Something's Off About This Trait
Something feels off about this trait. *** And so the test they wanted to run was nothing major—just checking how I could utilize or adapt the 'vehicles' I'd absorbed.
Well, to be more precise, it was about whether I could freely control the absorbed vehicles and equipment.
Oddly enough, the vehicles—or more accurately, the mechanical equipment—that I pulled from my body responded perfectly to my commands for 10 to 30 seconds.
But once that time passed, it was like someone yanked the batteries out of the remote—my control cut off sharp as a knife!
Still, everyone saw this coming, so it wasn't surprising. But Section Chief Sin and the research team insisted on running the full experiment anyway. When I tilted my head in confusion at their determination,
Chief Sin explained, "Sometimes, if it's something you've summoned yourself, you can dominate it permanently."
"Oh... really? Traits like that exist?"
"Yeah, it's common with EX-rank necromancers, dominators, summoners, that whole category. Not always a problem, so we have to test everything first."
"Ah."
He nodded like there was always a reason for these tests, so I figured, fair enough, and decided to just blank my mind and go through the motions obediently.
Of course, actually blanking out would've led to accidents and wrecked all the gear I'd absorbed, so I had to snap back to focus pretty quick.
Even after diligently running those tests, time dragged on awkwardly.
"Hmm, Saeron, you got a license?"
"Just a Class 2 ordinary. I was basic infantry in the army too."
"So you're a BMW owner!"
"Pardon?"
"You don't know? Bus, Metro, Walking!"
"Ah, haha."
"Anyway, the reason I asked is to see if you can operate the equipment you've absorbed directly. That's what we're testing."
Chief Sin and the researchers, having seen me freely manipulate the armored vehicles, excavators, and such while mounted on my body, now wanted to check if I could control them even when fully deployed outside.
Unfortunately, whether fused to my body or deployed, they were treated as a literal extension of myself...
-Thud!
Vrrr!
"Ugh."
"How's it feel, Saeron?"
"Hmm, before it was like moving my own limbs—no real 'control' needed. But like this? Nothing."
"Seems the equipment's controls aren't wired into your head."
"Fascinating."
They told me to give it a shot, so I hopped on the armored vehicle, had no clue how to drive it, and smashed it straight into the wall. Or messed up on a perfectly fine excavator, splitting its massive arm into three neat segments.
At this rate, I'd be the one demolishing the entire underground training ground, so Chief Sin called it sufficient and had me dismount.
Anyway, while killing time with all those extra tests, the other researchers finished testing mana shield penetration with the weaponry I'd deployed.
Plus, the medium crane—the first heavy machine I'd wrecked upon arrival—had finally auto-repaired.
Now I could finally exhale in relief that the marathon of tests was over.
As I sank into my seat with a deep sigh, Chief Sin waddled over in his compact frame, plopping down a stack of test records and beaming with excitement.
The only issue? His chattering "fascinating" vibe felt exactly like science nerds dropping science puns—or those PhD eggheads in alien invasion flicks making one ridiculous blunder after another.
It hit me then why Deputy Director Kim Aran had kept her distance yesterday, just dropping her piece and spectating with arms crossed unless needed. And why she skipped today entirely.
About 10 minutes into this mental time-out,
"...which is why, if we play it right, the government might fast-track you straight into the Management Bureau as a hunter!"
"Uh, come again?"
"I mentioned earlier—the weapons you absorb and deploy let even regular folks pierce mana shields!"
"Ooooh..."
A proper summary at last—I leaned in closer.
Of course, given the status window, Tower, and dungeon mechanics' tendency for subtle 'game balance,'
"But they don't hold permanently."
"Well, the ammo sustains that power. Once it's gone, what's the point?"
"Not that, Saeron. The energy in the guns and ammo you provided dissipates over time."
"Aha."
Sure enough, firearms and ammo pulled from my body gradually lost their mana shield-piercing power as time passed.
And it wasn't just ammo—even the equipment itself, regardless of size, followed the same timeline.
"Such a shame. I told a buddy in the military, and he was gutted."
"Ah, um."
"Could've turned our entire army into a monster- and magic-proof juggernaut."
"Oof..."
That sounded profoundly ominous. I steered the topic away to dodge the dangerous turn—naturally, to the equipment slot expansion, my top priority. Or more precisely, advice on trait level-up.
But on this crucial point, Chief Sin and the team looked downright reluctant.
They had their reasons, of course.
"Can't be helped. EX-ranks don't follow fixed patterns like lower grades."
"Really? But level-ups are always about grinding XP, right?"
"That's the problem—we don't know how it accumulates XP."
"Hmm?"
"You said you cleared up to floor 12 in the Tower, killing plenty of monsters, but no level-up at all."
"Yeah."
His expression turned grave, tapping the table as he continued.
"Hunter traits gain XP slower at higher ranks, sure."
"Oh."
"Even accounting for that, your growth is abnormally sluggish."
I leaned forward, fully focused. He cleared his throat and went on.
"Comparing to our other EX-rank Bureau hunter, you should've hit at least level 5 by now."
"..."
"So right now, we have zero clue how your trait levels up."
"..."
His unexpected bombshell left me in a weird, unsettled mood.