I Became A Thief Who Steals Overpowered Skills - Chapter 17

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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 17. The Immortal

“Just give me the essentials.”

So Krasch met Aria’s gaze with the same impassive expression.

“Is it that now the son you’d written off comes back bearing news, you wish to reconsider him as a card worth playing?”

Aria paused in pouring tea from a crystal pitcher.

Then she turned to look at Krasch, a question mark flickering across her face.

“What are you talking about?”
“Does Mother wish to maintain such an attitude even before her son?”

The child she had given birth to, splitting her own belly open, had been treated like half a man and sent away to Cheongsonggwan.

An ordinary mother would have refused to accept that fact and visited Cheongsonggwan again and again.

But Aria had not shown her face once during all the years Krasch spent at Cheongsonggwan.

And that silence would continue right up until the day he enrolled at Rahelern Academy.

“Hmm.”

Watching Krasch, Aria gently settled her hips against the table and leaned back.

Then, cradling her cheek in one hand, she tilted her head.

“My, how you’ve changed while Mother wasn’t looking. I barely recognize you.”
“Children do grow quickly, don’t they?”
“Look at Charlotte—she grows, but to her mother she’s still a child. Always will be.”

Aria laughed softly, a low, melodic sound.

“But my son is quite different. It feels as though I’m speaking with someone nearly my own age.”
“Is that what you mean to say to your son?”
“I wouldn’t speak so to an ordinary thirteen-year-old.”

Ordinary.

Hearing that word, Krasch let out a hollow laugh.

“Would an ordinary son ever meet Mother’s eye?”

Mistress of Balheim.

A position that could never be seized through beauty alone.

Balheim, which commanded the world’s greatest martial prowess—and more, the wife of Ballock Balheim, legendary founder of the house and the figure said to have transcended the Ten Mightiest Warriors to reach the Heavenly Four Realms.

In a sense, a seat harder to win than the throne itself.

And so Aria had weathered countless intrigues, emerging victorious in the halls of power.

She had claimed the position of Balheim’s mistress at the age of twenty.

Fifteen years passed.

She held firmly to her position as mistress of Balheim, where all manner of dealings flowed in and out.

But there, a problem had emerged.

The path to her station had been brutally difficult.

As a result, she had shed many ordinary emotions.

The first thing she lost was maternal love.

To her, a child was merely a tool for maintaining her position.

She played the role of mother when it served her purposes, and set it aside without hesitation when she judged it no longer useful.

She had Charlotte—a daughter who would protect her station for life.

So she lavished endless affection on Charlotte.

Krasch, by contrast, received only the performance of motherhood; there was no genuine love behind it.

That she had summoned Krasch today aligned perfectly with his suspicion.

The rumors of Krasch’s recent movements differed sharply from his usual behavior.

So she had called him to assess whether he still held value as her son.

And in her mind, a bell was ringing—a confirmation of sorts.

“My son, Mother is happy with however you change.”

As she spoke, she slowly sipped the tea she had poured for herself.

“The fact that you are my son will never change, no matter what happens.”

Blood runs far deeper than the black tea she now sipped.

Deeper, perhaps, than a curse itself.

Knowing this truth, Aria smiled with her eyes.

“My son is just like his mother—a stubborn sort. I’ve always wondered if a day like this might come.”

And this, at least, was an undeniable truth.

Krasch’s tenacious nature came from Aria, and he had felt the weight of that inheritance long ago.

“So if you’ve resolved to become stronger, then become the strongest. In Balheim, that is the only path to survival.”

Even if she was the mother he had resented so deeply, blood remained blood—a fact that would never change.

“And the real reason I called you today lies elsewhere.”

With that, Aria lifted a letter from the table.

The seal of Balheim was stamped clearly upon it.

“It was sent by the head of the house.”

And it had even given Krasch pause.

“……And the contents?”
“He says he’ll be returning from Geumyeok soon.”

Geumyeok—a land where World Erosion had spread so far that it could no longer be saved.

A place beyond classification, it was the greatest headache for every nation.

Ballock Balheim was in one of those places in Geumyeok.

And he was there alone.

“And he said he wanted to meet you once.”

A flicker of bewilderment crossed Krasch’s eyes.

Whatever he had done amounted to nothing more than child’s play.

Hardly the sort of thing to reach Ballock’s ears.

‘Unless.’

Had his father seen something?

Ballock Balheim was one who had entered the realm of the Demigod.

If so, he would be able to perceive something akin to foresight through the stars of heaven, and in that process, he might have glimpsed something in his son.

“Stay at the main house until then.”

Hearing his father’s instruction to remain until his return, Krasch lifted his head.

His mother wore the expression of one merely issuing an obvious command.

“Was that written in the letter?”

Krasch asked her abruptly.

“Hmm? No, it wasn’t written there.”
“Then I shall return to Cheongsonggwan.”

The moment Krasch announced his immediate departure, Aria showed genuine surprise for the first time.

“Wait—my son?”
“Isn’t Cheongsonggwan my original post? Something both you and the Patriarch have already agreed to.”

Krasch smiled then, a smile that was the spitting image of Aria’s own.

“I’ll come if the Patriarch calls for me. Or.”

And in that moment, Aria understood that her son was a far more obstinate creature than she.

“He can come himself.”

Krasch, who had spoken words that no one else would dare utter so casually, opened the door.

“I’ll give my testimony about the abnormal symptoms of this World Erosion, and then I’ll be taking my leave.”

Aria, still reeling from his words, could not stop Krasch as he walked out of the room.

Krasch stepped out of the room, leaving Aria behind, and let out a weary sigh.

This was exactly why he’d wanted to avoid meeting his mother.

Her very presence left him unsettled.

“I wish this were over already.”

It was almost amusing—he actually wanted to return to Cheongsonggwan, a place he’d found so tedious before.

Perhaps because of that, the expressionless face of that chick kept drifting into his thoughts unbidden.

‘Probably just reading books again.’

He was lost in such thoughts when it happened.

Krasch encountered someone approaching from down the corridor.

It was a maid who served his room, and the moment she spotted him, she lowered her head respectfully.

“Krasch, the World Erosion Investigation Unit Cepira has requested your assistance.”
“Perfect timing.”

I might as well give them a proper testimony.

＊ ＊ ＊

The World Erosion Investigation Unit Cepira.

Experts on World Erosion, they were an organization composed of capable talent sent from all corners of the world.

The Four Great Kingdoms, the minor kingdoms, even the Empire—all united to support this organization.

‘That’s why Cepira holds the highest authority when it comes to investigating World Erosion.’

So even Balheim had no choice but to comply with Cepira’s investigations.

Unless it wanted to make enemies of every nation on the continent.

“Welcome.”

As Krasch opened the door and entered, a woman with a stern expression stood waiting.

She wore Cepira’s official uniform, with its characteristic swollen front panel, and held a file envelope in her hands.

The number emblazoned on her chest marked her as Grade 4.

Given that Cepira’s ranks ranged from Grade 9 to Grade 1, this was a rather high-ranking official indeed.

Then again, the nature of the matter warranted it.

“You are Krasch of Balheim, correct.”
“Yes, that’s correct.”

As she adopted a businesslike tone, Krasch answered in kind and took a seat.

Cepira would be a necessary organization for years to come.

After all, their knowledge of World Erosion was second to none.

So he had no intention of making enemies of them.

Only — until that creature appeared and brought Cepira to ruin.

‘For now, it should be fine.’

That creature’s period of activity was still some time away.

So Krasch decided to focus on the woman before him.

It was in that moment that he caught sight of it — a small black star mark etched on her neck, hidden among her hair.

Staring blankly at that black mark for a moment, Krasch felt laughter welling up inside him.

“?”

As Krasch suddenly began to laugh, the Cepira investigator turned her head.

She fixed him with a suspicious gaze, while Krasch leaned back leisurely in his chair.

So this was where the Immortal’s servant was hiding.

To think she was this close all along.

“The Immortal.”

The moment Krasch uttered that name, the woman’s body went rigid.

“I’d like to make a deal with her.”

The small black star mark on the woman’s neck.

It was nothing other than proof that she was the Immortal’s servant.

Ordinarily it would have been invisible, but Krasch had absorbed World Erosion into his body.

As a result, he had begun to see who bore the mark of the Immortal’s servant.

“Bold of you to plant a servant within Cepira itself.”
“I’m afraid I don’t understand what you’re saying, Krasch.”

The investigator fixed him with a fierce, threatening stare.

But her menacing glare hardly frightened Krasch at all.

“Don’t play games with me. I’m the only person who can erase your Immortality.”

And the moment those final words left his mouth, the investigator’s expression began to shift.

With that, her face transformed entirely.

Her hair, which had been jet black, rippled into a flame-like crimson, and her eyes blazed with the same fierce red.

A gaze that called to mind a reptile.

Multiple black star marks appeared on her neck, and from her lips came a deep, measured breath.

“Hah.”

With that alone, Krasch felt a crushing presence entirely different from before wash over him.

Cold sweat beaded down Krasch’s spine.

Even if Krasch’s mind refused to bend beneath that weight, his body responded with the automaticity of instinct.

This was only the Immortal’s spiritual form, temporarily displaced from her true body.

Yet she radiated an aura of such overwhelming dominance.

“Child.”

The words that fell from her lips froze even Krasch’s composure in an instant.

“Are you a Regressor?”

Regressor.

At that word, Krasch’s thoughts came to a halt.

Regressor—yes, that included him.

But there was a true Regressor among them.

Arthur Gramalte.

He was the genuine article.

‘Does she know about Arthur?’

No. That couldn’t be it.

If she did, she wouldn’t have asked him if he were a Regressor.

She must have some knowledge of Regressors’ existence and was fishing with a probing question.

In the same moment, understanding crystallized in Krasch’s mind—why Arthur had once sought to kill the Immortal.

‘Because the Immortal knows of Regressors’ existence.’

However she came by that knowledge, it was a secret that could never reach Arthur’s ears.

Because of the Regression.

“Whether I’m a Regressor or not, do you think I’d confess it myself?”
“The moment a human child dared to propose a bargain to me, there was no other explanation than Regressor.”

The Immortal laughed softly, as if to say she had already seen through it all.

“I came searching for something else entirely. I wanted to know who had eliminated the World Erosion I cultivated—instead I’ve caught something entirely unexpected.”

The mad escalation of World Erosion’s grade.

Whatever mad acts she had committed, it seemed they had nothing to do with Regressors after all.

Regardless of what she sought, the Immortal’s expression was one of supreme arrogance.

“A Regressor erasing my Immortality? How absurd. A creature bound within time’s wheel dares posture before me, who have transcended time itself?”

And it seemed the Immortal had completely mistaken him for a genuine Regressor.

‘I’m only half a Regressor.’

He was not a true Regressor.

The true Regressor was none other than Arthur.

Arthur, who had lived through the same cycles as Krasch, no longer existed in that world.

Yet in this world, Arthur did exist.

‘The fact that the Regression I stole vanished—that’s the proof.’

The Regression that Krasch had possessed had disappeared.

‘A skill is a unique ability that only one person in the world can possess.’

Krasch’s Black Hood contained Ignis, but not Regression.

Because this world’s Arthur held Regression, Krasch’s version had been erased.

So the true Regressor was still Arthur, without question.

‘Though I can’t yet tell which iteration of Arthur he is.’

One thing was certain: this Arthur had no knowledge that Krasch had Regressed.

“Did the worlds you’ve seen bring you joy? Does everything feel like yours now that you’ve tasted Regression? How amusing. All that awaits you is emptiness.”

As the Immortal laughed and poured out her mockery, Krasch fell silent for a moment.

Then, a heartbeat later, he raised his hand.

It was in that instant.

A pen that had been resting on her document folder was now gripped in Krasch’s hand.

The Immortal froze.

She understood perfectly well that what Krasch had just done was neither aura nor magic.

“It’s a skill.”

And Krasch openly revealed to her that it was exactly that.

Krasch spun the pen lightly between his fingers, studying her rigid form.

“And it’s a skill that can steal your Immortality too.”

The moment he revealed this truth, the Immortal’s eyes trembled for the first time—violently, desperately.

“Shall we talk now, Crimson Garden?”

The Immortal, desperate to erase Immortality.

“With the only person who can erase yours.”

The World Erosion agent standing right before her.

It was Crimson Garden, or August.

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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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