I Start with 13 Hidden Traits Chapter-263

Ch-263. **Hidden Talisman Cube**

—

The Imperial Palace.

Golden Mask sought out Raiga, who was gripping his sword in the training grounds, and spat out a curse the moment he arrived.

“Raiga, have you lost your mind?”

“And have *you* lost yours? Swearing in a sacred training ground?”

*Grit!*

At Raiga’s utterly unchanged expression, Golden Mask ground his teeth.

“…Why did you let the Goddess Church participate in the tournament?”

It had been a competition restricted strictly to imperial citizens.

Then, without any consultation, the regulations were suddenly changed and the range of eligible participants was vastly expanded.

Raiga had intervened so that *any human in Pangaenia* could participate.

The scale of the tournament had even doubled.

This was the sort of decision that should have required formal approval through a council.

“Read the recruitment guidelines I wrote more carefully. Anyone with talent and practical worth will be selected widely. That was the tournament’s purpose from the very beginning, wasn’t it?”

“You call that an explanation…?”

Murderous intent flared in Golden Mask’s eyes.

Every time he spoke with Raiga, the conversation went off the rails.

His blood pressure spiked every single time.

The Goddess Church and the Reaper Cult were oil and water—entities that could never mix.

And the Empire was an unimaginably closed society.

It had to be.

The Emperor was asleep, all manner of brutal experiments were being conducted openly, and the Empire harbored countless secrets—secrets that only *they* were meant to know, secrets no one else in Pangaenia was ever supposed to uncover.

Naturally, allowing many outsiders into the Empire or the Imperial Palace risked exposing those secrets.

And yet…

Raiga chose *this moment*—when most of the Reaper Cult’s executives had left the Empire in search of the **Golden Spirit King**—to pull something like this.

“I’m saying it plainly. There’s no one in this Empire fit to succeed me.”

Raiga, however, could not back down.

There was a reason he couldn’t.

Though he concealed it well, Raiga was slowly dying.

*There’s no way to heal my internal injuries.*

The side effects of opening every gate and stacking countless blessings.

A **fatal curse**.

His internal organs were twisting, and his source energy was steadily drying up.

This was his desperate struggle to ensure the succession of the **Fang** before an inescapable curse claimed him.

“…You’ll search for a successor to Fang regardless of nation or religion? You’ll accept anything, so long as there’s talent?”

“Golden Mask. It’s been a while since you spoke sense.”

“Even if that talent belongs to a priest of the Goddess Church?”

“Yes. I don’t care.”

*Crunch!*

“You bastard… stop the tournament at once—”

“Take it.”

*Toss.*

Raiga pulled something from his robes and threw it to Golden Mask.

The moment Golden Mask caught it, his gaze warped subtly.

“…This is?”

“The **Heart of Pride**.”

The Pride Demon.

The heart he had obtained through a wager with that demon.

A treasure of immeasurable value—capable of controlling the Pride Demon itself.

To hold the tournament properly, even Raiga had to offer something precious.

Golden Mask asked, puzzled,

“Why go this far?”

“Because I’m thirsty.”

“…What?”

“I’m unbearably thirsty.”

There were things one only realized when standing at death’s door.

The wall between life and death.

A thirst to cross that wall.

Raiga had reached his limit.

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t find a way through.

He had honed his martial prowess through every form of training imaginable—but there was one thing he had never done.

*Raise a disciple.*

That was it.

To give everything without reserve, to teach, and through that process, to look back upon oneself anew.

For that, he needed an exceptional disciple.

Raising a disciple was Raiga’s final, lingering **regret**.

That was why he was forcing the tournament through, even at the cost of the Heart of Pride.

“Golden Mask. If you don’t want the Goddess Church to place high, then put someone capable into the tournament yourself. Even if they’re your people, I’ll take them in if they have talent.”

“…Very well. I’ll do so.”

Golden Mask turned away, responding as such.

He had realized that trying to stop this by force would only fracture the Empire.

If it couldn’t be stopped, then—as Raiga said—all that remained was to prevent outsiders from placing high.

The best method was simple: have *his own* people win and become the successor of Fang.

If one held Fang, it was little different from holding the Empire itself.

—

—

“If you leave even a scratch on this rock, you pass!”

The recruiter shouted while looking over the hundreds of applicants gathered at the tent.

Two men soon followed, straining as they hauled in a massive boulder.

At first glance it looked like an ordinary rock, but the moment I saw it, I knew exactly what it was.

*Celestial Stone.*

A stone similar to the Celestial Stones I’d seen on the Mountain of Trainees.

Hadn’t I shattered a cursed Celestial Stone and resurrected Baal that time?

To leave a scratch on a cursed Celestial Stone required **penetration power**.

So was this a test to see whether one possessed penetration?

As information appeared before my eyes, I nodded inwardly.

【Solid Celestial Stone】
– A stone that nullifies all attacks below a certain stat threshold.
– Ignores strikes with a total stat value of 350 or less.

So you could leave a mark depending on your total stats.

Strength, Agility, Stamina, Intelligence, Mana.

To pass, all five stats would need to average at least 70.

In other words, they wanted participants of **level 7 or higher** with fully invested stats.

Level 7 was already the level of an elite knight.

“This is nothing!”

A muscular man at the front stepped forward confidently.

He threw a full-powered straight punch.

*Boom!*

“Aaagh!”

With a heavy sound, the man rolled across the ground.

The stone bore not even a single scratch.

“…Looks tougher than expected, huh?”

“Or is that guy just weak?”

The people behind him sneered at the man writhing on the ground.

Then they stepped up confidently themselves.

“Guhk!”

“What—what is this?! Why is it so hard?!”

Failures followed one after another.

A total stat value of 350 was not easy to reach.

Even if level 7 was theoretically enough, fully investing stats while leveling was no simple feat.

“Looks like the holy capital isn’t all that impressive.”

“Maybe one in fifty.”

The recruiters muttered quietly.

Anyone truly skilled had already applied earlier—this last-minute recruitment was little more than killing time.

At best, only one out of every fifty managed to leave a scratch.

“Next!”

At last, it was my turn.

The recruiters’ gazes held no expectation.

In fact, everyone there looked at me the same way.

“Don’t waste time—move it along.”

“He’s scrawny.”

“The result’s obvious.”

They all looked as if my failure was already decided.

And to be fair, it made sense.

*I’m a bit short on stats too.*

My current total stats were also below 350.

The level I’d gained through the trials on the Divine Island was 4.

My total stats were 324.

Absurdly high for my level—but still not enough to reach 350.

*My pure stats are lacking.*

Of course, that was only in terms of **base stats by level**.

If equipment or tools added extra stats, the story could change.

To make up the missing 26 stats would require equipment or tools—

Something impossible without at least Unique or Mythical grade gear.

Randolph’s equipment couldn’t be shared in this situation.

*…But there was something that *was* shared.*

This necklace.

The necklace bearing the **Broken Spear of Longinus** was shared between Randolph and me.

*The Primordial Armor.*

The Primordial Armor that had transformed into a necklace.

Well, to support something like the Broken Spear of Longinus—an item capable of dimensional travel—it made sense that something on the level of the Primordial Armor was required.

And that wasn’t all.

*The Hidden Talisman Cube, and other privileges.*

Just as the protective barrier was shared, other **privileges** were shared as well.

Shops like the Golden Scale e Shop and the Privilege Shop.

The Talisman Cube was a privilege obtained from Main Quest 11, so of course it was shared.

And once the Primordial Armor and the Hidden Talisman Cube were shared, the **talismans** stored inside the cube were also linked.

*The Celestial Whale Talisman!*

One of the rewards from Main Quest 11.

Perhaps the most important reward of all.

When equipped to the Primordial Armor, it granted a **1.5x amplification** to abilities.

I smiled faintly.

Then, standing before the stone, I lightly threw a straight punch.

*KRAAANG!*

—

—

 

Raiga gazed at the sword in his hand.

Even breathing was painful, yet he never failed to swing his blade even for a single day.

For him, it was a perfectly ordinary routine.

Normally, he would sink into a state of empty-minded focus.

But—

*I’m looking forward to this.*

With the tournament drawing near, he couldn’t clear his stray thoughts.

He was already anticipating what kind of talent might appear.

But would anyone truly satisfy him?

He had seen countless so-called geniuses over the years, yet never once had he been drawn in by their talent.

They were all inferior to him.

Each had their strengths, but none were complete, satisfying prodigies—none but himself.

Still, since recruitment spanned all of Pangaenia, he couldn’t help but feel a flicker of expectation.

The criteria for talent had already been set.

For example, leaving a scratch on the **Solid Celestial Stone**.

*It looks easy, but it isn’t.*

It tested the minimum requirements.

In other words, minimum level.

But that was merely the **visible condition**.

*A total stat value of 350—or scratching it through special means.*

Even with lower stats or a lower level, it was entirely possible to leave a mark.

With penetration, reflection, exploiting elemental contrasts like water against earth…

There were many methods.

He hadn’t restricted *how* the scratch was made.

*All I want is talent.*

Level and stats didn’t matter.

If conditions were lacking, adaptability to solve the problem would suffice.

The ability to overcome obstacles itself was talent.

That was what this test sought to uncover.

The tournament was the same.

If it were merely about strength, a transcendent would win without question.

The one criterion he desired was singular.

*Talent that can surpass limits.*

He wanted a genius who could break through predetermined ceilings.

That was why the tournament was divided by level.

The Reaper Cult’s **archangel** would handle assessing and sorting levels.

All Raiga had to do was see whether the material he wanted appeared.

Raw combat strength mattered—but it wasn’t everything.

Any lack in level or stats, he could personally make up for.

“Disciples…”

Raiga took a deep breath.

His heart throbbed painfully.

Even if death was close, he would not take just anyone as a disciple.

If no one met his standards, he would boldly let the Fang line end with him.

He had no intention whatsoever of letting a mediocre successor inherit Fang.

The previous Fang masters would have felt the same.

He would never allow such a sight—even in death.

But—

If an overwhelming genius appeared, one who truly satisfied him…

*I will pass on everything I have.*

…

 

 

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