Trait Hoarder

God Poca — Part 1

My body burned.

My head felt hazy.

Consciousness surfaced and sank repeatedly.

Whenever the sensation of ants crawling over my skin tormented me, my mind would momentarily clear, only to blur again under the weight pressing down on me.

It was painful.

It hurt.

Or did it really?

Even in agony, it didn’t feel like true suffering.

[Como está o paciente?] (TL Note: How’s the patient?)

[Continua a mesma coisa.] (TL Note: Still the same.)

What language was that?

That thought barely had time to register before my consciousness sank again.

In that fleeting moment, I instinctively swapped my traits.

[Undying] [Resurrection] [Regeneration]

[Vigor] [Meditation] [Rest]

At last, clarity returned to my mind.

With the power of recovery-based traits, my body was healing rapidly.

Even after swapping traits, it still took several hours before I finally opened my eyes.

A nurse, upon seeing me awake, let out a scream and bolted out of the room.

[O paciente acordou!] (TL Note: The patient has awoken!)

What was she saying?

Ah, Portuguese.

Finally, I could grasp the situation.

“I’m alive…”

I muttered, looking down at my hands with a faint smile.

At the very last moment, choosing to equip [Nine Lives] had been the best possible decision.

The trait [Nine Lives].

Its effect was immensely powerful.

In game terms, it nullified a fatal attack once and fully restored HP.

In reality, it functioned similarly.

It granted temporary invincibility and rapid regeneration.

And the result was this.

The Wraith King was dead, but I had survived.

I had even endured the triple-stacked berserk backlash from [Frenzy], [One-Man Army], and [Berserk].

“Hoo…”

The aftereffects of berserk mode were severe.

It reminded me of the time I had undone my mutation.

Hadn’t I suffered back then too, groaning inside a magic-infused bath?

If not for the backlash, I wouldn’t have woken up here.

I would have simply gathered the Wraith King’s spoils without a second thought.

At least I had equipped both defensive and recovery traits alongside [Nine Lives], which helped lessen the damage.

I glanced at the glowing [Meditation] and [Rest] traits within my mana circuits.

‘Should I create [Repose]…?’

A high-tier trait composed of Reflection, Meditation, Contemplation, Rest, Recuperation, and Serenity.

[Repose].

It specialized in eliminating aftereffects like these.

Even post-mutation superhumans could use it to keep fighting without issue.

Yes, I should create it.

A good trait would always find its use someday.

After all, I hadn’t used [Nine Lives] in months.

And yet, it had just saved my life.

Bang!

The door burst open, and a group of doctors rushed in.

One of them, an older gentleman, stepped forward and greeted me respectfully.

“Savior of São Paulo, Knight of Paul, Sword Star Warrior Kim, it is an honor to meet you.”

That was quite the grand introduction.

A side note—this world had no Twelve Apostles of Christianity.

Instead, there was the legend of the Twelve Knights.

Swordmasters who roamed the land, slaying ancient beasts.

Paul had been one of them.

Though he wasn’t a paladin, he was revered enough to be called Saint Paul.

“Savior? That’s too much praise.”

“Not at all. The Burning Smoke himself has declared it. If I may, may I examine you, Sword Star?”

“Go ahead.”

The doctor approached cautiously, his every movement filled with reverence.

He checked my pupils with a penlight and nodded.

“I need to verify a few things. What is your name?”

A sense of déjà vu washed over me.

The name Kim Junsu briefly popped into my head, making me chuckle.

“Warrior Kim.”

“Yes, Sword Star Warrior Kim. Do you know today’s date?”

“I’m not entirely sure, but it should be around July 3rd? I arrived here on June 30th and was unconscious for about three days.”

“Amazing. High-level superhumans truly are different. Even while unconscious, you kept track of time. And, do you know where you are?”

“A hospital, I assume. Somewhere in São Paulo.”

“More precisely, you are in the Grand Cathedral. This is a patient room inside the Grand Cathedral. Lastly… since you are a foreigner, let me phrase this properly… Who is the current leader of the Protector Alliance?”

“Blood King.”

“Perfect. It is safe to say your consciousness is fully intact.”

What was this test called again?

I had learned about it by chance later on—it was a method for assessing mental state.

Originally developed for dementia patients, it was now widely used to check the cognitive function of newly awakened patients.

“Are you feeling any pain? If there’s any discomfort, please inform us immediately. While X-ray, CT, MRI, magical vision scans, and divine foresight scans all showed normal results, a high-level superhuman like yourself might sense things differently.”

“Hmm.”

I moved my body, flexing various parts instinctively.

I also scanned myself thoroughly with my special vision and heightened senses.

“Nothing seems wrong at the moment. Ah, by the way, where is my equipment?”

“Everything is stored in that vault over there. The Wraith King’s equipment is stored with it.”

“Thank you. If possible, I’d like to put my gear back on.”

“Understood. I’ll inform the nurses. Please rest comfortably, and if you need anything, just press the bell.”

The doctor gave a respectful bow before stepping back.

The other doctors followed suit.

I stretched my body and then walked over to the vault.

My fingerprint had already been registered, allowing me to open it easily.

‘As expected, the Mama Quilla Cult is as meticulous as ever.’

On the outskirts of São Paulo…

A fierce battle had taken place at a massive landfill.

The moment it ended, the Cult had likely dispatched paladins and priests to retrieve me.

I had done their work for them—naturally, they were treating me as an honored guest.

Hadn’t I contributed as much as when I passed on the method to overcome stigmata?

No—I had contributed even more.

Enough to demand at least a drop of divine blood.

“Huu…”

Even though I had been fully healed, my body felt heavy.

Mental and physical exhaustion crashed down on me simultaneously.

Gurgle.

I was starving.

A serious, gnawing hunger.

In my current state, I could probably devour an entire cow and still have room for more.

When I pressed the bell to request a meal, they soon brought out a feast so grand the table legs looked ready to snap under the weight.

“Please eat well, Knight of Paul.”

What the hell was all this?

This wasn’t the kind of bland, easily digestible food normally served to patients.

On one side of the spacious hospital room, an enormous table—big enough for eight people—was completely covered with extravagant dishes.

Teardrop-shaped fried snacks.

Pork intestine stew.

An assortment of grilled meat skewers.

Stacks of garlic bread.

A dish made of bacon, eggs, onions, olive oil, vegetables, and mashed beans.

Fried biscuits.

Coconut-oil-fried crab.

If I had to compare it to Korean cuisine, it was like a full-course Namdo-style traditional meal.

Not a course-by-course serving, but the kind where they brought out everything all at once.

And the portions were massive.

Not just enough for eight people—twenty could eat their fill.

“Thank you for the meal.”

I found myself giving thanks, something I didn’t usually do.

Then, I dug in.

Superhumans with warrior-type classes were often big eaters.

They burned an enormous amount of calories.

While I usually ate at a normal pace, today was an exception—I had to loosen my belt.

This is seriously delicious.

Exotic Brazilian cuisine.

Heavy on the meat, and absolutely mouthwatering.

I shoveled everything into my stomach.

Thanks to my recovery and rest-related traits, I could eat endlessly.

In the end, I wiped out all twenty servings.

“Would you like some more?”

“No, I’m good. That was an amazing meal.”

“The Grand Patriarch has instructed us to spare no effort in serving you, Sword Star. He also wishes to meet you once you have fully recovered.”

The Grand Patriarch wanted to meet me…

That was an interesting change.

In the past, even if I had wanted a meeting, it wouldn’t have been possible.

I had been blocked at the Grand Patriarch level.

Now, the invitation was coming directly from the top.

I accepted with a smile.

“Understood. But I’m not fully recovered yet. I’ll rest a bit more before meeting him.”

“As expected. The Grand Patriarch has also recommended that you use the Holy Spring. What do you think?”

The Holy Spring.

Similar to a Mana Spring, but superior to all other hot springs.

Its recovery rate and healing potency were unmatched.

“Thank you. I’ll gladly use it.”

The Holy Spring was directly connected to my hospital room.

It was originally reserved for high-ranking Poca Cult superhumans when they were injured.

I stepped into the steaming waters.

I wore only a soft robe woven from the Moon’s Silk.

The moment it touched my skin, my body felt revitalized.

Apparently, the robe had been personally consecrated by the Moon Goddess Mama Quilla.

“This is nice…”

How long had it been since I last enjoyed such leisure?

At the moment I equipped Nine Lives and withstood the Wraith King’s final attack, I had sensed it—

I had overturned my fate.

I couldn’t explain it in precise words, but I knew it was true.

Was it because I had acquired the [Heaven Defiance] trait?

Or because I had suppressed the zombie crisis in São Paulo?

I wasn’t sure.

But one thing was certain—

Right now, the Saintess must be making a disgusted expression.

My thoughts naturally drifted to her.

After all, she was the one who had summoned me.

I had originally been from this world.

Reincarnated from a parallel Earth.

That raised a question.

Who had I been?

Judging from the way the Saintess spoke, I must have been someone recorded in history.

Pfft.

The thought was amusing.

Once, I had withered away in a cramped two-square-meter goshiwon room.

Spending my days loading and unloading cargo, doing menial labor.

And now, I was supposed to be a legendary historical figure?

It was funny, but also bitter.

So this is life, huh?

Should I be grateful?

To the Saintess who summoned me?

Like hell I should.

In the end, she had only summoned me for her own benefit.

No matter what self-sacrificial spell she had used, she was still a wretched woman.

If you’re going to throw someone into the jaws of fate, you’d better be ready to take responsibility.

With your life.

I didn’t care if she was dying anyway.

I would ruin her plans.

Then ruin her second plan.

Then her third.

Until she was completely broken, staring at me in despair as I pressed a blade to her throat.

If she had tried to manipulate another person’s life, she had better be prepared for the consequences.

While I was soaking in the Holy Spring, my body loosened like a sloth, and all my fatigue melted away.

Acquired the trait: [Rehabilitation].

Soaking in Chaos-Infused Baths had given me the [Rest] trait.

Now, soaking in the Holy Spring had granted me [Rehabilitation].

No further confirmation was needed.

I returned to my hospital room and rested deeply.

With that, my aftereffects were completely gone.

My condition was back to perfection.

Still… I regret not getting the Wraith King’s gear.

All of the Wraith King’s equipment was SSR-tier.

A full set of it would be enough to fully arm any warrior-type superhuman.

But compared to my current gear?

It was slightly inferior.

The gauntlets and cursed sword are excellent, but…

They still couldn’t compare to the Black Tiger Sword and Golden Fleece.

The Black Tiger Sword was indestructible and had the highest physical attack power in Arcane Seoul.

Not even a 1st-tier weapon—it was a 0th-tier weapon.

As for the absolute defense of the Bone Gauntlets?

In terms of utility, the Golden Fleece’s immortality and resurrection were superior.

I had felt it clearly in this battle.

Might as well sell it.

The artifacts I had received from the High Priest.

The Wraith King’s full set.

Both were treasures that could easily fetch hundreds of billions—if they found the right buyer.

It would be best to cash out and buy a few buildings in Gangnam.

No matter what anyone says, real estate is king.

“Sword Star, did you call?”

“Yes, I’m up.”

“I’ll bring your breakfast.”

“Thank you. Oh, and keep it simple today. I don’t usually eat that much.”

Breakfast was indeed simple.

Brazilian cheese bread, scrambled eggs, an omelet with finely chopped vegetables, a salad, a glass of orange juice, and a cup of coffee.

It was like an American breakfast with a Brazilian twist.

I already missed rice.

A steaming bowl of bean sprout soup or pork rice soup would hit the spot.

Not yet.

I had already planned my next move.

After nearly four days of rest, it was time to get moving again.

Once I finished my meetings with the Grand Patriarch and Smoke God Poca, I intended to fly to the Arctic.

I tapped the Golden Ruler’s Staff and Fire Pearl inside my golf bag absentmindedly.

“That was a great meal.”

“Thank you. Would you like us to prepare the Holy Spring again today?”

“No need. I’m fully recovered now.”

“Oh! Sword Star, in that case…”

“Yes. I’d like to meet the Grand Patriarch. Also, if possible, could I have an audience with Burning Smoke as well?”

Would that even be possible?

Poca was still in an unawakened state, and the entire Poca Cult was shielding him.

They were doing everything they could to prevent external exposure.

No matter who came to visit, all audiences were denied.

Even members of other minor Cults were turned away.

No matter how much merit I had earned, this would be a tough request.

But in the end, I was wrong.

The nurse leaned in close and whispered discreetly.

“You’ll likely meet them together.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Officially, the meeting will only be with the Grand Patriarch… but.”

“Good. Please arrange the meeting as soon as possible.”

“Understood, Sword Star. I’ll inform the Grand Patriarch. He will be pleased to hear this.”

Though a nurse in title, she was actually a Level 4 superhuman of the priest class.

The meeting was arranged quickly.

By the afternoon—just a day after I had woken up—I was face-to-face with the Grand Patriarch.

A bishop escorted me, looking visibly nervous.

“Sword Star, I apologize for last time.”

“You had no choice. No one expected the Wraith King to reveal himself so soon. I thought I had a few more days as well.”

“Exactly! I was drafting the official order to begin our investigation the day after our last meeting, and suddenly, zombies started swarming the city! If not for you, it would have been a disaster. As a small token of gratitude, please accept this.”

The bishop discreetly handed me two bottles of Nectar.

A very small token indeed.

But this was actually fair.

The bishop hadn’t mistreated me or acted arrogantly—he had simply followed official protocol.

And Nectar was always useful, so it was worth accepting.

“Thank you. I’ll make good use of it.”

“Ahem! And about the Grand Patriarch…”

“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure to mention how much you’ve helped me.”

“Oh! That would be greatly appreciated.”

“There’s just one thing I’d like to ask you.”

“Of course, please go ahead.”

“Right before the Wraith King appeared, I had an unexpected visitor. Did you happen to check?”

“A visitor?”

The bishop looked at me, clearly puzzled.

“We reviewed all security footage and surveillance logs, and you… were alone. You stood outside the Grand Cathedral for quite some time, seemingly upset… Ahem! I sincerely apologize for how things turned out back then.”

So that’s why he gave me the Nectar.

Just as I suspected.

The Saintess had erased all traces of her visit.

If only they had caught her, I could have informed the Mama Quilla Cult about her attempt to abduct Poca.

What a shame.

“Actually, someone did visit me that day. It seems they tampered with the security system.”

“That’s impossible.”

“Check again. If you can uncover their identity, you’ll earn great merit.”

“Huh… This is quite concerning. Thank you for the tip. If I find anything, I’ll be sure to inform you.”

This guy was surprisingly good at politics.

It seemed even a bishop’s position required navigating Cult politics.

Some things were the same everywhere.

I gave him a casual wave and stepped into the audience chamber.

The bishop bowed deeply before excusing himself.

At the top of a long staircase.

A veiled space came into view.

Seated beneath it on a simple wooden chair was the Grand Patriarch.

“Welcome, Savior of São Paulo, Knight of Paul.”

The Grand Patriarch stood up.

With his own hands, he pulled back the veil.

And revealed a child.

A boy, not even old enough to be in middle school, gazed at me with bright, intelligent eyes.

“Nice to meet you.”

The boy smiled.

A smile filled with wisdom beyond his years.

“I am Poca. The living god of Brazil.”

–TL Notes–

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