Transmigration: I Made A Deal With A Man in Yellow

I smiled bitterly before the frost-coated blade of her scythe appeared inches from my face.

The hairs on my body stood on end again as I felt death right beside me.

Just before my face was sliced in half, a black tentacle shot out from the wall, wrapped around me, and pulled me away, saving me.

Sister Friede swiftly changed the direction of her scythe and slashed at me again.

I swung my scythe forward, and both weapons collided, producing a metallic hum throughout the church.

Sister Friede blurred left and right as my eyes struggled to keep up with her.

She attacked from the right, so I spun my scythe horizontally and blocked her strike.

Instead of retreating into defense, I used the momentum to throw a hooking attack toward her waist, but I failed because she jumped upward and avoided my scythe.

However, I wasn’t done.

Mana coiled through my legs before I burst forward. While she was still in midair, I swung my scythe at her, thinking she wouldn’t be able to block while suspended above the ground.

But I was wrong.

Instead of dodging, she landed directly on the shaft of my scythe and stood on it with both feet, wearing the same calm expression.

For some reason, I felt offended.

I manipulated my scythe, causing a spike to protrude from it, but before it could pierce her feet, she was already gone and landed silently on the ground.

My scythe was already moving again, slashing toward her waist with the intention of cutting her in half.

Sister Friede ducked and avoided the attack.

While crouched, mana wrapped around her body before she burst forward with sudden acceleration.

I watched as her scythe tore through the air toward my neck.

Her movements were too fast, so I couldn’t afford to hold back.

An intense amount of mana surged through my body.

I felt my muscles tense as they were infused with power.

When her scythe was inches from cutting through my neck, I moved.

My figure blurred into a streak of black.

I moved counterclockwise and appeared beside her, my scythe already slashing toward her chest.

Sister Friede had been swinging at the place where I had just been, but with uncanny speed, she changed the trajectory of her attack and swung behind herself.

Our scythes collided again, producing sparks.

She blocked that?

She really was something else.

We stood motionless for a moment, the blades of our scythes rasping against each other.

Then we moved.

Both of our figures blurred, leaving streaks of black and white-blue.

Clang! Clang!

Our scythes collided again and again, their clashes producing a metallic symphony that was loud yet strangely soothing to the ears.

Each of us aimed for the other’s vital points.

Well, I mostly aimed at only one because an undead had only one true vital point, which was in their chest, but I didn’t refrain from trying to incapacitate her either.

Clang! Clang! Clang!

We clashed over and over again, and let me tell you something.

Fighting a human being was very different from fighting a beast or monster.

Sure, monsters gained intelligence as they grew stronger and stopped relying entirely on instinct, but a monster was still a monster.

Humans were cunning and intelligent.

Thanks to that, we were able to defeat monsters far larger and stronger than ourselves.

That was exactly what I was experiencing with Sister Friede.

She was nothing short of deadly.

She mixed feints with attacks and attacks with feints. She never repeated the same move and always came up with something new whenever I started getting used to one of her attacks.

So I was forced to constantly adapt, never allowing myself to grow accustomed to a single pattern and always expecting the unexpected.

And her scythe skills?

God, they were beautiful.

I could confidently say there was no one in this world who could wield a scythe the way she did.

She moved the weapon as though it were an extension of herself. She didn’t simply control it as a weapon but as part of her own will.

Every attack carried intent.

Each time I thought I had finally found an opening, I was punished with my flesh being torn apart by her scythe.

It was almost as though she intentionally left those openings there.

As the fight continued, I started becoming confused whenever I saw one.

Was it really an opening or not?

Sometimes my brain told me it was, and I got punished.

Sometimes it told me it wasn’t, and I still got punished.

My armor was now broken and tattered. Through the gaps, my cut and bleeding flesh was visible.

Dozens of deep slash marks covered the armor.

Thanks to [Calm Mind], I was able to ignore the pain and continue thinking rationally.

We darted across the church, never stopping our attacks.

The wooden seats were smashed into splinters, while the floor was covered in slash marks and small craters left in our wake.

Calling back to my perfect yet simple plan...

Ahem.

I was struggling with the first step.

I couldn’t get past her at all.

Whenever I tried to slip through her guard, she would quickly reposition herself directly in front of me and punch me in the face, which was not pleasant at all.

So yeah, it would definitely take a couple of revives before I managed to get past her.

A punch to my chest sent me flying and crashing into the rows of seats, breaking them into splinters.

Crash!

"Cough, cough!"

I coughed out a mouthful of blood onto the floor and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand.

I was getting my ass beat.

I tried to push myself up with the help of my scythe, but the back of a pale foot suddenly filled my vision.

Was she genuinely going to step on my face with her fee—

Twack!

My head snapped backward, and blood poured from my nose before I was sent flying into another row of wooden seats.

Crash.

I lay buried beneath the broken seats with a single complaint running through my head.

’Why did she step on my face with her feet?! That’s so gross!’

But I couldn’t lie.

Her toes were actually quite good-looking for a dead person.

I should’ve been worried about surviving, yet here I was worrying about a dead woman’s feet.

I pushed the broken wooden seats off me, and a sharp, freezing pain ran through my entire body.

I looked down at my wounds, where my flesh had turned purple from frostbite—an effect caused by Sister Friede’s frost.

It made every wound burn with freezing pain and lowered my body temperature below normal, increasing the chances of me dying from hypothermia.

On top of that, I was also cursed.

She was an undead, after all.

Black veins pulsed beneath my skin because of the curse, and I could feel myself growing weaker with every passing second.

This curse was stronger than the ones inflicted on me by the undead skeletons.

This one was far more powerful and vile.

It didn’t only slow me down but also drained my mana.

A curse that was nothing but a drag.

Sister Friede’s scythe blade rasped against the marble floor as she dragged it behind her and walked toward me.

"Can’t fight anymore?" Sister Friede asked calmly as she stopped in front of me.

I mustered what little strength I had left and lifted my chin to look at her.

Even that small movement hurt.

My entire body was covered in wounds, and the curse made every breath feel heavier than the last.

"Yeah..." I breathed out. "That curse of yours is such a pain."

"And yet, you haven’t complained even once."

Despite the blood running down my face, I managed a small smile.

"I’m not much of a screamer."

Sister Friede stared at me for a moment before resting the blade of her scythe against my shoulder.

The moment it touched me, frost began spreading across my clothes, its cold biting painfully into my skin.

"Will you revive again?" she asked.

Oh.

She thinks I’m going to come back again.

Well, considering she had killed me once and I had come back to life, I couldn’t exactly blame her for asking.

"Most likely," I replied between heavy breaths.

"Then I’ll see you again."

"Yea—"

Slash.

Splurt!

Thud.

I died again.

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