Trait Hoarder – Chapter 100

Labyrinth City — Part 2

After a prolonged argument, I finally managed to get inside.

If I had come here alone, I probably would’ve been sent away without so much as a conversation.

The only reason I got in smoothly was entirely thanks to the madam.

“Hjordis…”

The basement.

A coffin-like containment surrounded by layer upon layer of magic circles.

Inside lay a woman.

Her skin was a translucent, bluish-white, making her muscles, veins, and nerves starkly visible.

Even now, a strange black radiance slithered through her nervous and circulatory systems like a snake.

She was undergoing a live transformation.

Into one of Demon God Kymaris’ servants.

But the transformation wasn’t the end.

The ultimate result of a Stigma was far worse: the victim would dissolve into a mass of pure mana, neither human, demon, nor a mutated hybrid.

Not even ashes would remain.

Sigmund spoke with an expression of utter emptiness.

“The archbishop told us not to enter here unless absolutely necessary. It’s the only way to keep the seal intact for as long as possible.”

“This time, there will be good results.”

“I hope so. But if this turns out to be another scam like the last time, I don’t know what I’ll do.”

His eyes sparked with lightning.

A classic Nord man.

It was fascinating how someone so deeply family-oriented could so quickly transform into a berserker or a Viking when enraged.

I took a few steps toward Hjordis, careful not to step on the magic circle.

But I carried myself with confidence.

“Let me make one thing clear first.”

The mana coursing through her circuits.

I inspected the occasional magical symbols flickering to the surface and spoke.

“A Stigma isn’t something you cure or purify. You overcome it.”

“Now that I think about it, that’s what you said earlier. Is there a difference?”

“Yes. Consider Divine Fever—it’s something you overcome, not purify. You must have heard that before.”

“Well, yes, but…”

Both the madam and Sigmund looked at me in confusion.

It was only natural—they weren’t expecting me to bring up Divine Fever out of the blue.

The reason I mentioned Divine Fever was simple.

A Stigma, at its core, is essentially the same thing.

Divine Fever is caused by a god’s power being infused into a person, stimulating their nervous system and forcibly inducting them into the faith.

A Stigma is a leftover divine presence that mutates the body after a demonic attack.

When you look at it broadly, they’re fundamentally similar.

The difference lies in whether or not it can be controlled.

No one—neither mortals nor the Demon Gods who left these Stigmas behind—can control them.

After all, a Stigma is the result of a fallen, deranged being that has completely lost its sanity.

“Do you know how to overcome Divine Fever?”

“In theory, I’ve heard it can be overcome by either awakening as a superhuman or leveling up.”

“A Stigma can’t be overcome through those methods. The archbishop must’ve told you something similar. I heard there have been attempts in the past—feeding the victim Nectar, conducting large-scale rituals to infuse Thor’s divine power—none of it worked.”

“That’s true. The archbishop said as much. Those methods failed.”

“That’s because, despite their similarities, Divine Fever and Stigmas are fundamentally different.”

They’re similar but not the same.

Divine Fever must be something that can be overcome.

If not, it would directly violate the terms of the Westphalian Covenant of Divine Annihilation.

After all, the gods accepted the covenant and vowed on their very existence to uphold it.

While loopholes and workarounds were possible, outright rejection of the covenant was not.

“If Divine Fever is a trial, then a Stigma is an evolution.”

“An evolution?”

“Yes. It’s not an exaggeration to call it an ascension. Similar to how Thor or Gaia might artificially raise a favored human hero to the rank of angel, or how a Level 9 Celestial ascends to Level 10 and becomes a god.”

“…You make it sound like a Stigma is a good thing.”

“It was a good thing. If the gods hadn’t fallen and turned into Demon Gods, that is. Now, instead of ascending into a spiritual being, the process is twisted and corrupted, turning the victim into pure mana and ultimately killing them.”

“Hmm… I feel like I’ve heard something like that before.”

Now came the important part.

I raised my right hand.

Mana flared out, radiating in a dazzling display, but I suddenly clenched my fist and extinguished the light.

“Therefore, it’s necessary to degrade and weaken this power, forcing it to descend to this physical world.”

“Forcing it to descend to the physical world?”

“Yes. From a magical perspective, it’s akin to a fall to a lower dimension. From our perspective, it’s about stabilizing it in the material realm.”

“Stabilizing it in the material realm…”

Sigmund’s eyes began to glimmer.

He was starting to think it made sense.

I let out a small sigh internally.

‘Ugh, this is exhausting to explain.’

If only it were as simple as making a potion and feeding it to her.

But because this process required a ritual that bordered on a curse, it took this much effort to explain.

If I’d started by describing the ritual itself, they’d have thought I was here to curse her, not help her.

“The ritual method is… somewhat unusual. It’s closer to a curse than a blessing or a treatment.”

“A curse?”

“What exactly does the ritual entail?”

“First, you’ll need to draw an inverted pentagram using demon blood. It doesn’t matter if it’s from a low-rank or the weakest demon. Next, place candles at the pentagram’s points, made from the hair of an Abyssal creature, and light them with dark-elemental flames. Position the victim at the center of the pentagram, ensuring they don’t overlap with the lines. Then, sprinkle finely ground Worldsteel over the victim and prepare a Resurrection Elixir using Kymaris’ blood as the main ingredient. Once the ritual begins, the victim will begin transforming into a demon. At the final moment, drive an incorporeal demon-slaying stake into their heart, and the process will be complete.”

Demon blood, Abyssal creature hair, dark-element flames.

And a Resurrection Elixir made with the blood of a Demon God?

It was practically a ritual to invite someone to become a full demon.

Sigmund twisted his lips in doubt.

“Are you serious? Are you saying such a ritual is truly necessary?”

“Absolutely. Let me be clear—if we follow this process, your wife will surely recover.”

“Hah… Borghild, is this really the right thing to do?”

“He’s telling the truth. My eyes can see the truth, and he’s genuine.”

“Hah…”

Sigmund shook his head with a mixture of disbelief and hesitation.

“I can’t just go ahead with this blindly. I’ll need to consult others first.”

“Go ahead. If possible, you could even try infecting a test animal with the Stigma for experimentation. I’ll be waiting.”

“Alright. You seem confident, don’t you? First, I’ll verify your claims.”

It looked like I’d have to wait a few days.

Perhaps even a few weeks.

That’s fine.

Labyrinth City is practically a haven for high-level superhumans.

Since I’m here, I might as well stay for a month, learn a few new traits, and make the most of my time.

I was just about to wrap things up and leave when—

Doom!

The sound of a drum echoed.

Doom-doom!

Not just once, but multiple times.

It was a low, eerie sound, like a heartbeat pounding deep within. It resonated not through the air or the eardrums, but directly into the brain, shaking me to the core.

Could it be…

I swallowed hard and turned to look at the white coffin.

DOOM!

The woman inside was emitting light.

A grim, murky black light radiated from her, starting at her heart and spreading throughout her body.

It pulsated like a dark drumbeat, warping the world around it and twisting her very soul.

Profoundly wicked yet eerily noble, the light surged outward, shaking the room with a deep, resonating cadence.

Doom! Doom! DOOM!

The dark pulsations were intensifying.

The meaning was clear.

Sigmund and the madam’s faces turned pale as ash.

“H-Hjordis!”

“N-No, it can’t be!”

The Stigma was reaching its final stage.

Within an hour, the Stigma would consume her body and soul, leaving nothing behind but a meaningless dispersion of mana.

Verification of the ritual?

There was no time for that.

Every second counted.

“Madam! Get demon blood, Abyssal creature hair candles, Worldsteel powder, and an incorporeal demon-slaying stake. Quickly!”

“Y-Yes! Right away!”

“Sigmund, you need to get Kymaris’ blood.”

“H-How am I supposed to…?”

“If you don’t get it within ten minutes, your wife will die.”

Using Kymaris’ blood wasn’t as simple as just obtaining it.

It had to be used as the main ingredient to craft a Resurrection Elixir.

Sigmund gulped, his Adam’s apple bobbing nervously. His eyes darted around in panic, clearly trying to figure out where he could possibly find Kymaris’ blood.

I, on the other hand, got to work.

Extending my hands forward, I unleashed my mana.

[Einherjar Cultivation Technique][Mana Soul][Focus]
[Mana Amplification][Mana Concentration][Mana Stabilization]

An overwhelming torrent of mana erupted from me.

Even if I had claimed to be a mage instead of a Level 4 Warrior, they would have believed me.

The mana was perfectly controlled, as sharp as a blade, and seamlessly integrated into the magic circle. It wasn’t just entering the circle—it was adapting to it, as if my mana had always been meant for it.

The magic circle flared with light, sparking like a bolt of lightning.

It worked.

A powerful divine force rose up, suppressing Hjordis.

The black light spreading across her skin noticeably dimmed.

It was a level of suppression that would have required multiple priests from the Thor Cult injecting their divine power to even come close.

“This mana…”

Sigmund looked at me, a flicker of realization in his eyes.

“We don’t have time. Hurry!”

“Yes, yes!”

Sigmund and the madam bolted from the room, practically tripping over themselves.

I remained calm, keeping my eyes fixed on the woman in the white coffin.

Could they make it back in time?

The elixir had to be crafted as well.

I could extend the time from one hour to two, but no longer than that.

‘Two hours…’

All I could do was hope Sigmund and the madam didn’t mess up.

“Hjordis! Hjordis! I’m here! Just hold on a little longer!”

“Grimhild! Hurry, get over here!”

“I’m coming!”

Had they called for reinforcements on their way out?

A group of superhumans burst into the room, nearly tearing the door off its hinges.

All of them were at least Level 5 superhumans.

Among them, a radiant woman with shining silver hair strode toward me quickly.

She hesitated for a moment when she saw me pouring mana into the magic circle, but then she nodded in acknowledgment.

“I’ll take it from here. You’re not a priest, are you? A mage, perhaps? Your mana is remarkably pure and powerful.”

“Thank you.”

The woman spread her arms wide.

Lightning-like divine power rained down on the magic circle like a bombardment.

The magic circle reacted even more intensely than it had with my mana, flaring violently in response.

Of course it did—she was a Level 5 Priest-class superhuman, likely a member of the Thor Cult judging by the nature of her divine power.

“Where should I put this?”

A towering giant, nearly 250 centimeters tall, approached me with an alchemy station slung over one shoulder.

Wait, was that an entire alchemy setup? A few basic tools would’ve sufficed!

I pointed to a corner of the basement.

“Over there. And as for the materials…”

“Demon blood! The demon blood is here! What do I need to draw with it?”

A small, wiry man barely 120 centimeters tall dashed over, holding a magical tumbler filled with demon blood.

“Draw an inverted pentagram. Make it as large as possible so that she can fit inside.”

“Got it! Leave it to me!”

“Lokison! Hand that over to me and go fetch the other materials!”

“On it! I’m going!”

The materials started pouring in.

With people barging in almost every five seconds, my head was spinning.

I forced myself to stay focused and began crafting the Resurrection Elixir.

[Alchemy][Crafting][Modification]
[Sixth Sense][Insight][Focus]

I activated every trait that could help.

I started by refining the ingredients for the elixir and boiling water.

Adding regeneration herbs, healing fruits, and branches from the Tree of Healing produced a sweet, fragrant aroma.

Pouring in a high-grade healing potion completed the base formula.

Now, it was time to add the main ingredient.

“Kymaris’ blood, incoming!”

The dwarf-like man named Lokison zipped back in like the wind, handing me a tumbler.

I poured the black blood into the mixture.

Glurp.

The once golden, syrupy liquid immediately turned black and viscous.

A foul, acrid smoke rose from the pot, curling toward me menacingly.

I ignored the dwarf’s shout and calmly stood my ground, letting the noxious smoke wash over me.

Equipped with [Indomitable] and [Magic Resistance], I was completely unaffected.

With just [Contamination Resistance] and [Dark Resistance], one could endure this for a while, but with these high-tier traits equipped, I could withstand it for hours without issue.

“Wow… Mister, you’re definitely not normal.”

The dwarf marveled at me, staring in amazement.

I ignored him and focused on the elixir-making process.

Into the grotesque, hellish concoction, I added dark mint, musk from a night deer, and myrrh from the Shadow Dimension, one by one.

All three were aromatic agents.

As soon as they were added, they evaporated, releasing a scent so penetrating that it stabbed into the nasal passages like a blade.

“Ugh!”

“What’s that smell?!”

“Blegh!”

The fusion of the Demon God’s blood with the other ingredients created a bizarrely rancid and nauseating stench.

It wasn’t quite on the level of surströmming, but it was a smell that seemed to gnaw at your very soul, compelling you to flee from it immediately.

Finally, I proceeded with the last step.

[Black Flame].

The purest dark-element flame would’ve been ideal, but this was still more than sufficient.

I spread my palm and released the Black Flame.

The jet-black fire engulfed the bubbling liquid in the cauldron, reducing it drastically until only a small amount remained—barely the volume of a pinky finger.

A sticky, viscous liquid, as thick as tar.

In game terms, the elixir would have been labeled something like this:

[Kymaris’ Bloodstained Elixir]

It wasn’t a bad elixir, all things considered.

Drinking it would temporarily transform the user into a demon, granting immense power for a short time.

The problem was the side effects—intense berserker-like rage—but at least it didn’t result in death.

“Are we ready? Is everything prepared?”

“Yes! We can start right away!”

“Let’s begin, then.”

Sigmund and the madam had returned.

A few of the gathered superhumans used telekinesis to lift Hjordis and place her on the magic circle.

As soon as she left Thor’s suppression field, her body convulsed violently.

KA-WOONG!

She was nearly at her limit.

The black radiance shot upward, rippling through the air.

We had mere minutes left.

I urgently gestured toward Sigmund.

“Scatter the metal powder! Quickly!”

“Yes! Right away!”

Sigmund scattered the Worldsteel powder generously, as if building a mound of sand.

Meanwhile, the madam stood at the edge of the inverted pentagram, holding a bizarre-looking handgun.

“Shall I light it?”

“I’ll do it myself.”

The Black Flame, being the highest tier of dark-elemental fire, was perfect for the job.

With a simple flick of my finger, the jet-black flames leapt forward, igniting the Abyssal hair candles at the five points of the pentagram.

The flames sent up formless smoke, and the air grew noticeably heavier.

The Worldsteel began reacting to the change.

It blackened, assimilating the Abyssal attributes. The demon blood infused into the circle began distorting the space within, transforming it into something unnatural—as if it no longer belonged to this dimension.

“I-Is this going to be okay?”

“Quiet!”

Someone voiced their concern, only to be quickly hushed by another.

Even the silver-haired priestess of the Thor Cult stood silently.

The die had already been cast.

There was no turning back now.

I calmly observed the changes in the space.

Only after the demon blood had fully transformed and the area was completely saturated with Abyssal energy did I make my move.

I fed the completed elixir to the woman lying in the circle.

DOOM!

The light flared violently, pulsating with intensity.

At the peak of the pulsation, the woman began transforming into a demon instead of evaporating.

Her skin turned pitch black.

Her hair vanished in an instant.

Horns sprouted from her head, and massive demon wings unfurled dramatically.

Now!

This was the moment I had been waiting for.

I drove the incorporeal demon-slaying stake directly into her heart.

“Guhh!”

The woman’s body convulsed once, violently.

And then, it was over.

The mutated form she had been transforming into reverted instantly, restoring her original appearance.

She now lay as if in peaceful sleep, her eyes closed.

“H-Hjordis?”

Sigmund, trembling, moved forward.

He knelt in front of her, checking her breathing and her heartbeat.

“Ugh… huh?”

The woman’s eyes fluttered open naturally.

Clear, vivid blue eyes—free of corruption or emptiness—gazed directly at Sigmund.

“Honey? What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

She asked innocently, as if nothing had occurred.

“Darling!”

Sigmund cried out, his voice breaking as he burst into tears.

With a face overflowing with joy, he clung to his wife like a man reunited with a miracle.

–TL Notes–
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