growled. "I'll definitely kill him."

In the midst of his hate growling, the alarm of the training halls suddenly blared off. It was loud enough that Calen had to cover his ears as the tentacles extended and shot like a bullet and destroyed the howling device in the room.

The sound subsided but the alarm never ceaced, but it was bearable. He breathed in relief and relaxed his tense body. "What is going on...?"

He stood up and dressed up, wiping off his sweat with a towel. He picked up his sword and exited the training hall, his mind still clouded with anger and frustration.

As he walked down the corridor, he noticed the panicked faces of other knights and soldiers rushing past him, their armor clanking loudly.

"What the fuck is happening?" Calen muttered to himself, his brow furrowed in confusion. The air was thick with tension, and an eerie silence hung over the once bustling halls.

As he made his way towards the main entrance, the sounds of distant explosions reached his ears, accompanied by the cries of terror and the clash of steel. His heart pounded in his chest, the adrenaline coursing through his veins.

He burst through the doors and was met with a scene of chaos. The city was under attack, its once proud streets were now filled with destruction and carnage. Buildings were ablaze, their flames licking at the night sky. The enemy, armored soldiers with glowing eyes, moved with a mechanical precision, cutting down anything and anyone in their path.

His pupils quivered. 'Celeste?'

He grabbed a civilian who was running away and pushed him against the wall. "What is going on?" He demanded.

The civilian struggled against the hero and screamed. "Let go," he shouted. "Let go of me. I have a wife and a daughter. Please let me go..." he begged, tears streaming down his face.

Calen felt a pang of guilt wash over him as he released his grip. "Hey, hey...calm down." He said, straightening the man's collar which he crumbled. "Just tell me what is going on?"

The scared man paused and looked at him for a moment, calming him down. "I-I don't know what happened. There was this huge explosion and fire was everywhere. On the building, on the grass, and on people...like-like they were burning alive. Th-then they arrived, in armor with blue blazing eyes." He stammered while recollecting the events. "I-I'm telling you, they are not humans. Not humans at all. They are evil. They are pure evil coming here to defile this holy land. Demons, that's what they are." Then he ran away, without giving Calen a last look.

The man was a lost cause, Calen understood that. Whatever it is there, it must have scared the shit out of him.

Calen watched as the man disappeared into the chaos of the city, his words lingering in the air. The image of burning buildings and people consumed by flames haunted his mind. He clenched his fists, the weight of the situation pressing down on him.

"Demons," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. The realization hit him hard. This was no ordinary attack. These armored soldiers with their glowing eyes were something far more sinister. His heart filled with a mixture of anger, fear, and determination.

He glanced around, taking in the desperate cries for help, the terrified faces of innocent civilians running for their lives. Deep down, he knew he couldn't stand idly by. He had to do something.

So he ran. He needs to find his sister above all. The civilians are of no concern to him and he will save them once he made sure his sister is safe.