Transmigrated As The Perverted Young Master



"Whoa, so cool!" The sound of admiration rippled through the hushed crowd like a gentle breeze, briefly breaking the tense aura that had enveloped the room.

"Are they weak? Are they weak?" The curious query sprang from the lips of another child, this time a young elven girl with enchanting blue eyes that sparkled with innocent wonder.

Damien tilted his head slightly, adopting a contemplative expression. "Hmmm... are they weak?" He pondered her question for a fleeting moment, his features transforming into a thoughtful mask. And then, as if struck by a brilliant idea, his face brightened with a contagious enthusiasm. "Of course not! They are incredibly strong, no doubt about that. But fear not, my young friends, for I am stronger than all of them combined. I could crush them with my bare hands," he declared, patting his biceps in a mock display of strength.

"Whoa, so so cool!" The elven child's excitement was palpable as she bounced on her feet, her eyes wide with a mixture of awe and admiration.

"I wish I could be as strong," sighed another boy wistfully, his gaze fixed on Damien as if yearning for a taste of that seemingly boundless strength.

"You can. But not now. When you all grow up, just like me. When you train hard to become strong, you can attain this kind of power," Damien replied, his voice infused with a mixture of encouragement and warmth that resonated with the young hearts gathered around him.

The response was met with a chorus of cheers and enthusiastic fist pumps, their youthful spirits ignited by his words.

As moments passed, the atmosphere within the church underwent a palpable transformation. The tension that had once enveloped the room was replaced by a sense of ease and camaraderie. Some of the survivors even mustered the courage to step closer to Damien, their initial wariness giving way to curiosity and admiration.

All eyes were fixed on him, a mixture of curiosity and admiration gleaming in their gazes. In those fleeting moments, a connection seemed to be forming, bridging the gap between the stranger from beyond their walls and the frightened souls seeking refuge within them.

After a while, the priest approached Damien, a weary but appreciative smile on his face. "If you would, please follow me. The potions are stored in my personal office," he said, gesturing for Damien to join him. The middle-aged woman, a determined look in her eyes, accompanied them, her presence a testament to her newfound trust.

...

"My lord...the entire city?" the priest gasped, his disbelief evident upon hearing the devastating news. "How could this happen? Even with all the powerful individuals, even with the Grandmaster himself... This is beyond grim. How can we even begin to overcome such a catastrophe?" His expression betrayed a profound sense of defeat, his fingers instinctively tangling in his already disheveled white hair.

"Calm yourself, priest," the woman interjected, her voice a soothing counterpoint to the priest's distress. She settled herself opposite the priest and Damien, her eyes meeting the young man's gaze with a mixture of resolve and hope. "They may not be able to breach the church's walls, indicating that there is something here they fear. Isn't that a promising sign?" Her words were a plea for the priest to find solace in this small glimmer of hope.

Damien nodded in agreement. "Indeed, there's reason to believe they are already taking action. A formidable shield has been raised around the Judicial building, and it's expanding to safeguard the innocent and repel the undead. If there are survivors out there, they should make their way to the shielded area."

"But what about those who haven't yet reached the shield?" the woman inquired, her concern etched across her features.

"I don't have the answer to that," Damien admitted, a touch of regret in his voice. He understood the gravity of the situation but acknowledged the limitations of his knowledge.

A heavy silence settled over the trio as they each grappled with the weight of the unfolding crisis. The priest wrestled with his shock, the woman contemplated potential strategies, and Damien confronted the uncertainty of the unknown, their collective thoughts echoing within the hushed confines of the church.

"And there's another matter of grave concern," he began, his voice dropping to a hushed tone. "Something that, if known, could shatter the fragile stability within these walls."

"What more could possibly shatter these poor souls?" the priest responded wearily. "They've already endured unimaginable losses—their loved ones, their homes, their livelihoods. This sanctuary is all that remains for them."

"Yet, it is this very sanctuary that could be at risk..." Damien's words were barely audible, his voice laden with a sense of caution as if he feared his utterances could trigger catastrophe.

Both the woman and the priest regarded him with a mixture of curiosity and trepidation, as though he carried the weight of impending disaster in his words.

"What dire revelation do you bring?" the priest inquired, his expression a mirror of the unease that had now settled in the room.

Damien's gaze steadied on them, his voice unwavering. "Have you ever pondered the origin of this...unprecedented undead outbreak?"

"I-I..."

"We don't know." The woman interjected.

Drawing a deep breath, Damien finally disclosed the unsettling truth. "A necromancer has taken root within the city. This sinister force is reanimating the deceased, twisting them into the very undead that now besiege us."

A heavy silence enveloped the room, the weight of this revelation sinking in. The priest's brows furrowed, his features contorted in a mix of shock and disbelief. The woman's eyes widened as realization dawned, and an air of grim understanding settled over them all. The threat they faced was far more insidious and orchestrated than they had previously comprehended.

"Necro...necromancer!" the priest exclaimed, his voice quivering with shock. "Centuries have passed since the scourge of those unholy beings was thought to be eradicated from this realm. How can a necromancer wield their dark arts in our time?"

"I admit, I lack the answers," Damien responded, his voice tinged with a touch of uncertainty. "But the presence of these risen abominations indicates the influence of a necromancer. Their malevolent power is undeniable."

The woman's brow furrowed in deep contemplation. "But how does this necromancer's actions threaten our haven? How can this truth shatter the foundation of our sanctuary?"

The priest's expression hardened, his finger pointing accusingly at the woman. "Ignorance blinds you! The necromancer's dark presence defiles the sanctity of this holy place. Our sacred rituals and divine protection stand at odds with the malevolent forces he commands. It's an affront to everything we hold dear."

"I...don't think that is the reason he is apprehensive, priest," the woman interjected, her voice carrying a note of skepticism. Her gaze shifted back to Damien, her expression contemplative and inquisitive.

Damien's lips curled into a faint smile at her insight. "Yes, that is true," he conceded, his demeanor displaying a composed determination. He took a measured pause, allowing the weight of their situation to settle around them before he continued. "Consider this, where would a necromancer first set foot if he were to infiltrate this city?"

A scoff escaped the priest, his voice edged with offense. "How would I know what that creature of night and unholiness thinks? I'm a holy priest, sworn to the divine arts. Our paths and purposes are nothing alike."

Damien's response was calm, his eyes steady as he met the priest's defensive gaze. "I do not question your devotion, priest, but wisdom often extends beyond our immediate roles. The answer lies not in thinking like a necromancer, but in understanding their objectives."

But the woman, unburdened by the constraints of priestly devotion, possessed a sharp and probing intellect. Damien allowed a silent pause, his steady gaze fixed on her, as he anticipated her thoughts to take form.

Within a heartbeat, the woman's visage transformed from contemplation to one of stark realization, her eyes widening with a mix of dread and comprehension. "You don't mean..."

Damien's response was a subtle, confirming nod, a signal that he was indeed alluding to what she had just grasped.

The woman's composure wavered, her initial grasp of the situation now morphing into a deeper, chilling understanding. "Holy shit!!!" Her outburst was an exclamation of both terror and urgency, punctuating the gravity of their conversation. The force of her words seemed to jolt her physically, causing her to nearly leap from her seat in a display of unfiltered astonishment.

"Such crude words! You'll break this old man's eardrum! What is the matter?" The priest asked, cuffing his ears, his expression a blend of concern and irritation.

"We could've easily died. We were this close and we still are!" The woman gasped, her voice quivering with a mix of fear and incredulity. Her words hung heavy in the tense air, their implications hitting like a cold gust of wind.

"What is it?" The priest demanded, his brows furrowed. "Why are you shouting, woman?"

"Don't you get it, old man?" She retorted, her voice edged with exasperation. "The necromancer was just fifty meters away from us. He's in the cemetery!" Her declaration was a bolt of realization, casting a new shadow over their already dire circumstances.