Translator: CinderTL
[Trait: Soul Stealing]
[Your psionic energy extends like a spiderweb, condensing into invisible, spectral tentacles. When they silently entwine a target's consciousness, you can steal and occupy one of their innate traits. However, the success of this theft depends entirely on the strength and precision of your own psionic energy. Only when your psionic energy is sufficiently powerful can it pierce through the target's mental defenses like a precise probe, retrieving and stripping away the desired trait from the depths of their soul.]
[It could be the muscle memory of a warrior's decade of sword training, flowing into your arms like a warm current; it could be the obscure knowledge a scholar has unearthed from ancient texts, unfolding as a clear picture in your mind; or even a low-tier spell model a mage is currently constructing, its swirling rune trajectories instantly becoming yours to command.]
[However, every theft comes with a price. For the brief time the stolen trait flows through your bloodline, you will passively bear the burden of the target's emotional residue, like a vessel.]
[Perhaps the original owner's suppressed rage will sear your reason like hot oil; perhaps a sudden wave of grief will make your heart ache with heaviness; or perhaps a beast-like hunting instinct will drive your limbs.]
"Steal the light, and you must accept the shadow that follows."
"Spirit soul stealing?"
As the information flashed through his mind, even Roland's composure wavered, and his breath hitched.
The potential and sheer dominance of this trait far exceeded any ability he had ever acquired.
It bypassed the grueling years of study and practice required for conventional learning, striking directly at the core essence of power:
Plunder.
Imagine, in the heat of a life-or-death struggle, instantly stealing an opponent's most relied-upon combat instinct, leaving their swordplay sluggish while you move as if forged in a thousand battles.
While exploring ancient ruins, directly extracting forbidden knowledge from a guardian's consciousness.
Even against a mage, at the very moment their spell is about to take shape, you could seize its model for yourself—using their own technique to defeat them...
This was no longer simple imitation or learning. This was the most direct, most arrogant form of "possession."
It instantly transformed others' achievements into your own sustenance—a growth shortcut that could only be described as heaven-defying.
Possessing this ability meant that a shortcut to countless knowledge, skills, and experiences lay open before Roland, its value immeasurable.
However, extreme power always came with equal risks and limitations.
After the initial surge of euphoria, Roland quickly calmed down, keenly sensing the harsh conditions and heavy price hidden behind this trait.
First, Soul Stealing was not omnipotent.
It relied strictly on the strength and precision of his own psionic energy.
Trying to strip a core trait from the soul of a powerhouse with a will like steel and an impenetrable mental barrier would undoubtedly be as futile as an ant trying to topple a giant tree.
If his psionic energy was not powerful or refined enough, not only would he fail, but he might even suffer a terrible backlash.
This meant he could not act recklessly; the strength of his target and the value of the trait had to be commensurate with his own abilities.
Second was the unavoidable "emotional residue."
To carry someone else's trait meant simultaneously accepting the most intense emotional imprints attached to it—the original owner's rage, sorrow, fear, greed...
These torrents of foreign emotion would wash over his mind in an instant.
If one's own will is not firm enough, they might even lose themselves within it, leading to cognitive chaos.
This was undoubtedly an internal trap that had to be constantly guarded against when wielding this strength.
A powerful gift, and a dangerous contract...
Roland understood in his heart.
This trait granted him the possibility to plunder all things, yet it also demanded that he possess the mental fortitude and strength to wield it, while always being prepared to pay that unique and eerie "price."
Just as Roland was immersed in weighing the power and cost of [Soul Stealing], the cold characters in his field of vision refreshed like a waterfall once again, without the slightest warning.
[Detected host possesses trait: Time Traveler...]
[Beginning deep trait resonance analysis...]
[Analyzing...]
[Detected abnormal fate trajectory...]
[Detected high-dimensional causal perturbation residue...]
[Conducting trait derivation based on current soul substrate and trait compatibility...]
[Derivation complete]
[Acquired trait: Fate Deviation]
[Trait: Fate Deviation]
[You can perceive, with a mortal's eyes, the silver web of possibilities flowing between all things—those "Threads of Probability" as thin yet resilient as spider silk. This is not creation, but guidance; not tampering, but weaving.]
[The instant an arrow is released, you see seventeen possible trajectories. All you need to do is gently pluck the silver thread that happens to pass through the gap in the armor, letting the arrow that should have missed "coincidentally" find the most vulnerable point of entry. When an iron door bars pursuers, you need only select, from ten million possibilities of rust, the single moment the latch happens to jam.]
[But each seemingly coincidental intervention is a struggle against the very foundations of the world. Every time you pull a thread of probability, your soul bears a corresponding weight, like gripping a red-hot iron chain with bare hands. Your spirit becomes riddled with holes through repeated weavings. More dangerous still, this manipulation of fate's fabric is like tossing a stone into a silent, deep pool.]
[The ripples will spread far, far away, until they disturb those unnamable existence slumbering in the folds of reality.]
"[Fate Deviation]."
This trait was practically forged to be the ultimate tool for turning the tides in a desperate situation.
Roland quickly realized that while this ability couldn't grant him world-shattering strength directly, it could turn the impossible into the possible at critical moments, amplifying a tiny probability into an absolute reality.
Whether in a life-or-death battle or a complex, multi-layered scheme, the strategic value of this power to glimpse and guide "possibility" was immeasurable.
Of course, the warning about "soul pressure" and the risk of alerting an "unnamable existence" also made him wary.
This power had to be kept as a trump card, used with the utmost caution.
Just as he was lost in analysis—
Tap... Tap...
A faint but distinct sound of footsteps abruptly broke the dead silence deep within the mine tunnel, rapidly approaching from afar.
In an instant, the footsteps stopped at the cave entrance.
Immediately after, Durga's familiar figure appeared in the doorway. His sharp gaze swept over the mind flayer, which was still convulsing in pain, bound by chains, before finally landing on Roland.
"Well, old friend?"
He asked in a gruff voice, his tone laced with undisguised impatience.
"Did you pry that bastard's mouth open?"
Roland gave a slight nod.
"Of course."
Hearing this, a smile—a mixture of satisfaction and ruthlessness—immediately spread across Durga's face. He clapped Roland on the shoulder and praised him gruffly.
"Nicely done!"
"So..."
Roland looked at Durga and asked directly.
"What do you want to know from it?"
Hearing this, Durga raised his thick eyebrows in surprise, then shook his head and said with a hint of mockery.
"Hey, pal, you've forgotten quite a lot."
"Besides their disgusting tentacles and vile psionic energy, what's the most valuable and coveted thing these damn octopus-headed bastard possess?"
He paused, his eyes gleaming with undisguised greed and longing. He lowered his voice, speaking each word deliberately.
"The shell ship, of course!"
(End of the Chapter)
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