Chapter 104: Trait (2)

The world froze.

Not a metaphor.

The charging villain swinging his sword, the falling blood droplets, the scattering dust—everything stilled like a painting.

Sound vanished, leaving only silence.

Time didn’t actually stop.

I split and held a fleeting moment no one could perceive.

To others, it was as good as time stopping.

I controlled the density of this compressed time.

My Trait was recorded as mere acceleration, and this was why.

In this extreme time domain, I was the sole occupant.

Skill didn’t matter.

Talent, aptitude, compatibility—only those with all could perceive this realm.

Freedom within it required more.

Though my Trait created this, I wasn’t fully free.

Thinking at normal speed demanded immense energy, resisting insane pressure.

Moving here could kill ordinary humans—even most heroes—just by trying.

A realm harsher than space or the deep sea.

Yet I roused my senses, preparing.

The sword’s grip, faint air tremors, reflected light, the brush of air, the metallic scent of blood—all vivid.

I moved slowly.

Lowering my stance, I swung.

A sluggish, clumsy motion, but in this frozen world, impossibly fast.

Crack!—

My swing tore a rift in empty air.

A byproduct, a scar from twisting time.

Each swing widened the rift, increasing the energy and resistance I bore.

The sword carved long wounds through time and space, cutting the villains.

Time resumed.

The lead villain felt something off.

My sword, just at his left side, now stretched right.

He didn’t catch the swing.

The rifts around him—what were they?

Before they could answer—

Crunch!—

A jarring roar followed the sword’s path, unnatural for cutting flesh.

Red lines slashed across their bodies.

No dodging, no blocking—attacks from an imperceptible realm.

They couldn’t even question it.

The collapsing time rifts unleashed pent-up force, crushing them.

Boom!—

Dust settled. I grumbled, eyeing the chaos.

“This is why I didn’t want to use it.”

The area wasn’t just wrecked.

Sheathing the Purple Crystal Sword, fully absorbing the shock, I muttered.

“Ruins the environment.”

The villains and the mountain behind were flattened.

I stayed alert.

Doubted any survived, but better safe.

I checked each sprawled villain, poking knees and elbows with my scabbard.

If any rose with crushed joints—

That grit would earn respect.

None did.

I called the Association, gathering the villains.

Finishing cleanly, I approached Ji-an.

She sat limply.

“Took a bit over ten seconds.”

Crouching to her eye level, I asked?

“Keep going?”

“…No.”

In my compressed time, though less adept, her high skill let her glimpse it.

She realized what effort and pain it took to reach that realm.

And that I’d endured it.

She’d thought we fought as equals, holding back a killing blow like me.

A delusion.

I’d faced her gently, sincerely.

Recovered some, but not shameless enough to claim she could keep fighting.

Betrayed by her men, what kind of villain was she?

I nodded, relieved.

“Good. If you’d pushed, claiming you’re fine, I’d be annoyed.”

A sudden question hit.

“What about surrender?”

The Association didn’t know the situation.

If she surrendered now, I’d coordinate to lighten her sentence as much as possible.

She bit her lip.

Arrest was inevitable—she’d lost, as agreed.

But surrender was different.

She’d rather be caught as a villain than surrender.

It was about conviction.

Surrendering meant admitting her path was wrong.

She still didn’t see her dream’s actions as crimes.

I scratched my head, troubled, watching her bow silently.

“Persuasion’s always tough.”

I sat cross-legged on the ground.

“If I’m special to you, and you want to be special to me…”

I pointed at myself.

“Not what you want to give me.”

Then at her.

“Give what I want to receive.”

My first show of desire—her interest was natural.

“What do you want?”

“Not a criminal empire for world conquest.”

I rested my hands on my knees.

Short, firm, I said.

“Hope.”

Abstract, but my explanation gave it solid form.

“Hope that others can change like me, that I can change others.”

Her eyes widened.

What I needed most, only she could give.

She nearly said “Yes” but caught herself.

She bowed her head, hands fidgeting.

“That’s… unfair. That request… No, I can’t. I can’t stop. What you want is like death to me.”

“I see. No choice then.”

I gave up too easily.

She flinched, expecting more urging.

“If persuasion didn’t work…”

I should’ve been annoyed—her refusal, the stalled plan.

But I showed no displeasure.

“It’s my failure to earn your trust.”

Forcing will by strength was over.

Only my persuasion mattered now.

Force was meaningless.

Calm but sincere, I said.

“I’ll keep trying till I convince you.”

I hadn’t surrendered, but with her caught, time was plenty.

I knew it well.

I didn’t change from one plea.

With time and a far view, like I changed, she could too.

“I believe that.”

“Why…”

Her eyes welled up.

She’d lost completely.

Hearing me, her heart admitted defeat.

No strength or will left.

Too many words to say, yet only one came out.

“…I’ll do it.”

“What?”

She bowed lower.

“I’ll surrender.”

* * *

I nodded.

“Good choice. You can still stop, turn back.”

“…But even if I stop, I’ve nowhere to go. I’m alone.”

“Go home.”

“…What home? I’m completely alone.”

Maybe her biggest fear.

She’d run this far, believing I’d be by her side.

Everything she held was for moving forward—no thought of stopping or turning back.

Giving up her dream left her with nothing, no place, alone.

I wouldn’t abandon her, but I had my life, my people, my home.

A convict rotting in prison didn’t fit me.

Maybe just knowing she existed from afar.

“No.”

She looked up slowly at my denial.

I stood, back to the sun.

“I can help find one. And alone?”

I extended my hand.

“It’s two of us now.”

She reached out slowly.

Our hands met, and the tears she’d held back burst.

“Ugh, sob.”

She couldn’t stand it.

Instead, she pulled my hand, pressing her forehead to it, sobbing long.

Abandoning her decade-long dream felt, surprisingly, like liberation—joy and relief.

* * *

Thirty minutes later, dozens of helicopters arrived.

Hundreds of Association agents and heroes.

Despite their manpower shortage, my tip—even a third true—justified this force.

Stunned by the carnage, they quickly moved, organized.

Their job was simple: load the half-dead villains onto transports.

Ji-an was among them.

Given her danger and state, standard procedure demanded cuffs, rib-cage restraints, and a bell-shaped lock from shoulders to knees.

But—

“No way.”

I stood firm before the agent with cuffs.

“You’re obstructing arrest. Please cooperate.”

“Not saying don’t take her. No cuffs.”

“She’s a villain, S-rank or higher. These cuffs are already a special exception—”

“So what? She surrendered.”

“Even so, minimal restraints are required.”

I glared silently.

He trembled but held his ground.

“Haa.”

I frowned, thinking.

Not his fault—sticking to the manual was his job.

Deserved praise.

But no sense either.

Should I call higher-ups?

As I considered—

“Sir.”

Ji-an grabbed my arm, gently pushing me aside.

She held out her hands to the agent.

“It’s fine. I’m okay.”

“…Alright.”

I didn’t stop her.

The agent, briefly surprised, understood and cuffed her wrists.

The heavy, cold metal wasn’t pleasant.

But her heart was lighter.

“Thank you for cooperating.”

“She’s poisoned. Treat her first.”

That I wouldn’t budge on.

The agent checked the manual, nodding.

Following him to the transport, Ji-an looked back.

“Sir, you’ll visit, right?”

“Yeah. So stay put. Cause trouble, and we’re both locked up for life.”

I’d vouched for her.

If she messed up, I’d take the fall.

She grinned.

“That might be nice?”

Her ominous tone hardened my face.

“Kidding. I’ll go. Today’s tough, but tomorrow, right? For real?”

“Yeah.”

The villain-laden helicopters left, one remaining—my request.

The Association wanted me for debriefing, but I refused.

More urgent matters.

In the chopper’s back seat, I closed my eyes, touching my forehead.

Opening them, I asked the agent beside me.

“Got a motion sickness bag?”

We hadn’t taken off.

Briefly puzzled, he pulled a black plastic bag from under the seat.

I opened it, vomiting black blood.

Once, twice, three times.

A bucket’s worth later, I stopped.

Tying the bag, I set it aside.

“Kills me.”

Not exaggeration—sincere.

“Hospital?”

He realized why I’d ignored the Association.

Up close, he saw my state—barely better than the mangled villains.

I’d hidden it well.

I waved him off.

“Clington Academy.”

“What?”

Shocked, he stared.

I leaned back.

“Snuck out mid-exam. Gotta hurry.”

“What does—”

I closed my eyes, not explaining.

“I’m gonna catch hell.”

Said I’d come back unharmed.

He looked baffled but picked up the intercom.

Destination set, the pilot started the engine, taking off.

The chopper sped to Clington Academy.

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