I Acquire Overpowered Traits Just By Taking Damage

I expected the days back on the ship to drag long and tedious, just like before our one-day stopover at Lacquer.

But somehow, the universe conspired to spare me from too much boredom when the voyage resumed.

Clifford had an odd collection of books—aptly reflecting his odd character.

I even ended up reading the one about a love story between a priest and a demon in disguise. I went into it with low expectations but was pleasantly surprised that it was actually a decent work. The prose was a bit highfalutin and convoluted, like the author was stretching every sentence to churn out as many words as possible just to satisfy a quota. But beneath all that padding was a tale entertaining enough to keep me occupied for an entire day.

By the end of it, I had apparently learned three things: never trust women whose reflections don't appear in mirrors, who insist on talking for more than three hours straight, and who show no interest in cheese.

That wasn't the only book Clifford had with the supernatural at its center.

The next one I picked up followed two demon hunters—brothers by the name of Jensen and Jared. And suddenly I realized this was where Clifford had gotten his strange ideas about stabbing demons with silver knives or pelting them with garlic bulbs.

At first, it was actually entertaining. The opening chapters had them hunting all sorts of bizarre creatures: demons, bloodsuckers, ghosts. But the further it went, the more ridiculous it became. By the end of the novel, the two brothers had been revealed to be demigods, had met the gods themselves, and even gotten tangled up in a divine war.

Still, it managed to keep me preoccupied for a good two days.

There were a dozen more books waiting on the list, and I hoped they'd be enough to last me until the next stopover. I made a mental note to remember to buy more once we got there—books I'd actually like, this time.

Of course, I didn't plan to stop at books. The purse of fifty gold coins I had received from the baron could buy me nearly anything I wanted. Thinking of items I could purchase—preferably ones useful for the wild, uncharted lands of Enasses—became another way I entertained myself during the dead hours on board.

And then there was my unlimited access to the cargo hold.

To his credit, the prince, even after the falling out, had not been ungenerous with the provisions allotted to us. The supplies were not only abundant, but also varied, with even a few luxurious and exotic food items mixed in.

The "unlimited" part of the unlimited access actually held true. Since I would feel bad hoarding tasty food for myself, I usually fetched portions fit for two people—three, if Edmund showed up. The ship's purser never complained. He simply guided me to where the prince's provisions were stored and told me to take whatever I wanted. That said, I didn't push my luck by grabbing outrageous amounts.

For a while, we ate like kings, and it was enough to make the rest of the mess hall look at us with envy. It wouldn't last, of course. By the end of the first week, all the fresh, rich food would spoil, leaving nothing but the same bland rations everyone else endured. But until then, I made sure to enjoy every bite.

All in all, I was fairly satisfied with the days that followed our stopover.

Would I have liked them to be more eventful than just reading and eating? Of course. And eventful they became. Just not in the way I would have wanted. Things never did go the way I wanted—or even expected.

"Elena isn't eating," Edmund suddenly blurted out one evening during our fourth dinner since Lacquer.

It had been days now that he hadn't seemed like himself. For all his usual bickering with the lady, he did seem to care for her beneath the surface.

"What do you mean?" I asked. Loss of appetite after trauma was normal, but it had been days since the battle.

"She's distraught…" Edmund sighed, massaging his eyes. "Her father's growing worse every day."

The image of the pale baron flashed back in my mind. Mana exhaustion. A condition usually remedied by rest and sustenance. Unless, of course…

"The drain was worse than we thought," Edmund said grimly, using the alternative term. "Rest is doing nothing. His health is declining fast. Just yesterday he was already struggling to speak, drifting in and out of consciousness."

"I did see him going way overboard with his magic," Clifford added. "When we were charging down the slope toward the river, he was casting spell after spell without any regard for his reserves."

I didn't know what to say. Mana exhaustion was one of those conditions that was easy to avoid, yet devastating if ignored. It could leave permanent damage to a mage—complete loss of magical ability in some cases, even death.

"Why haven't we turned back, then?" Clifford asked.

"Have you forgotten the prince doesn't want us returning?" Edmund shot back. "And Lacquer is already too far away. Sir Lawrence says there's a port only a day ahead. We'll make another stopover."

At that, my worry about Lord Greylock eased a little. Once we reached land, it would be simple enough to buy potions or hire healers and physicians.

My thoughts wandered immediately to the prospect of stepping off the ship again. Away from the endless blue and the constant sound of waves, back to green grass and the soothing rustle of leaves. Depending on the treatment, we might even get more than a single day on land.

And that meant time to spend some of my fifty gold coins. I was already mentally reviewing the list of things I wanted to buy.

I went to sleep excited that night.

That excitement didn't last.

It was extinguished by the news of the baron's death the next morning.