False Name Imprint
I sprinted endlessly down what felt like an infinite passage with Fenrir at my side.
"Fenrir, veer right and jump immediately! Then straight left!"
Before long, a faint streak of light appeared far in the distance.
And within that light, the altar—our destination—finally came into view.
I'd seen it in the game, but for an altar housing a special-grade trait, it was disappointingly underwhelming.
Hundreds of candles surrounded it, sure, but overall, it looked worn and shabby.
If I hadn't known it held a special-grade trait, I might've turned back ages ago.
I hadn't timed it exactly, but we'd dodged traps for at least an hour to reach this place—and all we got was this pathetic altar?
In the game, it was described with some grand, epic atmosphere despite its looks.
But in reality? It was just a pile of rocks.
That opinion started changing as we drew closer, though.
The hundreds of candles encircling the shabby altar weren't ordinary flames.
Depending on the viewing angle, where your gaze lingered, they flickered in different colors, shifted sizes, and danced in eerie patterns.
As if the altar itself were a living, breathing mass of colossal energy.
This must be the effect of the False Name Imprint trait.
When we finally stepped out of the passage and stood before the altar, I found myself staring at it in a daze, unable to look away.
Even knowing it was the trait's influence, I couldn't resist being drawn into its overwhelming presence.
Built from rough stones, yet up close, it exuded a more intimidating and sacred aura than any ornate altar.
Snapping out of it, I noticed a peculiar stone tablet at the altar's peak.
In the game, touching that tablet alone granted the trait automatically...
But... it's way higher up than I thought.
The altar was a cramped stack of stones layered precariously high.
Even riding Fenrir up didn't look feasible—no footholds in sight.
In the game, you just stood in front of it, got a prompt like [Touch the stone tablet?], and clicked 'Yes'...
These are real rocks. No way I have to free-climb this thing.
The game's convenient system didn't exist here.
All that lay before me were cold, unforgiving stones of reality.
Still, no choice but to do it.
Turning back after coming this far wasn't an option.
The stones were piled like a massive staircase, narrowing higher up.
Structurally, it didn't seem too tough to climb—but that insane height was the problem.
Looks about as tall as five or six stories...
I had to crane my neck all the way back just to glimpse the tablet at the top.
"Ha..."
With a deep sigh, I grabbed the rough stones and started climbing.
Every step made my limbs tremble, my low stamina stat leaving me gasping for air.
"Hah... hah... Shouldn't have dumped everything into Charisma... needed some in Stamina too..."
Truth be told, Stamina 10 wasn't so low I'd tire this quickly from a climb like this.
But after over an hour dodging traps, my reserves were drained. Muscles screamed after just a short ascent.
As I struggled upward, a cool breeze suddenly swept in, lightening my body.
Huh? What's this... my body feels...
"Awooooo~"
Glancing down, Fenrir wagged his tail, gazing up at me.
A gentle wind swirled around him, reaching me and invigorating my weary body.
He can share his wind as a buff to others?
Fenrir's potential is even greater than I thought.
Even among mid-grade spirit beasts, individuals vary wildly in talent. Control like this—extending his ability to others—meant...
Reaching superior grade was just a matter of time.
"Thanks, Fenrir."
Once I'm down, gotta pet him good... He's a wolf, but dogs love that stuff, right?
With Fenrir's help, climbing became far easier, and soon the tablet loomed before me.
Finally. Special-grade trait: False Name Imprint.
The tablet bore strange patterns like a magic circle.
"Touching this should grant the ability."
I reached out without hesitation.
Whoosh!
The patterns erupted in blinding light, surging up my arm.
They crawled across my skin, absorbing into my body, imprinting the False Name Imprint's knowledge in my mind instantly.
"Urk!"
Pain like a spike through my brain flooded me with information all at once.
The shock blurred my vision; my body tilted backward.
As I plummeted into empty air, Fenrir's sharp howl echoed.
A powerful whirlwind rose from below, cushioning my fall gently.
Like invisible giant hands catching me, my descent slowed to a stop.
"Hah... hah..."
My feet hit the ground, but my head still rang.
I stroked Fenrir's worried head.
"Thanks. I'd be in real trouble without you."
Grrr...
Fenrir rubbed his head against my hand with a satisfied rumble.
That was close...
I hadn't expected the trait's info to imprint so painfully.
Can't think purely in game terms anymore.
Even if the game's system had become reality, experiencing it firsthand showed so many differences.
I'd need to be more cautious from now on.
Game knowledge could manifest entirely differently here.
Still, the perilous ordeal yielded a priceless reward.
With the trait acquired, a new "Trait" slot appeared under Supernatural Ability.
Though every detail of False Name Imprint was already etched perfectly in my mind, habit made me double-check.
False Name Imprint
Rank: Special Grade
All actions are perceived by surrounding targets as possessing greater meaning and depth than imagined.
A disarmingly brief description for a special-grade trait.
But I wasn't disappointed.
The imprinted knowledge had already shown me its true power.
Yeah, no wonder it's underrated in the game.
You couldn't grasp this trait's value from raw stats or surface-level text alone.
It only shone in reality, amplified by others' perceptions.
It felt like the game devs had designed it with someone like me—a possessor—in mind.
False Name Imprint didn't boost physical stats.
Instead, it imbued even a casual word, glance, or gesture with profound meaning and weight.
How incredible was that?
For instance, suppose I swung a sword playfully, with zero training.
If a swordmaster who'd honed his craft for decades watched?
He might see the 'essence of the blade' or 'truth of all things' in my clumsy swing—gaining enlightenment to shatter his long-stuck wall.
All because I just flailed around thoughtlessly!
Or a offhand joke I tossed out could strike a listener as a fateful prophecy awaited for centuries, upending their entire life.
To me, it was meaningless banter!
And the scariest part? It wasn't an active skill.
It was passive—always on.
Whether I intended it or not, just breathing and acting made others project meaning onto me, deluding themselves.
For me—weak, needing to bluff strength, gather game opportunities, acquire key abilities—I'd have to take baffling, inexplicable actions in others' eyes.
With False Name Imprint?
Whatever I did, others would interpret it as profound and legendary on their own.
No need to explain or justify—just forge my path.
In a strange world brimming with powerhouses, every trivial move repackaged as extraordinary through this trait...
This should get me through most crises.
Finishing my grasp of the trait, I suddenly felt the surroundings quake.
The altar's overwhelming aura destabilized; space itself warped.
Stones rained from the ceiling; pillars groaned ominously.
What... the hell? Why now?
Panicking at first, intuition hit: acquiring the trait fulfilled the 'opportunity trigger,' collapsing the temporary space.
My body floated as if lifted; vision bleached white.
Opening my eyes, I was back in the library.
Faint moonlight filtered through windows, illuminating the shelves.
Time to head back.
I slipped quietly out the library door.
Padding cautiously down the familiar corridor, no patrolling knights or awake servants at this late hour. Good.
Reaching my room, I eased the door open and stepped inside—tension shattered, exhaustion crashing over me.
Every ounce of energy drained away.
No strength left to fight it. I staggered to bed.
The moment I collapsed, consciousness snapped—plunging into deep sleep.