I Start with 13 Hidden Traits Chapter-114

Ch-104

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《The Neutral City *Aian* has been overrun by the Four-Calamity, Baal.》

《*Aian* begins to sink into the Abyss.》

《Four locations—Mountain of the Trainee, Delphia, Pablin, and Aian—have vanished from the map.》

《The Four-Calamity Baal has gained the title of “Dread God.”》

《The Four-Calamity Baal begins reclaiming his original power.》

《Only two neutral cities remain: *Cartel* and the *Temple of Runes*.》

《If Baal conquers *Cartel* and the *Temple of Runes*, “He Who Is the Abyss Itself” will be completed. A warp to Earth will then be generated.》

News of Aian’s fall—the third neutral city.

After the collapse of Delphia, both Pablin and Aian had toppled one after another like dominoes.

It was all because, after the first subjugation squad was obliterated in just one day, a proper defensive line was never formed.

Too fast. Too strong.

No one had anticipated this speed; everyone felt like their minds were about to snap.

—How strong is that *Baal* bastard? Every invasion collapses in under a day.

—It even feels like he’s growing stronger.

—“Dread God”? Does the title give bonus effects or something?

—What? He’s reclaiming his original power? Are you kidding me?

—That’s not a Four-Calamity… that’s straight-up a Demon King.

Falling like autumn leaves.

The lords of the neutral cities no longer had even the strength left to resist.

All they could do was accept annihilation.

At this point, calling Baal a Four-Calamity was generous—*Dread God*, *Demon King* suited him far better.

But the biggest problem was this: once all five neutral cities fell, the Four-Calamity would invade Earth directly.

—Does anyone have the Hydragon’s Soul?

—I saw a video. Someone in Korea summoned Hydragon using the Soul.

—So you checked Korea?

—Word is, they tore the whole country apart looking, but found nothing.

—If the owner has any conscience, they should come forward. Otherwise we’re all just gonna die together?

—Is Gracia our only hope? Where the hell is Master?

—Mintchoco Cult, rise up!
—Phantom God! Save us!

The Hydragon’s Soul Gracia was searching for remained shrouded in mystery.

No declared owner. No one who could even say who possessed it.

Then, one person posted on Player Talk.

—“I know who possesses the Hydragon’s Soul.”

—You’re lying *now*? You think this is funny?

—Ignore this clown.

—If it’s a lie I’ll find you and cut your damn hands off.

The players’ agitation surged.

Naturally so.

Unlike Pangenia, if the Four-Calamity invaded Earth itself, everyone knew there was no hope.

Truly—no hope at all.

In Pangenia, killing a Four-Calamity required the “Shards of the Golden Scale.” But on Earth? You needed them separately.

And if the Four-Calamity invaded a country other than your own, who would willingly spend those priceless, desperately scarce shards to go on an overseas expedition?

There were countless other intertwined national interests.

Unlike Pangaenia, Earth wasn’t divided into cities.

—It’s currently in the Empire.

—Heh. I could say that too.

—And if it really is in the Empire? What, are we supposed to invade the Empire now?

—This is all I can say. But *Master* might know exactly who it is. He was in the Empire himself until recently.

—Master was in the Empire?

—I thought he went off the grid.
—Then where is he now?

Even if he *was* in the Empire, if he left, his whereabouts should’ve been known.

The fact that even with Gracia stepping forward, Master alone remained silent was clearly suspicious.

Master was an attention seeker far worse than Gracia, after all.

—Well… he was cursed. His Pangaenia body turned into a *pig*. Until the curse is lifted, he won’t show himself. Even if it is lifted, maybe he’s too embarrassed to.

—…Pig? What kind of curse is that?

—You’ve been spouting nonsense for a while now.

—Still… it does fit. That form must be Master’s trauma. It proves he really was bullied as a kid and called a “pig.”

—You writing a novel?

—But wasn’t there a rumor Master was severely bullied as a kid?

—Everyone involved is dead, buried

—no way to fact-check.

—Why does this guy’s tone sound so weird?

People eventually dismissed him as a troll.

But the commotion didn’t last long.

《The *Temple of Runes* has been overrun.》

《The *Temple of Runes* begins sinking into the Abyss.》

《Once the final city, *Cartel*, falls, “He Who Is the Abyss Itself” will be completed.》

—…
—Why?
—What?

Just three hours after Aian’s fall…

…the *Temple of Runes* had fallen as well.

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The root of the Reaper Cult.

The Imperial Palace.

Standing at its center, I looked around.

A realm so unknown that even Wilhelm had never reached it.

Stepping foot here was good, but—

‘None of them look human.’

Every “human” present wore an animal mask.

Most wore bronze-colored masks; only a few—presumably administrators—wore silver.

‘Why is Number 1 the only one without an animal mask?’

Indeed, only Number 1 didn’t wear a beast mask.

He simply wore a golden mask.

Putting aside the question for later, I walked deeper into the palace—soon arriving at a hall where an endlessly long table overflowed with food.

Beside that table stood ten figures, each wearing a golden animal mask.

All of them turned their eyes toward Number 1—and toward me.

“Is the ‘purification’ of Darkan finished?”

“How many were ‘sinners’? Want to guess? Twenty?”

“I say fifty. If that vicious Golden Mask conducted it, at least fifty would be dead.”

“Oh, let’s bet! Loser gives up a thousand slaves.”

“And the one next to him? That black goat?”

They all knew about the “purification” carried out in Darkan’s domain.

The Golden Mask.

Number 1 opened his mouth.

“This man is the guardian of the Twelfth ‘Lineage.’ He had no golden mask prepared, so he had no choice but to wear a black one. He asks for your understanding.”
“Well, the first time can be like that.”

The speaker wore a golden cat mask.

Judging by the silhouette, he seemed male, but it was impossible to tell for sure. Everyone here had ambiguous voices, unclear whether male or female.

“The twelfth, huh. I’m quite curious what kind of Lineage that is.”

“Hm. I thought there were no more besides us. Twelfth… It’s not even in the records, is it?”

“We’ll know once we verify it—what kind of ‘Lineage’ it is.”

They expressed curiosity about “Hel.”

Meanwhile, Number 1 walked to the central seat and sat.

The others were already seated.

The chairs all reflected each mask wearer’s traits.

Naturally, no seat remained.

I was uninvited, after all.

“So, there’s no seat for me here?”

At my remark, the masked figures laughed.

“You have yet to earn the qualification to sit among us.”

“Hm. Seeking a seat before even presenting your Lineage?”

“Sit on the floor until the banquet ends. Your seat is nowhere here.”

Number 1’s eyes sparkled with amusement.

He seemed curious how I would react.

I understood.

At the Reaper’s Banquet, the place for me was not near that table.

“Then I shall sit *here*.”

The room had a single window.

At its center—like jagged spearheads—was a blaze of light.

I sat myself in that radiance.

A golden ram mask tilted.

“Without a chair?”

“No chair? Why, there is one—right here.”

“Hm…?”

At that moment—

FWHOOOOOM!

A torrent of light, even stronger than the sunlight flooding the window.

Resplendent. Divine.

【**Throne of the Most Radiant Light**】

A throne that raised dignity to the extreme—revealing itself in full glory.

A seat one creates for oneself.

And so I reclined upon the throne, resting my chin on my hand, gazing down at them—

Like an observer.

Or perhaps, like the rightful master of this hall.

So then—
Who is the *true* “Lineage”?

“…”
“…You’ve brought an amusing one.”

“Is he a jester? Golden Mask—did you hire him to mock us?”

“Well, there is no true Twelfth Lineage…”

The golden-mask bearers murmured among themselves.

He had walked to the window’s center—where the light fell strongest—and conjured a throne of pure radiance from nothing.

A throne so brilliant it hurt to look at.

A throne whose quality was unmistakable even at a glance.

‘A tempting throne…’
‘Unique-grade? But far beyond normal Unique quality.’
‘Hooh.’

Some couldn’t help admiring it.

Estimating its grade and marveling inwardly.

Others were simply captivated by its shimmering beauty.

But excitement didn’t last long.

No matter how extraordinary the throne—

This place was the Imperial Palace, where every “Lineage” gathered.

No one would dare such arrogance before them.

A city lord?
A king?

Not even close.

No one in the world—save them—could behave like that here.

Thus, the man’s life was effectively forfeit.

…Unless he truly *was* the guardian of an Lineage.

“At the very least, the ‘Three Swords’ staked their soul and life to swear it. That he is the *guardian* of the Twelfth Lineage.”

Cutting through their suspicion, Golden Mask added.

The Imperial Three Swords.

He affirmed that this black-goat-masked man had been acknowledged by them.

A small ripple of shock spread.

“The Three Swords?”
“The Three Swords… meaning Fox, your disciple?”

All gazes turned.

There sat the one wearing the golden fox mask.

A slender figure with long navy hair tied back, crossing their legs with leisurely poise.

A sword adorned with plum blossoms rested on their lap—gently stroked like a cat or puppy.

【Lv. ??】

…As expected.

I couldn’t see it.

The level.

The information.

The same was true for every wearer of a golden mask.

‘Strange.’

It bothered me.

Even with my Hidden Traits—Eternal Monarch’s Heart, Great Sage—

 

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