I Became A Thief Who Steals Overpowered Skills - Chapter 11

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 11. The Third Brother

Krashue stood motionless after obliterating the Mok Cheon Giant with a single strike of Ilgeom.

More precisely, he could do nothing but stand still.

Ilgeom was a single sword stroke executed at the pinnacle of Shingeom Hapil—Divine Sword Unity.

And that one stroke demanded the entirety of his being.

So Krashue had poured everything into it—his Aura, his mind, his body’s reserves.

Without such commitment, he could not even wield Ilgeom at all.

The result was that even the briefest closing of his eyes felt like consciousness would scatter to the wind.

Anix couldn’t move, pinned by Krashue’s stare, but the reality was that Krashue couldn’t even blink.

‘A mistake.’

He’d been planning to lay groundwork to steal the Skill.

But with his lips unable to move even slightly, there was no way forward.

“Krashue.”

In that moment, Bianca’s voice came drifting from somewhere.

She’d poked her head out from behind Krashue’s back.

Then she scanned him up and down.

“Can’t move?”

Krashue had no breath left to answer.

Bianca simply watched the sweat trickling down his forehead and made her judgment.

Then, without warning, she wrapped her arms around his waist and hoisted him up.

“Nngh!”

That movement sent a sharp pain through Krashue as if his bones would shatter, and consciousness fled.

It was Bianca who had knocked Krashue down, practically speaking.

She struggled to carry his limp form away.

But Bianca, smaller even than Krashue, was outmatched.

“Here, I’ll help.”

Just then, Darling appeared from nowhere and approached.

As she moved to support Krashue, Bianca quickly handed him over, seeming relieved to be rid of the burden.

Watching this exchange, Darling blinked once.

Wasn’t this girl supposed to be Krashue’s fiancée?

Even if she was still young, for her to hand Krashue over to Darling without a shred of jealousy was remarkable.

Darling, who’d been laughing in bewilderment for a moment, shifted her steps while carrying him.

At that, the gazes of the nobles who had crowded toward the terrace converged in an instant.

‘When this little one wakes up, she’s going to be quite the celebrity.’

Whether it was audacity or thoughtlessness, Darling couldn’t quite say.

‘Will the rumors of the Half-Penny beat this? Will the latest gossip of the Half-Penny hatching from her shell beat it?’

Either way, Darling smiled at the amusing outcome, though Anix flickered across her vision.

Anix, staring vacantly at the Krashue she carried, looked every bit like he would cause a different problem later.

“You can’t die before you help me with my research, little one.”

Krashue spoke words he wouldn’t be able to hear, and Darling simply continued walking.

* * *

After the incident at the Star Holy Ground.

Krashue opened his eyes inside a carriage the next day.

Having been unconscious for nearly a full day, opening his eyes was itself an ordeal with the pain radiating through his entire body.

Ilgeom is a fatal art of the sword.

Though he’d been aware of this, he hadn’t expected the aftermath to be this severe.

‘If I keep using it in succession, I’ll be the one dying.’

But the sight of Anix’s face in that final moment had been satisfying.

What bothered him was that he hadn’t managed to diminish the value of the Skill that man possessed.

Krashue had two methods in mind for stealing Skills.

One was the orthodox route of solving the dial that appeared when using the Black Hood.

The other was none other than inducing the opponent to view their own Skill as having low value.

When an opponent believes their Skill has little worth, it becomes easier to steal—like with Arthur.

And that worth would be lowest when they’d suffered a powerless defeat.

‘It’s a shame, but it can’t be helped.’

The timing simply wasn’t right yet.

But at the very least, within Anix’s mind, he was now marked as a dangerous presence.

That alone was enough to send ripples through the man’s thoughts.

All that remained was to gradually diminish the value of his skills, bit by bit, within him.

‘And at the end of it, Recovery will fall into my hands.’

It was the moment Krashue opened his eyes after arranging his thoughts.

The instant he opened them, he found it odd that something soft yet firm pressed against the back of his head.

Before Krashue’s eyes lay white hair cascading down and a face of delicate features.

The one peculiarity was that those eyes were closed gently.

Krashue stared blankly at that face for a moment before belatedly realizing it belonged to Bianca.

“Bianca?”

A start.

At his voice, Bianca reacted a beat too slow.

She hastily wiped her mouth as though she’d dozed off, then turned to face Krashue and greeted him.

“Good morning.”
“What are you doing?”
“Caring for you.”

Since when was nursing equivalent to a lap pillow?

For all her talk of caring, she’d nearly head-butted him in her sleep.

“We’re heading back to Valheim now.”
“I can see that myself. What happened to the Star Holy Ground?”

He was displeased at being used as a lap pillow by Bianca, though his body hadn’t recovered enough yet.

Since he remained lying down, Krashue asked, and Bianca answered while absently running her fingers through his hair, testing its softness.

“I don’t know. I wasn’t paying attention.”

He’d expected as much.

Bianca, who’d never cared for people in general, likely wouldn’t have given it much thought unless he’d been her fiancé.

Still, even without her explanation, Krashue could deduce that the Star Holy Ground must have been turned upside down.

‘That’s territory I don’t understand.’

All he could do was hope it turned out well.

“Fine. Wake me when we arrive. I need more sleep.”

Bianca flinched at that.

Krashue opened his eyes slightly.

“Your legs are going numb.”
“They’re not.”
“Then why insist on making me lie on your lap? There’s a Cushion right here.”
“Because you did it for me last time.”

There was nothing to say to that, but Krashue turned his body as far as he could manage.

“Get me a cushion pillow.”

Bianca promptly fetched a cushion and let Krashue rest his head on it instead of her leg.

From how quickly she moved, it was clear her leg had gone numb.

Only then did Krashue, finally comfortable, close his eyes—and soon drift into sleep.

As he slept, Krashue found himself in an odd dream where he was a raven and Bianca was a white chick.

Strangely enough, the dream left him feeling rather pleasant.

* * *

A week had passed since the incident at Star Holy Ground.

With his fourteenth birthday now just around the corner, Krashue had resumed serious training, riding on the momentum of the Ilgeom’s disappearance.

Nearly a year remained before he would enter Rahelern Academy.

Within that time, he had to grow strong enough to surpass the geniuses of Rahelern Academy, no matter what it took.

“So I was hoping to do nothing but train every day.”

Krashue wiped away the sweat beading on his brow.

Then he turned to look at Aliod.

The news Aliod had brought was about his third brother.

And the person in question was standing right outside Cheongsong Hall.

Moreover, he was absolutely fuming.

“Aliod, how many times have I sent word refusing him now?”
“This would be the twenty-second time, sir.”

It was about time his patience wore thin.

From his third brother’s perspective, it probably seemed ridiculous that Krashue wouldn’t come himself, so he’d held back as much as he could.

But now he’d reached his limit.

Krashue understood, and after shaking the sweat from his damp hair, he turned back to Aliod.

“Tell him to come in.”
“Are you certain, sir?”

Krashue understood what Aliod was concerned about, but he nodded anyway.

Aliod received the command and turned back toward the entrance of Cheongsong Hall.

As Krashue moved over to the bench, a water bottle suddenly appeared at his side.

Krashue accepted the bottle and unscrewed the cap.

He was gulping down water when Bianca, who had handed him the bottle, settled onto the bench at a slight distance.

“You smell like sweat.”
“That’s the kind of thing that hurts people’s feelings if you say it carelessly.”
“I don’t think you mind much.”

The stench he felt from World Erosion was far more terrible than sweat or anything else.

So he’d grown rather numb to odors altogether.

‘How bad is it, really?’

He pulled up his shirt and took a whiff—there was indeed a faint stench.

Well, he was constantly channeling Aura and expelling the waste matter that accumulated in his body.

After training, there was no helping it.

“Are you going to wash up?”

Seeing Krashue about to move, Bianca closed her book, and Krashue paused for a moment.

Then he shook his head.

“No, I’m probably going to move around again soon anyway.”
“Then don’t come near me.”

The moment Krashue heard that, he sprang up from the bench.

He took a step toward Bianca, and she bolted upright like a cat, her hair bristling.

“I warned you.”
“Oh, threatening your fiancé now? Look how much you’ve grown. You read books all day—you really think you can outrun me?”
“A book hurts when it hits, you know.”

Watching Bianca wielding her book like a weapon without hesitation, Krashue nodded to himself—fair enough—and immediately thrust his leg forward.

Bianca instantly spun around and took off running.

Watching her, Krashue took a few steps, then stopped and chuckled.

Perhaps because she reminded him of a younger sister, playful tendencies often emerged when he was with Bianca.

If the people who once knew only his grim side had seen him then, they would have thought him mad.

But suddenly Krashue’s laughter faded, and his face hardened.

‘Has my mind grown accustomed to peace in just this short time?’

The world still had sufficient capacity to hold back World Erosion on its own.

And because of that, Krashue had been exposed to the peace and let it affect him.

‘Arthur, did you feel this way too?’

Arthur—always maintaining an iron grip on tension, even at the Academy he’d worn a blade-sharp expression.

He’d stumbled in those final moments, but Arthur had lived in constant readiness.

He’d experienced Regression himself, so he couldn’t feel at ease in this hollow peace.

Krashue disliked Arthur, but at least he didn’t diminish the path that Arthur had walked.

It was true that Arthur had led the charge until the world’s end more than anyone else.

What would that man be doing by now?

The Arthur he knew no longer existed in this world, after all.

“Playing around with your betrothed, I see. Quite at ease, aren’t you?”

At those sneering words, Krashue turned his head.

There stood a boy just past adolescence, with hair the same color as his own and standing about two heads shorter.

The difference was that while Krashue’s eyes held a savage gleam, this boy’s eyes appeared perfectly normal—unless he scowled.

That detail was likely a matter of different mothers.

His name was Belokine Valheim.

The third direct heir of Valheim.

“People can’t live seriously forever, you know.”

Krashue’s nonchalant reply made Belokine’s eyebrows twitch.

And from that brief exchange alone, Belokine sensed something different about Krashue than before.

The man had ease about him.

The Krashue who’d always averted his eyes in fear whenever Belokine saw him was now looking directly at him.

‘Is the rumor true?’

That possibility made Belokine’s frown deepen all the more.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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