I Acquire Overpowered Traits Just By Taking Damage

Even before the harbor had vanished from the horizon, a kind of sickness spread among most of the passengers. Noble and commoner alike clung to the railings and spewed into the sea whatever they had for breakfast.

At first, I was concerned—until I saw a few sailors silently chuckling at the sight. This was a common occurrence, apparently. Maybe it was the same sort of sickness I got when I first rode in a carriage as a kid.

Although, I must say, the motions here were subtle. The ship was large and only gently swayed with the waves. And while the smell of brine and wet wood wasn't pleasant, it shouldn't have caused such a reaction.

Oddly enough, I wasn't affected. The primary suspect was one of my traits—another one I hadn't even noticed I'd gained during my horrific experience in the river.

[Balance Compensation]

[Condition Met: Endure prolonged exposure to extreme disorientation.]

[Effect: Enhances bodily equilibrium. Negates motion-induced instability and improves physical steadiness in all environments]

It made sense. For a whole day I'd been nothing but a plaything to the wild current. That was the roughest ride I'd ever had.

And much to my relief, I wasn't in Edmund's shoes. He was one of the most miserable of the lot. I watched him repeatedly empty his stomach of the stew he'd eaten earlier. Pale, sweating, and trembling, he kept gagging even when there was nothing left but spit.

"I should've just married that hag…" he whimpered weakly, slumped against the railing, looking like he was about to cry. "If this keeps up, I'd rather jump overboard and drown."

I watched him retch again with a mix of pity and disgust. Unfortunately, the disgust outweighed the pity.

I sighed and turned from the sea.

There was a new scene on the deck: bright white light flashed like the glint of steel. A gray-haired man was moving among the sick passengers. Undoubtedly high-status—light affinity was rare, even among the high nobility.

But my attention was drawn elsewhere.

"What happened to you, the noble and mighty Master Edmund?" A young girl strutted toward us, chuckling at his misery.

Edmund raised his head and groaned, slapping his own face when he saw her. "I'd appreciate it if you left me alone, Lady Elena."

"All it takes to defeat you is a little sea? How pathetic! You brag about beating me with just a sword when I'm a water mage? I'm literally a walking sea!" She stopped right in front of him, smirking.

Her sharp tongue clashed with her appearance. She looked innocent, delicate—like a flower in her emerald gown. Deceptive. The innate magic of the opposite sex.

"A walking sea, huh," Edmund muttered with a weak smile. "You can't even cast a proper water bolt."

The girl laughed. "The last time you saw me was months ago. A lot has changed since then."

She lifted her hand, murmured a faint chant, and her blonde hair stirred though there was no wind. A bead of water formed in her palm, swelling until it was the size of an apple.

Edmund's smile vanished. Suddenly energized, he scrambled behind me.

"Protect me from this vile, evil girl, Lord Devon!"

Her palm followed Edmund's movements, and now the ball of water was aimed at my face. I doubted it would do much damage, but I didn't want to be drenched within the first hours of the voyage.

She knitted her brow, looking up at me. She was a head shorter, though if I had to guess, a year or two older.

"Are you… Lord Devon?"

I chuckled nervously, hands raised. "No, no, no… I'm just a baronet's son. He keeps calling me lord. I don't think he has the best grasp of our kingdom's customs."

She smirked at that and let the spell drop. "I agree, sir. He's crude and disrespectful… a shame to Sir Martin, who's a good man. You'd do well to find more reputable company."

"Why do you keep bringing my father up? Do you have a crush on him?" Edmund blurted from behind me.

The effect was immediate. The girl's face flushed red, and she raised her hand again. I suspected the water bolt was the only spell she knew. Probably only months since her awakening. Spells take long to learn, longer to master.

"I'll have my father throw you into the sea, you impudent—"

"I'm very sorry about this, my lady," I cut in quickly before she could splash me instead. "He's not right in the head, as you know. He's got the brains of a dumb bird and the morals of a rabid alley dog. It would be beneath you to waste time on him."

She glared at me for a few moments, breathing hard, before sighing and letting her hand drop.

"I suppose you're right. I'm a baron's daughter. I shouldn't waste attention on this lowlife."

"Baron's daughter?" I jumped at that. I'd thought Edmund calling her 'Lady' was just another one of his mistakes.

The girl smiled and pointed toward the man healing the sick. "Yes. I'm Baron Greylock's daughter. I'm sure you've heard of him."

"Yes… I think I did," I lied. I hadn't. Still, it was interesting. I hadn't expected a lord to join such a dangerous journey.

"You can take comfort in our presence, sir. I'm a water mage, a friend of the ocean, so you've nothing to fear from the waves. And my father, Lord Greylock, is a light mage—he can heal whatever disease may strike." She said it smugly.

While I doubted she could do much yet, her father would indeed be valuable. Even in my father's court we had only one healer. Light magic was rare, and even rarer outside priestly lines.

"And you, sir, who might you be?" she asked.

Thanks to the gold from killing greenskins, I'd repaired my brigandine and bought better clothes for my disguise. Since she addressed me as "sir," it seemed to be working.

"Devon, my lady… from somewhere you've probably never heard of." I gave a small bow.

"Nice to meet you, Master Devon. Yes, I don't think I've seen you around town," she replied. "Just a word of advice: find better company than Master, uhmm… Edmund."

Mid-sentence, her expression shifted. She swallowed heavily, then forced a nervous smile.

"You don't feel sick, Master Devon?" she asked.

"No… I don't. I'm used to traveling." I noticed her lips paling.

"I'm a water mage, so I should be immune to this… sickness," she muttered.

"Is that how water affinity works?" I asked.

She nodded, hesitated, then blurted, "Anyway, I must rejoin my father."

I watched her hurry across the deck toward him, moving like someone desperate for a privy.

The ship rocked gently, not enough to knock anyone over. She stumbled, steadied herself… then suddenly convulsed and vomited all over the deck.

Edmund erupted in laughter—before leaning over the railing to vomit again himself.