I Became A Thief Who Steals Overpowered Skills - Chapter 111

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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 111. Opening Ceremony (2)

By then, Krash had folded his arms across his chest.

“And she has a fiancé.”
“What? A fiancé?”

At the mention of a fiancé, Karandis’s face flushed crimson with embarrassment, as though she’d only just caught up with what was happening.

“I— that wasn’t my intention at all…….”

She let her words trail off, fighting to hold onto her smile.

But then she mastered her shame and made a preemptive strike of her own.

“And just because someone is engaged doesn’t mean they have to go through with the marriage, you understand.”

Brazen woman.

When Krash shot her a look that said she had no right to speak such words, she only returned his gaze with an expression of utter confidence.

Though her lips trembled slightly—visible proof of her shame.

Yet there was an unmistakable resolve in her, a tenacious desire to seduce him into marriage.

This woman was no ordinary specimen.

He was halfway through deciding to simply tell her to her face that she wasn’t his type when

a figure appeared before the podium.

The moment the students set eyes on him, they fell silent as one.

While his face bore the white hair and thick beard of an elderly man, the musculature visible between the seams of his robes struck all who gazed upon it with profound astonishment.

Though age had long since stolen his prime physique, and he had retired, stepping back into the shadows,

in days past his name had been inscribed upon the Heavenly Ranking.

The former Battle Emperor.

Durandal.

The apex of human legend—a man who had risen from nothing, from the very bottom, to the summit itself, without the aid of any house or family name.

It was because he had appeared.

The hall fell silent in an instant.

Durandal smiled.

For he was the Rector of Rahelern Academy itself.

“I welcome all of you new students, and I am Durandal.”

The children held their breath.

It was only natural—she was nearly a living legend.

“Well then, before I welcome our new students, let me say one thing.”

Only Krash’s expression shifted, as if to say, ‘Here we go again.’

“I always respect my students’ opinions. So anyone with something to say is welcome to visit my office. But.”

In that instant, both of Durandal’s arms swelled.

With a sound like tearing cloth, his shirt ripped away, revealing massive arms crisscrossed with countless scars.

While the students were still stunned, he brought one of those arms down with a thunderous crash against the podium before him.

The podium split clean in half.

The lectern, made from a branch of Divine Wood, hadn’t lasted two years.

“You see, opinions here aren’t expressed in words—they’re expressed through strength. In this world, might is law. The weak lack the power to make their voices heard.”

Like a madman talking to himself.

Though it seemed harsh advice for such young seedlings, he appeared satisfied, turning briskly on his heel.

“Ah, but Literature students may submit their opinions in writing. Do keep that in mind.”

That last remark was delivered as though he’d shown them considerable kindness.

While everyone sat slack-jawed,

another figure appeared at the podium.

The bespectacled man had a modest frame, made even smaller by Durandal’s wake of destruction.

“Welcome, everyone. I’m Vice Chancellor Eraodin Judis, and I’ll be overseeing you all for the next several years.”

He offered a strained smile to the children who barely noticed him.

“Before the entrance ceremony proper, I’ll be announcing the top scorer from each department and presenting them with awards. When your name is called, please come forward.”

Only then, as he continued, did the children begin to focus.

This was Rahelern Academy, where only the world’s brightest talents gathered.

Being first here meant standing at the pinnacle of talent itself.

The children had no choice but to listen intently.

“First, from Literature: Sizzly Epania.”

The moment that name was called, Krash and Mary both froze.

‘Sizzly? She came? But she said she wasn’t going to enroll at the Academy…’

Krash’s face registered sudden disbelief.

Mary, meanwhile, let her head drop.

Regardless of what the two thought, a tomboyish girl came bounding onto the stage.

Long blue hair bound up in neat buns, each one a symbol of the empire itself.

Eyes round as coins of gold.

A girl of small stature, her frame delicate from birth, as though her body had never quite found its strength.

The fourth princess of Epania, Sizzly.

The moment she appeared, the hall erupted in whispers.

“The fourth princess.”
“The empire’s sharpest mind.”
“So small and adorable.”

Sizzly ascended the stage with an air of unmistakable satisfaction at the murmuring around her.

Then, without warning, she glanced in his direction.

The moment their eyes met, Krash went rigid.

Because Sizzly was looking directly at him—unmistakably, unambiguously at him.

Krash read the message in that gaze.

She knew. She already knew that he was Krash.

‘When did she figure it out?’

There was no hiding from such observant eyes—he saw that now.

“Theology and Astria Stigma Freeman.”

Even as he thought this, another name was called from the Theology section.

A woman rose, her hair spilling like sunlight, and drew every eye in the hall to her at once.

Not merely beautiful by nature, but blessed with a form that commanded attention—particularly in one regard that her frame made unmistakably conspicuous.

Yet she ascended the stage with practiced ease, as though such gazes were nothing new to her.

“As expected of the holy maiden. How beautiful.”
“Ahem—such impious thoughts.”
“May light bless Freeman.”

Perhaps because Sizzly stood beside her, small even for her age—

Astria seemed all the more striking by contrast.

She glanced down from the stage, and the moment her eyes found Krash, she looked away swiftly.

Still the same as always.

“Magic and Aslan Igrit.”

The next name called was Aslan’s.

This time, the exclamations came chiefly from the women in the crowd.

Though he had regained his health, his decadent beauty was precisely the sort to steal a woman’s heart.

For some reason, his uniform jacket seemed to flutter slightly.

Aslan swallowed a bitter smile and stepped onto the stage.

“Special Studies Department, Baioren Sedni.”

A figure then appeared.

The students flinched without thinking the moment they saw him.

A male student well over two meters tall stood with a gloomy expression.

With his head half-bowed, he trudged up onto the stage.

Krash, upon seeing him, quietly flashed his eyes with recognition.

He already knew who that fellow was.

“And finally.”

A name was called out immediately after.

“Martial Arts Department, Krash Valheim.”

The moment Krash rose from his seat.

Every gaze in the hall turned toward him at once.

The Martial Arts Department was, in essence, the jewel of Rahelern Academy.

Its peak was the peak of Rahelern Academy itself.

In the eyes that poured forth in intensity far beyond the four before him.

Krash walked straight across the stage, his back held upright.

Not a single student opened their mouth.

They simply watched in silence the figure who was the true protagonist of this entrance ceremony.

Krash had come last to the stage.

Five talents who would represent Rahelern Academy going forward.

The moment Krash’s name was called among those five.

＊ ＊ ＊

The rest of the entrance ceremony was unremarkable.

After the ceremony ended and lunch was consumed.

Students simply needed to head to their respective departments at the appointed time.

Free time had somehow opened up until lunchtime.

Krash was watching a troublesome person.

“Krash, would you like to have lunch with me?”

It was none other than Karandis, the Ninth Princess of Poseus.

She seemed to feel some shame from being pushed away so forcefully before.

But the moment Krash drew everyone’s attention and stepped onto the stage, her eyes glazed over once again.

Watching her with that unmistakable determination to make him her husband, Krash’s eyes narrowed.

Should I hit her once?

It was a moment of genuine deliberation.

“Um, I… could I also come along for lunch?”

At that moment, Mary’s hand slipped up from behind Karandis.

She was the one who had been following Krash around ever since the entrance ceremony ended, alongside Karandis.

She had been hesitating, unsure of the right moment to speak, and was now trying to slip in quietly.

Karandis’s sharp gaze shot toward her.

“Excuse me, who are you? Why do you keep following Krash and me around?”

You’re the one who’s been following just as much, she thought.

While Krash looked speechless, Mary flinched at Karandis’s venomous stare.

“…Mary Diana.”

Mary answered in an almost crawling voice.

Perhaps it was the weight of her confinement that had been so harsh.

The confidence Mary once possessed had nearly vanished; she appeared considerably diminished now.

But regardless, Karandis’s gaze grew even more venomous.

“Mary Diana? Don’t tell me you’re the one who tried to assassinate the imperial family?”

The moment those words came out, Mary’s head bowed even deeper.

Cold sweat beaded across her face as she stood there, lost and helpless.

“Ha.”

Karandis exhaled, looking utterly flabbergasted.

“What nerve does a traitor who tried to assassinate the imperial family have, clinging to Krash’s side like this? Perhaps you’ve run out of options in the empire, so you’re hoping to try your hand again here in Staron by staying close to Krash. Is that it?”
“N-no, that’s not possible. The empire is everything to me.”

Her sharp words left Mary even more flustered.

Mary Diana, once a candidate to be the imperial spear, had been a tiger backed by Sigrin.

So she wasn’t even an heir to the throne.

Karandis, who was merely the Ninth Princess of Poseus, couldn’t afford to treat Mary carelessly.

But Mary Diana, as she was now known, was a criminal who had attempted to assassinate royalty.

Even the prestigious Diana family had effectively abandoned her.

Though the imperial household had handed down a pardon, Mary’s standing was virtually nonexistent.

Thus, the positions of Karandis and Mary were as far apart as heaven and earth.

“Have you no shame? Krash already has a betrothed. Aren’t you embarrassed?”

And was she not embarrassed herself?

The moment the words left her lips, Karandis seemed to realize the accusation applied equally to her, and she glanced over with barely concealed panic.

Then, as if surrendering to fate, she winked playfully at Krash.

A woman completely mad.

Yet her words succeeded in flustering Mary even further.

Mary shrank into herself until she was small enough to disappear into a crack in the wall.

Shrunken Mary.

“Leave this instant. Unless you wish to bring shame upon Krash’s name.”

Tears had gathered in Mary’s eyes without her noticing.

She had no words to counter Karandis’s accusation.

Yet Sigrin had given her an order: to grow close to Krash.

She could not withdraw from this confrontation.

Mary held back her tears and met Karandis’s gaze.

But Karandis only glared at her more coldly.

And Krash, leaving the two of them to their quarrel, turned and walked away.

He wanted them to fight it out between themselves.

“Fufufu, so he created the scene and fled?”

It was then.

Following the voice that had spoken, Krash turned to see a small girl standing there.

Her uniform—black trimmed with yellow—hung loosely on her frame.

The sleeves fell just past her wrists.

Despite being taller than before, she broke into a grin the moment she saw Krash.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it? Krad. Oh, Krash, that’s right.”

A girl whose smile brimmed with mischief.

Sizzly Epania.

Her entrance.

“What’s this about Krash?”

Watching her, Krash feigned ignorance outright.

But Sizzly paid him no mind, strutting toward him with delicate, measured steps.

“Well, that’s….”

In that moment, her extended leg caught, and her body pitched forward.

Krash caught her almost by reflex, his arms bracing her collapse.

She grabbed his shoulder with a soft thump.

Her pale yellow eyes came into view, inches from his face.

That distinctive, delicate fragrance that always seemed to surround her drifted past his nose.

“You’d know best, wouldn’t you?”

It was such a seamless performance that even Krash had nearly been fooled.

No, wait.

The faint blush creeping up to her ears suggested she’d actually stumbled.

Yet she played it off, tapping his arm dismissively.

“Your arm’s healed nicely, it seems. The way you were thrashing about at the entrance ceremony was quite the sight.”
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
“If you wish to hide it, then hidden it shall remain. But you ought to fix that attitude. Why won’t you be as you were when we first met?”

She poked his arm insistently, clearly displeased.

Krash’s expression soured, then he let out a sigh.

“Fine. Sizzly.”
“Hmm, yes, now that’s the proper attitude.”

Sizzly nodded smugly, her arms folded across her chest.

She looked as though she deserved a flick on the forehead.

“By the way, I heard you forgave Mary.”

Since they’d come this far, Krash decided he might as well ask what he was curious about.

Sizzly had apparently granted Mary a special pardon before her execution.

As a result, she’d earned the reputation of being a merciful princess—one magnanimous enough to forgive even those who’d conspired against her life.

For someone who despised drawing attention to herself, it was an utterly exceptional act.

“From where I stood, Mary seemed necessary to you. It would’ve been inconvenient if she’d died.”

Krash’s eyes narrowed.

“He had his ways of keeping himself alive, but he threw an arm for my sake anyway—didn’t he? So I made preparations.”

As she spoke, Sizzly tapped her own neck lightly with her index finger.

“A leash, like this.”

Somehow, she had figured it all out.

During the martial competition that year,

she had gleaned the nature of Krash’s bond with Mary from his reaction at the sight of her.

And with that keen mind of hers, she’d grasped how much Mary meant to him.

She’d dragged Mary to the brink of execution, broken her down,

then slipped a leash around her neck and hauled her all the way to the Academy like a trophy.

A gift, wrapped and placed in Krash’s hands.

Krash looked at Sizzly anew.

Now he understood why Sigrin wanted her dead so badly.

If she set her mind to it, she could swallow the empire whole.

“Hmm, not satisfied? I went to such trouble preparing this for you. Tsk, there’s really nothing I can do about it. If you want more, I have only myself to offer—how shameful of me.”
“Stop pretending to be like Karandis on purpose.”

Though to be fair, even if she’d tried, the gap in what they could accomplish was far too wide.

“Ha, fair enough.”

She wore a playful smile across her face.

“I have much more I’d like to say, but I see I’m drawing quite a crowd.”

With that, she slipped her hands behind her back and began walking away, stepping backward.

“I hear there’s a special today—strawberry tarts from Serna’s bakery, apparently. If you don’t like sweet things, save it for me. I’ve a weakness for sweets.”

She announced this special with perfect certainty, though no one had mentioned it before.

She was as inscrutable as ever, drifting away like wind.

While Krash nursed the faint throb beginning at his temples,

a woman with hair the color of sunlight came into view, walking toward him.

She caught sight of him and immediately began twisting a strand of hair at her temple, her eyes darting nervously.

Then, as if steeling herself, she cleared her throat and approached.

“……If you don’t have anyone to eat lunch with, would it be all right if I joined you?”

Hearing Astria’s words, Krash tilted his weary face skyward.

“I’m not eating lunch.”

He’d just go hungry instead.

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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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