Transmigrated into Eroge as the Simp, but I Refuse This Fate

Chapter 305: Friend ?

The car hummed low beneath them, its interior silent save for the soft glide of tires over stonework and the faint sound of filtered mana circulating through the engine core.

Damien sat in the passenger seat, posture relaxed but gaze focused out the window. Trees passed in long, blurred shadows—row after row of ancient-growth forest lining the route toward the teleportation gate. The estate grounds were vast. It would take another ten minutes just to reach the outer gate.

Dominic sat beside Damien, arms crossed loosely, eyes set forward with that same implacable calm. Two guards were seated further up in the cabin—one driving, the other silent, eyes always watching the rearview. The car was being handled manually, not through autopilot. A small detail, but deliberate. In transit like this, Dominic never left control to automation.

They were heading south through the heart of the Elford estate, toward the privately operated teleportation gate nestled within the ridge zone. The city beyond—Varathis—lay a continent away, but with direct-point transfer, they’d be there in seconds.

Damien glanced toward his father.

“So,” he asked mildly, “why Varathis?”

Dominic didn’t shift his gaze.

“To meet with an old friend.”

Damien raised one brow. “A friend.”

Dominic didn’t elaborate.

Which meant one thing—he wasn’t going to. Not yet. Whatever this meeting was, it was part of something larger. Probably logistical. Possibly spiritual. Maybe political. But definitely necessary, if Dominic was invoking that tone.

Damien leaned back into his seat, letting the silence stretch. He didn’t push it.

If it mattered, he’d be told. If not—he’d find out soon enough anyway.

Within minutes, the car began its final descent into the teleportation vault—a reinforced subterranean structure carved beneath one of the estate’s older courtyards. Massive stone pylons circled the core platform, each engraved with shifting runes. Guards stood at full alert, though they didn’t move as the car arrived.

Dominic stepped out first. Damien followed.

The guards snapped a sharp salute—not to Damien, but to Dominic. And then they parted as the two walked forward together, crossing onto the central disk.

The air buzzed. Static. Old power.

The teleportation gate was proprietary—an Elford-kept relic from the old world. Mana-dense, personally calibrated, unlinked to the public network. No records. No logs.

Dominic paused just before stepping into the core of the teleportation array. His gaze flicked sideways, landing on Damien with something that looked suspiciously like dry amusement.

“You ready?”

Damien glanced at him, brow arching slightly. “For the gate?”

Dominic nodded once. “It’s been a while since you’ve used one. And if I remember right…” he let the words hang, just enough space for a memory to crawl in, “…last time, you nearly passed out.”

Damien let out a low chuckle, the sound sharp and a little rough from lack of sleep. “Aha… seriously?”

He turned to face his father fully now, the corner of his mouth twitching up in the closest thing to amusement he’d shown all morning. “You’re telling me you spent the entire night subjecting me to every Awakening method that has at least a 30% fatality risk… and now you’re concerned about my tolerance to teleportation nausea?”

Dominic cleared his throat once. “It’s different.”

Damien tilted his head. “Is it?”

Dominic didn’t answer immediately. He looked ahead at the pulsing gate, the slow churn of white-gold energy rolling through the etched lines of the platform. Then he gave a soft grunt.

“Ahem.”

Damien raised a brow. “Are you trying not to admit you overplayed that memory?”

Dominic gave him a dry side-glance. “Get in the gate before I reconsider letting you go at all.”

Damien grinned as he stepped forward, unbothered. “Yes, sir.”

Together, they moved into the center of the array. The runes sparked once—then surged. Light coiled upward around them like mist dragged into orbit, and then—

They vanished.

*****

The world snapped back into place with a pressure-pop that dragged at Damien’s ribs and ears.

And then—

His boots hit the ground with a heavy slap, and the moment the mana current cleared from his lungs, Damien bent forward and threw up.

The ground beneath them was smooth stone—wet, slick, darkened by the steady drizzle falling from a sky of broken, slow-churning clouds. The air here was thicker. Colder. The scent of iron and ozone clung to everything.

Dominic barely reacted. He stepped forward once, gave Damien a solid, bracing pat on the shoulder.

“First jump after a long while,” he said mildly. “Give it a minute.”

Damien wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, exhaling through gritted teeth. But the nausea was already fading. The mana here was denser, but somehow cleaner. It calmed fast.

“I’m fine,” he muttered, straightening.

The teleportation platform they stood on was built into a raised terrace surrounded by high walls and armored watchtowers. A military zone—not too dressed up, but clearly secure. Beyond the gate’s frame, the city of Varathis loomed distant, its skyline jagged with spires, cranes, and reinforced architecture designed to survive both siege and storm.

And then—

“Yo.”

The voice came casually, cutting through the rain like it belonged.

Damien turned.

A tall man in a dark coat stood at the edge of the terrace, hands in his pockets, hair tied back loosely. His expression was amused, but sharp beneath it.

Dominic stepped forward to meet him. “You’re late.”

The man snorted. “I’m five seconds early. You just expect everyone to show up yesterday.”

They clasped forearms—firm, familiar.

Dominic looked back over his shoulder.

“Damien,” he said. “Meet my old friend.”

The man’s gaze didn’t waver. He scanned Damien from top to bottom—posture, eyes, core tension. Not a casual glance. An assessment.

“So you’re the renowned Damien Elford,” Kael said after a beat.

Damien blinked once. “Renowned?”

Kael grinned. “Renowned as a damn Waste.”

The air twitched with tension—but not from Dominic. He stood silent, arms crossed, watching with the stillness of someone who knew this was part of the ritual.

Damien’s brow arched, just slightly. But his voice didn’t flinch.

“If that’s what you know me as,” he said coolly, “then you’re pretty damn late.”

Kael’s eyes narrowed—not in anger, but precision. Like a blade adjusting before a strike.

Without warning, the atmosphere shifted. Not violently. Not like Dominic’s release from the night before. This was different. Tighter. Focused. As if the space around Kael compressed—just enough to remind the world he was dangerous.

Damien felt it, instantly.

The way the air thinned. The way his breath caught at the top of his lungs before he forced it back down. A subtle, slicing pressure—like standing too close to a wild animal with its mouth slightly open.

But he didn’t move.

Didn’t blink. Didn’t falter.

Just stared back, chin level, blue eyes cool as frost under fire.

Kael held the pressure.

One second. Two.

Then eased it off with a small exhale.

“Not bad,” he said finally, nodding. “You didn’t flinch.”

“I said already,” Dominic cut in from behind, voice dry, “he’s changed.”

Kael glanced sideways. “I could see that much.”

He looked back at Damien, something more analytical in his gaze now.

“But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. You’ve got presence, sure. Willpower. And that’ll carry you further than talent on most paths.”

Kael stepped in closer, until he was just a breath out of striking range.

“But the Cradle? The Cradle eats boys who think they’ve already arrived.”

Damien didn’t respond at first. His expression didn’t shift.

Then—

“Good thing I’m not just a boy,” he said evenly.

Kael chuckled once, low and dry.

“Guess we’ll find out.” He turned slightly, gesturing for them to follow. “Come on. The chamber’s waiting. We’re almost out of prep time.”

The rain fell harder now, a steady patter against stone and steel. But as they walked, Damien realized he wasn’t cold anymore.

He was burning. Quietly. Inwardly.

And he welcomed it.