Trait Hoarder – Chapter 160

Thor Cultivation Technique — Part 2

Otherworlder!

My heart dropped with a loud thud.

Right.

I had considered this possibility.

Thor, or any other divine being, might see through my identity.

If a Level 8 could recognize my Trait Swap, how much more perceptive would someone at Level 9 or 10 be?

Even so, I couldn’t delay meeting Thor.

I needed to grow stronger.

Somehow, I had to obtain the Thor Cultivation Technique.

The only way to acquire it was to meet Thor directly.

I bit my lower lip gently.

“How did you know?”

“Hmm? I just knew. How else would I know? It’s all written on your face, you little human. So, how was the world you lived in? Am I still alive over there?”

Thor didn’t seem particularly interested in the fact that I was an otherworlder.

Instead, he was strangely curious about the Earth I came from.

I don’t have time for this…

The invincibility granted by Mistilteinn’s Regret had a short duration—just a few minutes at best.

Even obtaining the Thor Cultivation Technique would barely fit within that timeframe.

“Here!”

Thor, sensing my urgency, waved his hand.

Like magic, a golden tray appeared.

On the tray were heaps of pastries or perhaps bread.

The shapes were familiar—something between bread and cookies, adorned with colorful fruit chips and bits of cheese arranged like flower petals.

Ambrosia.

In the game, it was a rare breakthrough consumable, similar to Nectar.

But unlike Nectar, it could only be obtained through premium purchases.

Lore-wise, it was said to be even rarer than Nectar, as it couldn’t be made by humans and could only be crafted by gods.

“Eat while you talk. You can devour it all if you like.”

Seriously? I can really eat all of this?

If I emptied Thor’s pantry, wouldn’t I reach Level 7 today?

“Tsk tsk. I can see right through you, you little human. Eat all you want— or you’ll just evaporate in my presence. Do you think facing a god is a joke?”

Damn. There goes that plan.

“Thank you. I’ll enjoy this.”

If Nectar was the elixir of youth and immortality, Ambrosia was the elixir of invincibility.

It would provide ample protection during my limited invincibility time.

I brought a piece of Ambrosia to my lips.

The taste was explosively sweet and tangy.

As the flavor spread across my tongue, my entire body seemed to awaken, my senses and intuition blooming like flowers.

Unfortunately, that heightened sensation quickly faded, forming a barrier around me instead.

Because of Thor.

Even though he was suppressing his presence, the sheer force of his being—blazing like a living thunderbolt—had consumed the Ambrosia’s energy before it could fully benefit me.

If Thor weren’t here, it might have all become nourishment for me.

Still, it was a divine elixir provided by him, so I remained calm and began recounting my memories of my original world.

“In the place I lived, there were no gods.”

“What? No gods? Why not?”

“There were no gods, no demons, and no magic in that world.”

“What nonsense is that? Then how do your people farm? Don’t you use fertilizers? Wait—what about alcohol? How do you ferment it?”

“Uh, well…”

Do I really need to explain how nitrogen fertilizers are made?

And alcohol?

Wasn’t it just a matter of adding yeast and letting it ferment?

I racked my brain to piece together a rough explanation.

I wasn’t an expert, but I knew enough general concepts to satisfy Thor’s curiosity.

After listening for a while, Thor spoke again.

“What a strange world. It’s not a warrior’s world—it’s a world made for farmers.”

“That’s true.”

The irony was undeniable.

In my original world, Scandinavia was often called a welfare paradise.

Thor, too, was historically known as the protector of peasants and farmers.

Yet the Thor before me clearly embodied a figure who favored nobles and warriors.

Perhaps it was because he had inherited part of Odin’s divine authority.

Thor lifted a golden goblet and downed a generous amount of Nectar.

“Burp.”

He let out a loud belch, then leaned back into his chair, which was upholstered with Jormungandr’s hide.

Looking like a contented grizzly bear, he gestured toward me with his chin.

“I don’t fully understand, but it was an interesting story. Now then, you little human, you must have questions for me too. Go ahead and ask. Since I’ve been entertained, I’ll answer a few.”

Finally, the moment I’ve been waiting for.

“Thank you. Then, I’ll start with this—do you know who summoned me here?”

There was no way I was dragged into this world for no reason.

Getting summoned right after pulling an SSR Heavenly Demon? That didn’t make sense.

Clearly, some transcendent power had been involved.

Believing Thor might know, I asked the question.

But to my surprise, Thor’s response betrayed my expectations.

“I don’t know.”

“What?”

“I said I don’t know. I’m not my father; how would I know something like that?”

Huh, that’s unexpected.

“Isn’t it possible that the Old Father summoned me?”

“The old man who’s dead and doesn’t even have a body anymore? I mean, he could have done it, but I doubt it. He’s only ever cared about his own resurrection. Besides, if any god expended enough power to summon a soul from another world, I’d know immediately. And I haven’t sensed anything like that recently.”

Then who?

When I pressed further, Thor shook his head firmly.

“Do you think I spend 24 hours staring at dimensional barriers? I don’t know! I don’t care! Maybe some creepy mage pulled it off. You figure it out.”

Wow… talk about indifferent.

Still, I’d gained something.

Whoever had summoned me—it wasn’t a god.

It was highly likely that it was a mortal, whether a mage or someone else.

Who could it be?

I mentally shuffled through the character cards of Arcane Seoul, reviewing every possible entity in the game.

Unfortunately, I didn’t have enough clues.

I’d need to uncover more leads to deduce who had dragged me into this world.

“I thought the Old Father brought me here.”

“Because of your soul? Hmm, your soul is special. Can’t you tell by the fact I’m even speaking to you?”

“Is it because of Trait Swap?”

“Yeah. Your soul is incredibly refined. Highly unique, too. If you accumulate a bit more karma, you could ascend and become a Celestial Star. Becoming a minor god would be well within your reach.”

Thor smacked his lips as if considering the possibilities.

“So, here’s an idea. If you don’t have anywhere to go after you die, why not become one of my Einherjar? Ever since Sigurd disappeared, I haven’t had anyone suitable to take over as my warlord. You’d fit the bill perfectly. Be my Warlord.”

“Excuse me? I don’t have any plans to die anytime soon.”

“I’m talking about after you die, you little human. Wouldn’t it be better than being reincarnated into just anything? No matter how refined your soul is, the laws of the dimensional system mean you could still end up as a bug.”

Why was the conversation suddenly heading in this direction?

When I blinked in confusion, Thor waved his hand dismissively.

“Think about it. Wouldn’t becoming an Warlord be far better than starting over from zero in some random life? With a soul of your caliber, you’d easily rise to the level of a lesser deity under me. Still, you’d need to reach Level 9 while alive. So, live your life to the fullest and fight until you die. Got it? If you decide to go for it, just pray to me at any of my temples. I’ll grant you my blessing, along with replicas of Megingjord and Járngreipr. With those, you’d be twice as powerful.”

“Hahaha…”

Can’t you just give them to me now?

The words reached the tip of my tongue, but I swallowed them.

Saying them out loud felt like I’d be binding myself to him.

Becoming an Warlord…

The scale of the offer was too massive for me to answer right away.

“Thank you for the offer. I’ll give it some thought as I live my life.”

“Good. Think about it. Gungnir and Sleipnir are waiting for their master. If you accumulate enough karma and become my warlord, I’ll give you the real Gungnir and Sleipnir.”

Gungnir and Sleipnir—those were tempting.

And not replicas, but the real thing.

Even if it was a matter for after Level 9 or even after death, Thor clearly knew how to bait the hook.

The guy who once fished up Jormungandr hadn’t lost his touch.

The Ambrosia on the tray was beginning to run out.

Thor, whose curiosity had initially sparkled, was now starting to look a bit bored.

There was time for only one or two more questions.

I had plenty I wanted to ask, but I buried most of them.

Thor wasn’t the most intellectual type; calling him a “muscle-brain” wouldn’t be an exaggeration.

If I asked, “I don’t know. What do you expect me to do about it?” was the kind of answer I’d likely get.

Instead, I threw out a question that would shape my plans moving forward.

“You know the Old Father is going to resurrect soon, don’t you?”

“I do.”

“And that he plans to use me as a vessel?”

“Of course.”

“Don’t you have any intention of helping me?”

“Why would I? Are you one of my followers? Swear yourself to me as an Einherjar and get the tattoo of my faith, and then I’ll help you.”

As expected, there’s no such thing as a free lunch.

Thor eyed me with disinterest, as if he already knew what answer I’d give.

“I’ll overcome it on my own.”

“Heh. That’s the spirit. A warrior should crush their enemies with their own strength, shouldn’t they? If you had begged for my help, I’d have considered making you an Einherjar but never my warlord.”

What a fickle personality.

Then again, Thor in mythology had always been like this—not a solemn, stoic veteran, but an unruly troublemaker who leaped from one thunderous misadventure to the next.

“Work hard. I like people like you—those idiots who charge headfirst even when they know they’ll lose. If they die, they crawl up to Valhalla, and if they survive, they become great heroes.”

“Setting me aside for a moment, don’t you feel anything about the Old Father’s resurrection? As I understand it, the Old Father is your sworn adversary.”

Thor scratched his cheek.

Running his hand over the grotesque head of Jormungandr mounted on the armrest of his chair, he spoke in a low voice.

“To be honest, I wouldn’t mind if he resurrected.”

“Excuse me? Are you serious?”

“Yes, look at me, you little human. Look at this stupid palace.”

Thor abruptly stood up and strode toward a window.

He threw it open wide, revealing a grand scene.

Clouds stretched out like rolling fields of earth.

Jagged mountain peaks jutted up everywhere.

The sun, moon, and stars drifted as if close enough to touch.

The view was breathtaking, but Thor’s face showed dissatisfaction.

“I am the God of War. The God of Thunder, the Storm God who commands lightning, rain, and clouds. And yet, I’m stuck in this place, sipping Nectar like some pampered fool.”

Ah…

I could understand Thor’s frustration.

“Where have all the old gods gone? The ancient warriors? The Einherjar who once sliced enemy throats and cracked open skulls instead of feasting on pork? Now, all that’s left are worms. Both I and my warriors are imprisoned in this palace, rotting away in this garbage heap of a subdimension.”

Thor paused to take a deep breath.

His misty eyes seemed to search the past, revisiting memories of better times—when he roamed the earth, fought battles, and gambled freely.

“I should have died at Ragnarok. I should have killed Jormungandr and died to its poison. Not dying back then has been my greatest regret. Or better yet, I should never have fought in the War of the Fallen Gods. If I hadn’t joined that war, I wouldn’t be in this mess. They call us the victors of the War of the Fallen Gods, but in the end, who truly benefited? Only you little humans.”

He wasn’t wrong.

There was a reason Arcane Seoul’s narration began with “The gods are dead.”

As a result of the War of the Fallen Gods, the defeated gods perished, and even the victorious gods were imprisoned.

The only true victors were humanity.

From that point on, the age of humanity had truly begun.

The era of gold-worship and magitech supremacy.

“Do you want a world war?”

“To be honest, yes.”

This isn’t good…

So that’s why the churches were so passive during Episode 3: The Resurrection of the Ancient Gods.

I’d thought it was simply because the South Korean government had become a puppet regime, but there was more to it than that.

It wasn’t just the Thor Cult—other religious orders must have felt the same.

“Still, I’ll cheer you on.”

Thor looked at me with his fierce, blazing eyes.

“The Old Father. That bastard is utterly revolting. If he resurrects, the world will certainly get more interesting, but it will also become absolutely horrific. Half of me wants him to return, and half of me hopes he doesn’t. If you want to survive, struggle as much as you can. Or better yet, rely on me.”

Thor extended his hand.

The spectral-like hand approached and pierced through my chest.

It grasped my heart and spinal cord simultaneously.

No, it wasn’t a hand.

It was a pure mass of energy—something so pure it couldn’t be defined as mana or Divine Power, but something beyond both.

Boom!

Lightning struck.

Thunder roared.

I couldn’t even breathe properly.

My mana circuits were unraveling in real time.

They coiled, broke, disintegrated, and then reassembled themselves.

They became one.

A new mana circuit was constructed.

[Thor Cultivation Technique]

It was incomparable to the Sigurd Cultivation Technique.

It was a literal bolt of lightning.

A relentless, ferocious power coursed through my entire body with unstoppable force.

An overwhelming sense of omnipotence took hold of me.

As I clenched my fist, a faint rumble of thunder echoed from within my body.

“Be on your way.”

The world began to fade.

Thor, the Jormungandr-upholstered chair, the office severed from reality, the palace in the sky, and even Asgard itself—all became distant, receding into the void.

Just before I crossed the dimensional barrier, my invincibility wore off.

And only then could I see it.

A massive shadow.

A presence that enveloped all of Asgard.

The humanoid Thor I had seen earlier was nothing more than an illusion.

The true form was the Primordial Lightning, so vast and grand that it filled the entire alternate dimension.

“Huuk… Haa… Huuu.”

Even a fleeting exposure had inflicted severe damage.

My entire body tingled.

No, it felt as though it were being crushed.

My consciousness flickered, and my heartbeat stuttered irregularly.

“D-damn it.”

I hastily equipped traits related to regeneration and immortality, but they were useless.

I drank a high-grade healing potion and holy water.

Even that wasn’t enough—I had to crack open an elixir.

Only then did my body—no, my soul—finally begin to stabilize.

“Haaah…”

Is this for real?

I had been ejected from Asgard, and the glimpse I’d caught for just one second—no, 0.1 seconds—had left me in this state?

I couldn’t help but shudder.

“It seems the Greatest Lightning took a liking to you.”

“I almost died.”

“Haha. Inspect your mana circuit. You’ll understand why I said that.”

The Pontiff smiled as he looked at me.

What’s with him?

I focused inward and soon realized what he meant.

[Thor Cultivation Technique]

Surrounding the newly reconstructed mana circuit, faint sparks of electricity danced and crackled.

I focused my mind.

I imagined the sparks gathering at my fingertips.

And then—

Crackle!

Between my index finger and thumb, a tiny bolt of lightning flickered.

Bzzzzt!

A new elemental trait: [Lightning].

In terms of electrical attributes, it was undisputedly top-tier.

Comparable even to Black Flame among fire attributes.

And now, it was flickering between my fingers.

–TL Notes–
Tired of seeing Ads? Then please support me on Patreon! Any tier of subscription will make it so you won’t get any ads!

If you want to support me or give me feedback, you can do it at patreon.com/InsanityTheGame

Join my Discord! https://discord.gg/BWaP3AHHpt