Trait Hoarder – Chapter 220

Above the Sky — Part 2

I calmly stared at the High Priest.

“You knew I was coming?”

“Of course.”

The High Priest slowly nodded.

“How could I not, when you’ve ruined the great work we’ve prepared for decades? You are indeed remarkable. I expected to face you in Seoul, not here.”

“That guy earlier—wasn’t he the War Chief? I didn’t think you’d sacrifice him.”

“Hmph.”

The High Priest raised the staff in his hand.

The jaguar head at its tip gleamed with an ominous red light.

“That was the War Chief’s role. He offered both body and soul to the Black Jaguar, ensuring that even in death, he will serve as nourishment. Now, enter. Adversary of the Cult. Be devoured by the Black Jaguar and become a vessel of flesh!”

The crimson light engulfed me.

Darkness surged like a tidal wave.

If I wanted, I could use the Ring of Grand Escape hidden in my gear pouch to get out of this.

But I didn’t.

[Living Sacrifice]

The name of both the High Priest’s trait and this grand magic.

A powerful crowd-control spell that seals and kills its target instantly.

But it has a fatal flaw.

It drains the caster’s mana at an insane rate.

If it succeeds, fine.

If it fails, it’s over.

And I know exactly how to escape this seal.

Swoooosh.

The world collapses.

And then reconstructs itself.

The dimly lit interior of the private jet disappears.

In its place—

A barren wasteland of volcanic rock.

The ground is littered with black basalt stones, riddled with holes.

A faint sulfuric stench rises, stinging my nose.

Above, the sky is dark, choked with volcanic ash clouds.

And all around me—statues.

Statues of the Black Jaguar, standing tall and watching me with a single missing eye.

[Warrior. Adversary of the Cult. Eminent hero.]

The High Priest’s voice echoed.

[Fight for eternity. Your opponent is our War Chief.]

Hisssss.

A sulfurous mist rises from the ground.

The swirling smoke gathers, taking shape.

A disturbingly lifelike form—

The War Chief I had just killed.

Now resurrected as an apparition, gripping his sword.

“This must’ve cost a fortune.”

This was just like the game.

You kill a boss, and instead of moving forward, your character gets forcibly teleported into a one-on-one battle.

If only it were just one-on-one.

The real horror of this place is that it never stays that way.

Defeat one, and two appear.

Defeat two, and four spawn.

Defeat three, and suddenly there are eight.

Yeah. Imagine an army of copied Swordmasters.

In the game, the external squad—three remaining party members—had to kill the High Priest.

Meanwhile, the trapped player had to hold out.

If they failed and died, the next player got pulled in.

‘I’ll stall for as long as possible.’

There’s no end to this.

A veteran player once sent a fully maxed-out Level 9 Heavenly Demon in here.

He fought until 1,024 enemies spawned.

After that, the game’s mobile engine hit its limit, and it just kept spawning 1,024 indefinitely.

I won’t last that long.

The best option is to stall until I find a way out.

“KRRAAH!”

The War Chief lets out a battle cry and charges.

Not bad.

Instead of a sword, I pull out twin pistols.

I flip backward in an aerial somersault.

And fire.

TATATATATANG!

[Invincible Gun] [Grand Assault] [Holy Power]

[Supreme Flame] [Thunderbolt] [Earth]

I hold back on using the Sacred Knight trait.

The High Priest won’t use his ultimate move until he has no choice.

So I only equip [Holy Power].

Then I add [Supreme Flame], [Thunderbolt], and [Earth] for good measure.

Each time I pull the trigger—

Each time the ethereal bullets strike the War Chief’s ghostly form—

Flowers bloom.

Flowers of Holy Power.

Golden blossoms of Supreme Flame, blazing bolts of Thunderbolt, and cube-shaped petals of Earth.

All three traits deal extra damage to undead.

Each bullet impact violently shakes the War Chief.

“Guh! Guhh…!”

His reaction is extreme.

If he were alive, he wouldn’t be struggling this much.

Right now, the bullets are gouging deep, leaving cratered wounds—

As if someone was scooping out chunks of his body with a spoon.

I could just keep dodging and shooting until I win.

Realizing this, the War Chief roars and raises his sword.

“KRAAAAH!”

Already?

Phase Two.

His eyes glow blood-red.

Magic circles appear across his body like glowing tattoos.

Then they fade, dissolving into the surrounding space.

Now, the only thing visible—

Is his blood-red sword.

And the brilliant sword energy radiating from it.

“Heh.”

Phasing.

In Phase Two, the War Chief relentlessly spams Phasing and sword energy attacks.

Can’t hit an enemy in Phasing?

Then you’re dead.

But here’s the thing.

Can Holy Power, Supreme Flame, Thunderbolt, and Earth hit a Phantomized opponent?

And what about the ethereal bullets of Dasan’s Rifle?

I figured they’d be highly effective—

But this?

It’s downright brutal.

The War Chief is my prey.

In game terms, he’s an excellent XP source.

Here, he’s nothing but an achievement farm.

TATATATATATATATA!

I counter by activating Phasing myself and firing nonstop with Invincible Gun.

Hundreds of ethereal bullets rain down, melting the War Chief like ice cream in the sun.

His final attack barely grazes the edge of my phantomized form.

But it’s useless.

His sword has no special properties—

It can’t touch me.

“Ghh… This is not… the end…”

“Oh, I know.”

Next, there will be two of them.

A short break between battles.

I open my golf bag and check the inkstone that the Ghost of King Jeongjo had given me.

The plum blossom emblem glows faintly.

Achievement unlocked.

Now, I can claim the Royal Jeongjo Gun anytime I visit Gyujanggak.

‘Looks like I’m finally graduating from Dasan’s Rifle.’

Farewell, Dasan’s Rifle.

Set weapons are nice—

But transformation and fusion weapons are the best.

A guttural growl rumbled.

“Grrr… Grrrrrr…”

“Haha… I have returned.”

Exactly five minutes later, as if on cue, the illusions reappeared.

I holstered my twin pistols and pulled out a rifle and shotgun.

Then, I asked, “Aren’t you even a little resentful? Your High Priest sacrificed you however he pleased.”

I wasn’t expecting an answer.

Fanatics always say the same thing.

And sure enough—

The two illusions cackled as they spoke.

“A heretic… would never… understand the faithful.”

“I offer… my body and soul… to the Black Jaguar.”

“I am… grateful… to the High Priest.”

“I shall… enjoy eternal bliss.”

“Hahaha.”

“Die!”

Their swords lunged forward with precision.

Had they learned from my earlier reaction?

They were positioning themselves to strike me if I used Blink recklessly.

Nice try.

I activated [Psychic Power] and [Blink] together, retreating far out of their range.

Normally, Blink leaves a brief moment of stiffness upon landing, making it risky.

But when I use Psychic Power alongside it, and when I’m just increasing distance instead of charging in, it’s a different story.

BANG! TATATATATA!

I unloaded the shotgun and rifle.

As expected, the four-layered elemental traits tore into the illusions.

“C-cowardly.”

“A warrior… should fight with honor.”

“A hero of great renown… why fight so disgracefully?”

“Do you know… nothing but ambush and retreat?”

I let out a small snort.

“So what?”

Cowardly? Dishonorable?

Oh, thanks for the compliment.

You’re nothing but copies made by your so-called god, yet you sure have a lot to say.

Would it be fair if I just stood still and let you kill me?

If you’re using divine power, I’ll use Trait Swap.

I moved freely.

This vast desert was my backyard.

I stuck to strict out-fighting tactics.

Shooting them from afar with my rifle and shotgun.

Reloading quickly with [Gunslinger] and [Rapid Reload].

Escaping not just with [Grand Assault] but also [Acceleration] and [Blink] whenever needed.

And I wasn’t just spraying bullets blindly.

Periodically, I activated [Bright Eyes] to target their weak spots.

Illusions were just condensed mana, after all.

Somewhere within them was a concentrated mana core—akin to a heart.

Attacking it made them visibly weaker.

Why wouldn’t I aim for it?

THUD!

“Guh!”

“Khhk…”

Their reactions changed.

Their bodies trembled more violently.

Mana smoke dispersed from their wounds.

And most importantly—

My gun felt lighter in my hands.

I knew instantly.

‘I’ve got a critical strike trait.’

If I hit their weak spots, I triggered critical damage.

It synergized perfectly with [Bright Eyes].

Since weak spot detection was part of Bright Eyes, it meant I could reliably land critical hits.

Thanks to that, I took down both illusions in no time.

Without even drawing my sword.

With just bullets.

“Draw your sword.”

“Why… does a Swordmaster… use guns?”

“Face us… in combat.”

“How long… do you plan to keep running?”

Not a chance.

Who said it first?

Games are all about making your opponent frustrated.

And the longer this pocket dimension stays active, the more mana the High Priest burns.

Dragging this out is the best option.

As long as I don’t push myself into danger.

‘I’m starting to feel it now.’

After my fourth victory—

When sixteen illusions spawned—

I finally felt the strain.

It wasn’t because I was using guns.

Even if I switched to a sword, it wouldn’t change the real problem.

‘There are too many.’

Even in this wide-open space, there was a limit.

Sixteen enemies.

Four constantly chasing me, while the other twelve formed squads of three, closing in from all directions.

I could still keep dodging for now.

But once their numbers doubled to thirty-two?

That’d be impossible.

I’d have to draw my sword.

The War Chief seemed to sense this as well.

Despite being burned by Supreme Flame, seared by Thunderbolt, and crushed by Earth, he grinned smugly.

“Hahaha.”

“It is… almost time.”

“You… will die.”

“The Black Jaguar… will devour you.”

Too bad.

This is as far as I go.

But I stalled for a long time.

Almost two hours, by my count.

If my calculations are correct, the High Priest is near his limit.

Outside, he’s probably chugging mana potions nonstop, barely keeping this spell active.

It would be nice to win just one more round—

But I won’t take unnecessary risks.

One slip, and I’m done for.

I only have one life, and this isn’t a game.

And since Ring of Grand Escape doesn’t work here, there’s no reason to be reckless.

Step, step.

I walked toward the nearest statue.

The ones watching me with their glowing red eyes.

There was only one way to escape this place.

To submit to the Black Jaguar, offering both body and soul.

‘Not happening.’

I raised the Black Tiger Sword and sliced my palm open.

Droplets of blood dripped onto the statue.

The statue’s mouth opened wide, greedily drinking my blood.

Thus began the Rite of Submission.

The statues’ eyes gleamed as they whispered to me.

[Offer yourself.]

It wasn’t just the blood-fed statue.

The others joined in, murmuring in eerie voices.

[Offer your blood.]

[Offer your flesh.]

[Offer your soul.]

[In return, we shall grant you power and authority.]

[You shall be king of this world.]

[You shall bask in eternal paradise.]

A cult so pathetic it didn’t even make it into the Westphalian Covenant of Divine Annihilation sure had a lot to say.

Ignoring them, I continued feeding the statues my blood.

Normally, one would have to converse with the statues, negotiating the details.

Would I sacrifice part of my body?

Offer my soul after death?

Join the cult and devote myself to the Black Jaguar?

But there was another option.

A silent choice.

One marked only as […].

Choosing it meant simply continuing to bleed—without ever responding.

A veteran player once said even a Level 9 Heavenly Demon had to use over twice their max HP to make it work.

Obviously, if I tried this the normal way, I’d die ten times over.

[Undying] [Regeneration] [Rebirth]

[Healing] [Vigor] [Vitality Surge]

I endured it easily with Trait Swap.

For every drop of blood lost, my body regenerated instantly.

The only annoying part was that my wounds kept healing too fast, forcing me to keep reopening them.

The statues, drinking my blood, urged me on.

[Answer us.]

[Why do you remain silent?]

[Speak.]

[Swear your allegiance.]

[If you do not answer soon, we will inflict eternal agony upon you.]

Their voices grew impatient.

This wasn’t an AI or a magic spirit speaking.

It was a nameless god—a deity stripped of its full divinity—speaking through the High Priest, using his mana as fuel.

No wonder it was desperate.

Communing with a god consumed an enormous amount of mana.

It might work in the dedicated prayer chambers of a Grand Temple, but here?

Not a chance.

And once the Rite of Submission had begun, summoning the War Chief’s specter became impossible.

The moment the High Priest used [Living Sacrifice] on me, his defeat was sealed.

Crackle. Zzzzzzt.

The world distorted.

Like an old television failing to receive a signal, static filled the air.

[Speak! Speak now, damn you!]

Yeah, sure.

I ignored them and kept pouring out my blood.

The sky split apart, the earth twisted violently.

And then—

With a flicker—

The entire world vanished.

“Guhh! Khhhak!”

A death rattle.

My vision hadn’t fully returned yet.

My eyes were still crossing the dimensional boundary, submerged in utter darkness.

But my body was already moving.

[Bright Eyes] [Combat Sense]

I grasped the situation instantly.

[Kalaratri] [Thunderbolt] [Dance]

I became lightning itself, sweeping through the battlefield.

[Ambush]

I activated my newly acquired trait as well.

“Gagh!”

“Khhh!”

“Urk!”

Most of them were priests.

They had transferred all their mana to the High Priest using a Mana Transfer Array.

Without warriors or reinforced soldiers protecting them, and after exhausting their own mana, they were completely defenseless.

My Black Tiger Sword spilled the first blood.

The lightning that followed incinerated the rest.

“Hah… Hahaha.”

The High Priest laughed.

A hollow, bitter laugh.

By then, my vision had fully returned.

I took in the devastation of the private jet.

Everyone was dead.

The Three High Priests, the priesthood, the pilots, the crew—every last one of them.

The only survivor was the High Priest himself.

If the magic spirit hadn’t switched to autopilot earlier, the jet would’ve crashed already.

And finally—

My Black Tiger Sword—

The unbreakable blade, its jet-black surface gleaming—

Was pressed firmly against the High Priest’s throat.

“Surrender.”

Of course, to a fanatic, surrender wasn’t an option.

But something else was.

“Or let’s make a deal.”

“A deal?”

“Yeah.”

I nodded slowly, deliberately.

“I know everything. Your secret alliance with the Old Father’s Cult. If you tell me everything about it, I’ll let you live.”

“Hah! Let me live? Should I be grateful for such generosity? You’ve slaughtered my priests, my devout followers, and now you offer me mercy?”

“Your choice.”

I pressed the sword deeper.

A thin trickle of blood formed at his throat.

That’s when his eyes changed.

He gritted his teeth audibly—then, ever so slightly, nodded.

“Fine. The living can still seek revenge. If you swear not to kill me, I will tell you everything I know. If you wish, I will even provide evidence.”

Oh? Evidence too?

How cooperative.

That only meant one thing—he was truly desperate.

I could see it all—his thoughts, his schemes.

Too bad for him.

The Avatar Form he planned to use as a trump card—

Its perfect counter was [Sacred Knight].

I had used Divine Radiance before, but I had never exposed Sacred Knight.

The High Priest looked at me.

His eyes, pretending to be resigned, powerless.

But deep within them, his killing intent still lurked.

And as I saw that—

I smiled to myself.

–TL Notes–
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