I Became A Thief Who Steals Overpowered Skills - Chapter 131

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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 131. Why You Step Forward

As Krash responded, Pandra smiled thinly.

From his perspective, Krash had taken the bait.

“Then ten versus ten should do? The 2nd Year Students seem to number around that as well.”

Pandra said so, his eyes crinkling with amusement.

Indeed, behind Krash, the Starlon students numbered roughly nine.

“Krash, I’m joining your team too.”

In that instant, Haring, who had been watching from the side, stepped forward.

At once, every gaze from the Empire Faction swung toward Haring.

And discomfort flickered across their eyes.

After all, Haring belonged to the Empire Faction originally.

“Haring, what are you thinking?”

Pandra too regarded her with incomprehension.

He couldn’t fathom why she, an Empire Faction member, would take Krash’s side when he represented Starlon.

“You just said 2nd Year Students.”

Haring, untroubled, spoke with conviction.

“I’m a 2nd Year Student too.”

Behind his glasses, Pandra’s brow furrowed sharply.

She was right—Haring was indeed a 2nd Year Student.

She fell within the boundaries of 2nd Year Students that Pandra had mentioned.

His mistake lay in singling out Starlon specifically; doing so would invite complications later, so he’d couched it in terms of 2nd Year Students instead—and now that vagueness was coming back to haunt him.

Frankly, Krash seemed capable of handling things alone.

Yet having Haring participate made outmaneuvering Pandra all the more satisfying.

“Are you sure?”

Krash glanced at Haring and asked; she nodded in response.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m on your side.”

True enough—Haring, who’d shown a sharp edge to those she’d just met, was far more at ease with familiarity.

Everyone prefers what they know. That’s all it was.

“Me too, me too! I’m a 2nd Year Student as well!”

At that, Ballak sprang from his seat, signaling his readiness to participate.

Those on Ballak’s side had nothing to say against it.

After all, Ballak was a 2nd Year Student at Starlon.

“I’m a 2nd Year Student too.”

In that moment, Glen gripped his spear tightly and spoke toward Krash.

This was already conduct that betrayed Chivalry.

To hear such shameful words on top of it all.

No matter that he was part of the Empire Faction—Glen could not forgive them.

And because of that recent remark, Glen was seeing Krash in a new light.

In his heart, without even realizing it, strength had been carved into the image of Mery.

Krash’s words acknowledging her only inflamed Glen’s sense of honor all the more.

Murmuring rippled through the Empire Faction ranks.

There were four members of the Special Class alone, including Krash himself.

They’d planned to corner Krash, but the situation was already beginning to unravel.

“Glen, what are you doing?”

Pandra regarded him with cold mockery, as though he meant to drive Glen out himself.

But Glen showed not a shred of hesitation.

“I do this to uphold my honor.”

Seeing his firm resolve, Pandra’s brows knit sharply together.

It was only natural—this was the last thing he wanted.

“Anyway, I think we can just pick up a few more from over there for our team.”

As Krash spoke, he glanced back at the Empire Faction members.

“If you like, you lot can increase your numbers too.”

A provocative smile played at his lips, and Pandra ground his teeth.

The man was thoughtless, his reasoning shallow.

He must have assumed, like Charlotte, that they were arrogant and that no one would be around to oppose them.

Especially since Aslan, who traveled with Krash, was in the Magic Studies division.

“Pfahahaha! Now this is getting entertaining.”

That was the moment.

The strange laughter rang out, and the ground suddenly thrummed with a deep boom.

The moment Krash heard that distinctive, crooked laugh, he recognized who it was.

When Krash turned his head, a massive figure towered before him, so large it cast a shadow across the training ground.

The shadow stretching across the practice field was immense enough to blot out a significant portion of it.

Deep green eyes.

Distinctive tattoos marking his body.

Prea—the mountain range known throughout the empire as the most treacherous.

A rare ethnic tribe that took its name from such a mountain.

One of the Prea, a child of that people naturally blessed with extraordinary Martial Prowess like Balheim, and destined to become a member of the Starry Generation.

The Battle Emperor.

Arsolder Prea.

Even among the Starry Generation, he was the one whose combat ability stood out as almost grotesquely dominant.

“I can join in too, right?”

He lumbered over and casually draped one of his massive arms across the shoulder of a nearby Empire Faction member.

The arm was so thick that the gesture alone nearly buckled the man’s stance.

“Arsolder.”

Pandra’s expression brightened the moment he saw him.

He knew firsthand just how formidable Arsolder’s strength was.

‘I didn’t expect him to show up here.’

Krash felt a faint twinge of displeasure.

It seemed Arsolder was currently aligned with Sigrin’s faction.

And that was almost certainly because Sigrin had managed to pique his interest somehow.

And apparently, the current situation had proved intriguing enough to draw him in.

“So you’re Charlotte’s little brother?”

He fixed Krash with a gaze that didn’t seem to belong to someone in their teens.

“Looking forward to it. Put on a good show for me.”

Krash nearly drove his fist straight into that grinning face, but he restrained himself.

After all, he could already see roughly how this would play out.

“Yeah, fine.”

One way or another, he’d have to clash with this man eventually.

Arsolder enjoyed testing himself against the truly strong—almost as much as he did with Charlotte.

“Just start already. Anything. I’m tired of waiting.”

Waiting wore on him.

＊ ＊ ＊

Before the suddenly arranged Martial Prowess match between 1st Year Students and 2nd Year Students—

Naturally, Krash found himself pushed to the very end of the draw.

“Krash, you rest. I’ll take care of all of this.”
“I want to go first!”
“This is an Empire matter. I’ll handle it.”

Krash watched the three of them, each insisting on leading the charge.

He’d planned to sweep through the whole thing himself. How had it come to this?

-This is all your doing, isn’t it?

Not this time, it seemed.

But Krash found himself hesitant about stepping forward.

Whether there were ten Empire soldiers or a hundred didn’t much concern him.

The problem was that Arsolder Prea had entered the competition.

‘These three can’t handle him.’

It wasn’t for nothing that Arsolder Prea would later be called the Second Emperor, succeeding the chancellor of Rahelern Academy, the Dou Emperor.

Talent-wise, Krash was hardly lacking, but a one-year gap within Rahelern Academy meant something substantial.

‘I have to step in.’

When Krash’s eyes found Arsolder Prea, the older student’s lips curved into a knowing smile.

A clear message: the moment Krash appeared, so would he.

“We… we…”

Meanwhile, the Starlon 2nd Year Students standing awkwardly nearby looked uncertain.

After all, they’d been caught up in someone else’s dispute—and the discomfort showed.

Krash studied them for a moment, then spoke.

“Pandra, that one was targeting me from the start. He approached you just to get to me.”

Because breaking Krash would bring him multiple advantages.

Krash waved his hand, signaling them not to worry.

“So watch comfortably. I’ll show you what it takes for 2nd Year Students not to be looked down upon.”

With that, Krash turned to face the three who still insisted on going first.

“Ballak, you go first.”
“Yes!”

The moment the words left Krash’s mouth, Ballak bounced excitedly toward the center.

Haring and Glen both spun around with expressions of clear displeasure.

“Krash, why isn’t it me first?”
“Why are you sending that idiot ahead of us?”

The moment both of them protested simultaneously, Krash pointed at Ballak.

“Do you think he has the patience to wait while you two beat each other to death?”

Both fell silent at once.

They couldn’t argue with his assessment.

Meanwhile, Ballak walked toward the center of the Martial Studies training grounds.

Given how things had unfolded, everyone had retreated to the edges to watch.

At the same moment, someone from the Empire Faction emerged from the opposite side.

“Who do you think will win?”
“Ballak will. He’s quite strong.”

Haring turned to Krash with the question, but it was Glen who answered.

Krash, however, offered a different assessment.

“It won’t be that different.”
“What?”

Glen turned back to Krash with a puzzled expression.

It made sense, after all—Ballak was skilled enough to belong to the Special Class.

Yet Krash understood the gulf that separated the 1st Year Students from the 2nd Year Students.

“You all seem to be under a misunderstanding, so I’ll tell you now.”

Krash spoke as he watched Ballak and the Empire Faction member, both brimming with confidence.

“Rahelern Academy has something called the Summer Training.”

Summer Training—or what they all called the training from Hell.

In truth, it was a relentless gauntlet designed to forge students through endless trials, pushing them to grow even at the edge of death.

And naturally, it was a mandatory curriculum that no one—not even those who had founded their own factions—could skip.

The reason being that the former Emperor Durandal personally oversaw it himself.

“Once you’ve endured that, even the most worthless dregs learn how to pull their own weight.”

And from that crucible, every student learned one profound truth.

“How the weak bring down the strong.”

Facing the weak is easy.

The opposite is true, of course—facing the strong is difficult.

Living in this world, one encounters those stronger than oneself countless times.

And if that stronger person happens to be a World Erosion wielder, one can do nothing but meet death.

That is why Rahelern Academy teaches.

How the weak face the strong.

“The weak rarely break the strong.”
“Both fighters, get ready!”

A student hastily pressed into service as referee called out the readiness signal at the right moment.

“So you fight in a way that your effort, at minimum, can be passed on to others.”
“Begin!”

With the starting signal, Ballak drew two swords and rushed forward immediately.

The two longswords, each longer than Ballak’s own arm span, shattered the reach limitation imposed by his small frame.

Clang!

With the clash of blades came Ballak’s onslaught.

His assault, enhanced by natural flexibility and combat instinct, unfolded like an endless sequence of strikes.

Yet before him stood something else.

The Empire Faction member defended against Ballak’s assault with absolute precision.

He distributed his strength to minimize stamina loss, defending with calculated efficiency.

By contrast, Ballak’s offensive movements were broad and expansive.

Because he wove feints throughout, Ballak’s stamina depleted faster than his opponent’s.

The battle stretched on.

Without question, it was the Empire Faction member who continued to absorb each attack.

Yet it was Ballak whose expression grew more strained with each passing moment.

“Ugh, I hate this style of fighting!”

Ballak brought his blade down in frustration, swinging it with irritation.

But the Empire Faction member blocked it without hesitation.

He remained wholly focused on grinding down his opponent’s stamina.

Such elements subtly eroded the attacker’s mental composure.

No matter how furiously Ballak unleashed his assault, if his opponent kept blocking, even he would feel desperation creeping in.

Ballak’s breathing had grown ragged.

Sure enough, in that briefest of moments, he made a mistake.

An Empire Faction member who had been watching for exactly that opening threw a punch in a flash.

The fist drove cleanly into Ballak’s abdomen.

“Ugh!”

The impact sent Ballak sprawling, but he bit his lip and pushed himself up at once.

He had forced himself up to counter the next attack, and the effort drained his stamina in chunks.

But his opponent did not press forward.

He simply stood there, motionless as before, waiting for Ballak’s next move.

“Damn it, this is infuriating!”

Watching him preserve his stamina so methodically, Ballak’s temper flared hot.

And when his assault came this time, it was on an entirely different scale.

He threw himself forward as though burning through his reserves, pressing relentlessly.

As a result, the Empire Faction member reached his limit simply trying to defend; he had no choice but to counter.

Crack!

Ballak’s blade struck the Empire Faction member’s face hard.

In that moment of his stumble, Ballak followed up, and the Empire Faction member hit the ground.

“Haah… haah…”

Ballak breathed heavily.

He had burned through every scrap of his stamina to crush his opponent.

He had won, certainly—but as Krash had said, Ballak had not dominated the fight.

Glen and Haring’s eyes narrowed.

Because the next Empire Faction member who stepped forward wore an altogether too comfortable expression.

This was a game where whoever lost first lost everything.

Krash’s elite force numbered four: Ballak, Haring, Glen, and Krash himself—the rest were 2nd Year Students from Starlon who didn’t even belong to the Special Class.

The other side, by contrast, was composed almost entirely of elite fighters.

Naturally, the disadvantage accumulated steadily on this side.

“Begin!”

The battle between Ballak and the Empire Faction member commenced.

Clang!

“Ngh!”

In their first clash, Ballak was driven back.

He had exhausted too much of his strength in the earlier exchanges and had reached his limit.

Ballak pressed on with offense and defense as best he could, but it didn’t last long.

A blade sliced across his chest and sent him tumbling to the ground.

An Empire Faction member’s sword hung at Ballak’s throat.

Victory was decided.

Pandra looked toward us with a sinister grin.

It was the expression of someone certain of their triumph.

‘Forget the match—I’d plant my fist in that smug face first.’

“I’ll take the next one.”

The moment those words left his mouth, Glen rose from his seat.

Krash watched him carefully, then spoke.

“Want a piece of advice?”

Glen glanced sideways at Krash.

“If they drag out the fight, you can drag it out from the start too.”

Confusion flickered across Glen’s eyes.

Then understanding dawned, and his expression shifted to something like astonishment.

“The match will go longer.”
“Only one side needs to be impatient.”

Glen gripped his spear tight, his face burning with competitive fervor.

“I’ll do better than they expect.”

An eye for an eye.

A tooth for a tooth.

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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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