I Became A Thief Who Steals Overpowered Skills - Chapter 118

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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 118. True Madness

Only ten seconds remained.

The moment those ten seconds elapsed, Cheonsal-seong and Madness would abandon their standoff and immediately spiral into uncontrolled rampage.

Krash, fully aware of this fact, moved faster than anyone else in that instant.

Boom!

The sound arrived late, filling the space in his wake as dust whipped through the air.

By the time Krash, who had vanished in a heartbeat, drew within striking distance of the Night God.

The skull’s hollow eyes turned toward him, far too slowly.

Clang!

But the reaction came too late.

Krash’s Red Blade was already piercing through the Night God’s protective barrier.

He was fast.

So devastatingly fast that even a god could not track his presence.

Unless, of course, it were the Night God’s true form itself.

The power dwelling within the Crystal Skull was scarcely more than five percent of the original.

Thus it could never keep pace with Krash, who had activated Myeolhwa Surah.

Boom!

The Night God was sent flying skyward once more by the impact of the collision.

But this time, it did not end there.

Krash moved faster still, already positioned where the Night God would land.

Krash’s leg extended toward the Night God.

Thud!

A deafening roar erupted alongside the descending strike.

Krash had brought the airborne Night God to a halt, barrier and all.

Clang, clang, clang, clang, clang, clang!

What followed was the sound of a blade raining down in frenzied succession.

In a single heartbeat, Krash had struck the Night God’s barrier dozens upon dozens of times.

With each blow Krash unleashed, Black Flame erupted in billows, turning the barrier’s face a charred black.

Clang, clang, clang, clang, clang, clang!

Pitch black ahead.

Within the sealed barrier, the metallic clang was enough to drive a person mad.

It was enough to unsettle even the Night God himself.

What madman attacks a barrier like this—with such crude, brutish force, strike after strike?

The Night God had grown sick of Krash’s frenzy.

“You grave robber!”

As the enraged Night God thrust out a hand, black thorns erupted from the barrier in all directions.

Krash was pinning the barrier beneath his feet while bringing his blade down in relentless strikes.

If he didn’t evade, he’d be impaled outright.

If he dodged instead, he would melt into the night and become unable to attack before slipping away—that was the Night God’s plan.

He’d noticed that Krash would collapse on his own given time.

Clang!

Yet what came back was the sound of a blade.

The Night God recoiled in shock.

He’d sent out the thorns—so why was another Downward Strike coming back at him?

Clang, clang-clang!

Within the vision obscured by Black Flame, the Downward Strikes repeated endlessly.

The Black Flame, woven from World Erosion and Ignis, even dizzied a god’s eyes.

So it was the moment the Night God reached out his hand again, unable to tell what Krash was actually doing atop the barrier—

Crack!

The sound of a fracture tore through the air as the barrier, unable to withstand the full force of the next blow, split wide open.

The light within the skull flickered.

This was a barrier forged from Divine Power itself.

That it could be shattered through mere strength and repetition—

How could such a thing be possible?

He wanted to deny it, but this was reality.

Krash was unleashing power beyond all rational explanation.

Clang!

In that instant, the blade rose through the Black Flame and tore through the barrier, piercing deep within and lodging itself there with a sickening thud.

The Red Blade flashed past his face so close he could nearly feel the edge.

Through the erupting flames, Krash’s face finally emerged once more.

Above eyes blazing a vivid scarlet—reminiscent of a demon—dark blue hair whipped about his head.

The Night God understood.

Krash had not dodged when the thorns shot forth, contrary to what the Night God had expected.

His left leg was impaled upon them.

As if—as if the immobilized leg was precisely what he wanted.

In that very posture, he brought his blade down in a relentless strike.

Blood dripped from his leg, and where it touched the barrier, it hissed with a sharp, searing sound.

The sound made his current state—a body burning at such extreme heat—painfully clear.

Krash paid his injured leg no heed whatsoever.

Only one thing consumed him: shatter the barrier within 10 seconds.

He simply swung his blade like a madman, over and over.

It was madness, pure and simple.

A desperation that transcended any human obsession.

A furious onslaught that spared even his own body.

The Night God felt bewildered.

True, he had attacked Krash for being a tomb raider.

But at this rate, even survival would leave little of him intact.

Wasn’t that defeating the entire purpose?

“Even if you somehow endure this, your lifespan will be completely consumed by what you’re doing to yourself.”

When the Night God spoke, confused and exasperated, Krash did not listen.

His blade already raised above his head, Krash exhaled quietly, tendrils of smoke rising from his mouth.

‘Two seconds left.’

The lightning that gathered upon his blade took the form of a scabbard.

Within that lightning-sheath, Black Flame clashed against itself, generating a tempest.

A single downward strike, all power concentrated at one point.

When Krash reached the state of Sword-Body Unity for that singular blow—

Crack!

The lightning-scabbard shattered explosively, and Black Flame and lightning erupted upward together.

The blade, stained crimson, descended in a straight line toward the fractured barrier.

The Night God stared numbly at the afterimage of that crimson blade and asked:

“What possible reason drives you to go so far?”

With those words, the blade reached the Night God.

Myeolhwa Chimsik.

Third Form.

Myeolhwa Cheonroe.

Boom-boom-boom-boom-boom-boom-boom!

A tempest of black flame and lightning swept through the Cemetery.

Its shockwave shook the entire Cemetery.

After the tempest of black flame and lightning subsided.

Beneath Juyo’s charred body, a cracked Crystal Skull lay scattered.

In that instant, an outstretched hand snatched the Crystal Skull.

Clack—

The teeth of the Crystal Skull chattered, emitting a sound.

The hand belonged to none other than Krash.

“Spit.”

Krash spat out the black blood that had risen to his mouth and wiped his lips.

Then, as blood began trickling from his nose, he clicked his tongue and wiped that as well.

The moment the ten seconds expired, he’d reawakened the Eye Doll and forcibly suppressed Madness and Cheonsal-seong—and that was the only reason he’d made it this far.

Because the timing had been so razor-thin, the aftereffects remained undiminished.

Even now, Krash was gritting his teeth, fighting off the sensation of consciousness slipping away.

His mind was foggy.

‘Every part of my body aches like I could die from it.’

He’d forced his body to move beyond its limits with Cheonsal-seong, then pushed Myeolhwa Chimsik’s output even higher with Madness.

The backlash of that was now hammering ruthlessly through his body.

“Well, if you can’t endure it, your mind will become corrupted and you’ll turn into a murderer.”
You really want to reduce the population, don’t you.
“I was planning to solve that with your immortality.”
Shameless bastard. I’m not giving you anything!
“Is there even anyone else who would?”

Krash felt something like exasperation as he pulled out a painkiller he’d stashed away temporarily and tossed it into his mouth.

Then he poured a Healing Potion directly into his pierced leg.

The expensive potion was worth its price—with a sharp hissing sound, the punctured leg began to mend.

He downed the remaining potion as well.

It would have to do for emergency treatment.

‘I should probably see Astria again when I get back.’

That’s what healers were for, after all.

Krash, considerably improved thanks to the potion, turned his attention back to the Crystal Skull.

The power of Night dwelling within it had diminished far more than before.

He could have destroyed it during the Myeolhwa Surah if he’d wanted to, but Krash deliberately refrained.

There was a reason for it—he had to achieve the goal he’d decided on from the moment he came to the Cemetery.

“You still have some will left, don’t you?”

Krash called out to the Night God dwelling within the Crystal Skull.

The skull’s hollow eyes flickered with faint awareness.

“Still harping on that conversation.”
“Well, it’s been my purpose from the start.”
“I don’t even know your god precisely.”

So that’s where to start.

Apparently the Night God assumed that Krash’s interest was limited to the god who had made a contract with him.

“I only know that I am the god most resented by all other gods.”
“Resented?”
“What else would one do with that thieving ability?”
“Don’t tell me you’ve been stealing Divine Power from other gods.”

There was no denial.

So it was true.

Skills are blessings bestowed by gods.

When you think about it, Skills are also Divine Power.

But the original power that a god itself possesses is distinctly different from Skills.

Skills are merely lending out a portion; they are not Divine Power itself.

The god Krash had contracted with was the sort who went around stealing Divine Power itself.

‘Is she insane?’

If that were the case, she’d earn the enmity of all the gods, contract or not.

She’d face something far worse than what had befallen the Night God.

Beyond that, Krash had harbored a lingering question.

Other contractors didn’t matter—they’d been bound to their gods from birth. But Krash was different.

His regression had occurred before he’d ever met the god who’d given him the Black Hood.

‘I thought she’d approach me at least once, knowing I have her skill.’

Yet she had never shown herself a single time.

‘What’s she playing at? Or does she just throw down a skill and lose interest, like before?’

He couldn’t say for certain, but something about the Night God’s tale intrigued him.

‘I wonder if that’s worth trying later.’

If he could steal Divine Power, preventing the world’s destruction would be far simpler.

‘There’s no way to reach the divine realm. So I’d have to force a god to manifest instead.’

Krash turned the idea over in his mind for a moment, then shook his head.

No—that was too distant a concern for now.

“After that, I heard nothing from her. She just went around granting skills to humans.”

The Night God expressed her exasperation.

Krash, watching her, waved a hand as if to say that was enough.

“I was curious about that too, but if you don’t know, let’s move on.”

Besides, he’d already suspected long ago that his own god operated differently from the rest.

“What I’m proposing is a bargain.”
-This one really does love deals.

He wished they wouldn’t nitpick humanity’s most rational tool.

In any case, at the word “bargain,” the skull’s eyes flared with light.

Teeth clacked together as she laughed.

“Grave robber. What could you possibly offer this one in exchange?”
“Your name.”

In that instant, the Night God’s laughter ceased.

“I’ll retrieve your name for you.”
“……Don’t speak nonsense. A grave robber couldn’t find such a thing.”
“You steal Divine Power. You think you couldn’t steal a name? Another god took it from you.”

The Night God fell silent.

He—stripped of his name, now sleeping in this Cemetery.

For a god, a name is power itself.

Of course he would want to reclaim his name.

“What do you want?”

And that intuition proved correct.

When the Night God asked the question, Krash answered.

“Your skill. Nox.”
“You already have a skill. I cannot grant you another.”
“That’s fine. Just give it to him instead.”

Krash pointed to Juyo, who was charred but still clinging to life.

The Night God’s presence had taken its toll—the thread of his fate wouldn’t be long—but he was alive, nonetheless.

Krash was asking the Night God to grant the skill to Juyo.

The Night God’s reaction was one of disbelief.

He had grasped Krash’s intention: to use the Black Hood to steal the skill he had just granted to Juyo.

“How fitting for a grave robber—scheming and greedy to the bone.”
“That’s how you’re supposed to use an ability.”

As Krash spoke, the Night God let out a sigh.

Then the Crystal Skull rattled and shifted.

“Can you promise me—with certainty—that you will return my name?”
“You were only ever going to sleep here anyway. Might as well leave it in my hands, no?”
“So you’re not a grave robber after all—you’re a con artist.”

But there was no reason for him to refuse.

Either way, he had nothing to lose.

“Place me upon him.”

Following the Night God’s command, Krash laid him atop Juyo’s body.

The Crystal Skull rattled, and the darkness lingering within it began to seep into Juyo.

Juyo didn’t need to speak any acceptance of the contract for granting the skill.

He had already housed the Night God once; he was now forcibly bound as an Apostle.

The moment the skill seeped into Juyo’s body, Krash activated the Black Hood.

Unconscious, unaware that he even possessed a skill.

Without hesitation, without a dial—Nox, the Night God’s skill, fell into Krash’s grasp.

In that instant, Krash felt a deep, pitch-black night settling within his body.

As that darkness spread through his body, Wol Myo’s form radiated a distinctly potent aura of shadow.

The flesh that had burned hot from unleashing Myeolhwa Surah began to cool noticeably.

Krash clenched his fists.

So stealing Nox had been the right call after all.

And there was one more effect that Nox possessed.

When the night descended completely.

Beneath that darkness, Krash could become far stronger than he was now.

Nox was a skill whose power peaked when night lay thick across the world.

This would prove invaluable against Wol Myo in the battles to come.

“Thanks.”
“Remember what a deal is.”
“I said it myself. I won’t forget.”

Krash turned with a dry chuckle.

His body swayed for a moment.

The medicine and Nox had helped somewhat, but the aftereffects hadn’t fully dissipated.

“One thing—where did you send that girl?”

The Night God posed the question then.

The girl he meant was none other than Haring.

Krash scratched the back of his head at the question and answered.

“I told her to destroy every sacred relic you’ve been using in the Cemetery and bring back just one.”

It would take time, but that way he could coerce the Night God for certain.

Krash had planned this confrontation with the Night God from the start.

If the deal succeeded, he’d deal with it.

If it failed, he’d resort to blackmail instead.

“You insane bastard! Have you no fear of divine retribution?”

The Night God tried to vent fury at this mortal daring to threaten a god, but it was already too late.

Krash was already slipping away from the place.

“I’d better get there before Haring finishes smashing everything.”
“Get back here this instant! I’ll crush that skull of yours!”
“Ha, it’s your relics getting crushed, not me.”

He never lost the last word—very like him.

What a madman.

Only Crimson Garden wept softly in place of the Night God, her curses falling like quiet rain.

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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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