I Became A Thief Who Steals Overpowered Skills - Chapter 3

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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 3. The Secret Archive

“Why pretend you don’t know? Between us? I know full well you’ve raised me since the day I was born. In a way, that’s exactly why I’m bound to you.”

To Krasch, Aliod was both the father who had raised him and someone irreplaceably dear.

But there was one cruel rule that applied to the Balheim steward.

The rule was simple: the prospects of those who served a particular Direct Line rose and fell with how far that line ascended within the family.

They were bound to follow their chosen Direct Line for life.

Even if that line was sent to Cheongsong Hall.

There was only one way to escape this curse-like structure.

When the Direct Line they served died.

Normally, when a served Direct Line perished, they too would retire.

But Aliod’s situation was different.

Because Krasch’s Third Elder Brother had made him a proposition.

That proposition was nothing less than Krasch’s death by poison.

He had promised that if Aliod poisoned Krasch, he would secure not only a new position for him to live out his days, but a substantial sum of money as well.

‘My Third Elder Brother despised me bitterly.’

The root of Third Elder Brother’s contempt lay not with Krasch himself, but with his sister.

The Direct Line of House Balheim comprised five children in total.

Two of them shared only half their bloodline with the others.

The first three—from eldest to third—were born of the previous wife.

The fourth and youngest, Krasch, were the children of the current wife whom the Balheim Patriarch had taken.

And among them, the fourth—Krasch’s sister Charlotte Balheim—was the greatest problem.

‘Balheim’s finest prodigy.’

Charlotte, born with talent so absurd that Balheim itself might not see its like once in a thousand years.

With that talent as her foundation, Charlotte Balheim had overturned the hierarchy of the Direct Line within Balheim in a single stroke.

As a result, not only Third Elder Brother but even Second Elder Sister had their place in the Direct Line succession stripped away by Charlotte.

And so Third Elder Brother harbored a rage with nowhere to direct itself.

The family openly favored Charlotte, making Third Elder Brother nothing more than yesterday’s cold rice.

‘And that rage—the gaze of Third Elder Brother’s fury—it turned toward me.’

The youngest, sharing Charlotte’s bloodline yet cursed with pitiful talent.

Even Krasch’s own mother, newly married into the family, had hated that Third Elder Brother.

The moment Charlotte’s ascendance pushed him down the Direct Line hierarchy, he’d poured all that rage onto innocent Krasch.

So thoroughly that he would have gladly murdered him.

‘Since he can’t lay a finger on Charlotte. He dumped it all on me instead—we share at least something of a resemblance, after all.’

From Krasch’s perspective it was infuriating, yet he’d lacked the strength to resist.

Even the butler who ought to have served him had ultimately bowed to the Third Elder Brother’s demands.

“Well, never mind. If you’re going to pretend ignorance, I won’t press you.”

Krasch didn’t reproach Aliod further.

The butler’s defection to the Third Elder Brother was his own fault too—the consequence of being incompetent.

Krasch’s very survival owed to the poisoning attempt having failed.

Which made sense, really.

The day Aliod had resolved to carry out the assassination.

‘That man took his own life right before my eyes.’

Aliod had snatched the poisoned stew from Krasch’s hands just as he was about to eat it, and drunk it himself.

‘My apologies, young master. I have committed a sin most grave. You are as precious to me as my own children—how could I ever dare….’

That image of Aliod, dying from the poison as he begged forgiveness, remained etched in Krasch’s mind with crystalline clarity.

“In any case, come with me for a moment.”

But that was then. Now he had a separate request to make of Aliod.

“…Yes, sir.”

Had something shifted in his resolve?

Aliod answered with surprising readiness.

Krasch paid him no further mind and set out walking.

‘It should be here by now.’

Hoping his memory served him right, Krasch’s steps carried him to none other than the Library at Cheongsong Hall.

Though many books lined the shelves of this library, in truth it was merely for appearance.

Krasch, who had actually tried to read here before, knew well that there was scarcely anything worth his time.

It was no coincidence that Cheongsong Hall had become a refuge for the discarded of Balheim.

There was nothing of value at Cheongsong Hall.

Nothing—save for one thing.

“Young master Krasch, are you looking for a particular book?”

Krasch appeared unexpectedly in the Library.

When Aliod caught sight of him and his expression asked a silent question, Krasch gave no answer and simply moved forward.

Then he stopped abruptly in front of a bookshelf.

“Aliod.”
“Yes.”
“Clear this away for me.”

Aliod’s face betrayed his confusion.

Yet Krasch’s command carried a weight that felt difficult to refuse.

‘Where have I felt this before?’

The Patriarch.

The Balheim Patriarch.

But he dismissed the thought almost at once.

It was far too early to compare Krasch with that man.

Aliod removed every book from the shelf and soon cleared away the shelf itself.

What lay revealed was nothing but an ordinary library wall.

“Cut through this wall.”
“I beg your pardon?”

First he was asked to clear away the shelf, and now to carve through the wall itself?

It made no sense whatsoever.

But Aliod was Krasch’s butler.

Unable to refuse his command, Aliod drew his blade without hesitation.

A faint blue aura began to shimmer across the steel.

A butler of Balheim was expected to possess the skill of a High-rank Knight.

It was the only way to adequately serve the Direct Line of Balheim.

“I shall cut it now.”

With a flash of sword energy, Aliod carved through the wall in one clean stroke.

The moment he completed the cut flawlessly, a grinding sound echoed through the space.

A section of the outer wall, cut in perfect square, fell backward.

In that instant, Aliod understood.

There was a hidden space beyond the library’s outer wall.

Did he know of this place beforehand?

It was a place even Aliod, who had been assigned to Cheongsong Hall, did not know existed.

The moment Aliod stood gazing at it in bewilderment, Krasch vaulted over the severed outer wall.

“Well done.”

Krasch offered Aliod a curt word of praise, then walked inside.

Aliod followed him in as though entranced.

Moments later, they stood before an enormous lock.

The lock, larger than a man’s hand, was wedged firmly across the doorway.

Krasch halted before the lock that barred that dust-choked door.

“Should I cut through the lock as well?”
“No, that won’t be necessary.”

The wall beyond the Library of Cheongsong Hall.

When he had come here before, it was already burned to ash—a place rendered meaningless.

But now it was different.

That was still some distant future yet.

‘Cheongsong Hall is certainly where Balheim sends those it has discarded.’

That was why Krasch, incompetent as he was, had been sent here.

Krasch had wasted away his days in this place.

But the original purpose for which Cheongsong Hall had been built was not malicious.

Though now, long after Balheim’s founding, that meaning had faded.

Cheongsong Hall’s true purpose had been to help those born without talent in Balheim to shine brightly again.

Yet that purpose had been corrupted by a single incident.

The greatest shame of Balheim—a demon raised within these walls.

One who had sought to destroy the Balheim clan entirely.

Demaris Balheim.

‘And that’s why this place was sealed away.’

Another like Demaris must never be born again.

And so this hidden sanctuary.

The Secret Archive of Cheongsong Hall.

A place meant for Balheim’s incompetent.

Unless one became Patriarch of Balheim, even the Direct Line knew nothing of this place.

Krasch, now arrived, placed his hand upon the enormous lock.

It was a lock fashioned from a material that even Aliod, a high-rank knight, could not break.

But Krasch was different.

What came first when planning a theft?

Picking the lock.

For Krasch, who had picked countless locks over the years, the lock on the Secret Archive of Cheongsong Hall was child’s play.
‘Let me show you what I’m made of these days.’

Krasch activated Black Hood without hesitation.

Black Hood stole whatever the target possessed.

The ability applied equally to objects as it did to living creatures.

The difference was that with objects, value judgment wasn’t required—unlike with living beings.

Especially not with items that had long since lost their owner.

Clang!

In that instant, the lock’s shackle materialized in Krasch’s grip.

Thud!

The heavy lock, now missing its shackle, fell to the floor with a dull impact.

Witnessing the scene unfold in mere moments, Aliod’s eyes went wide.

In that brief window, Krasch carelessly tossed the shackle to the ground.

“…Krasch, did you perhaps enter into a Divine Contract?”

Aliod’s astonished gaze fixed on Krasch as he asked about the contract.

The ability Krasch had just displayed was unmistakably a skill.

Skills operated beyond convention, bending reality itself.

Sensing the question, Krasch glanced sideways at him.

It seemed that at this point in time, he hadn’t yet entered into a contract with any god.

“It’s just some minor deity. You can report it to Father if you like—I don’t mind. The Archive business either.”

All of the butler’s duties were reported up the chain to the Patriarch.

Knowing this, Krasch spoke with such ease that Aliod fell silent before bowing his head slightly.

“I will hold my silence at least until you have completed what you are attempting.”

The response was rather unexpected.

In Krasch’s memory, Aliod was a man driven by ambition.

And that ambition had sprung from a single source—his daughter, afflicted with an incurable disease.

Every salary he received from Balheim went entirely toward medicine for his daughter’s incurable illness.

Yet even that was not enough.

So he needed more money still.

Thus he was approached by Krasch’s Third Elder Brother with an assassination proposal.

And in the end, it was he who poisoned the stew.

And the fact that he himself had eaten that stew was, in the end, also because of his daughter.

That day, when Aliod saw his daughter in critical condition, his mind shattered.

On the very day he meant to carry out the assassination in exchange for better medicine from Third Elder Brother—

his daughter died of her incurable illness.

Only after his daughter’s death did Aliod come to his senses, and he ate the poisoned stew meant for Krasch and died.

His final apology carried also the guilt of failing to raise Krasch properly as his steward.

The guilt of a man born incompetent, that was all.

Yet now that same man was showing such a different face.

‘Did he receive some secret teaching from me in the meantime?’

Krasch, transformed overnight.

By ordinary logic, it made no sense.

But if he had entered into a Divine Contract, that changed everything.

Even for one born incompetent, depending on which god one made a covenant with, transformation could come overnight.

Skills granted through Divine Contract were always worth their weight in gold.

So Aliod reconsidered his thinking.

If Krasch was as he now appeared, perhaps there was hope for him to shine again after all.

‘At this point, Aliod has only been approached by Third Elder Brother—he hasn’t carried out the deed yet.’

When you thought about it, he hadn’t truly betrayed Krasch.

If Krasch didn’t dwell too hard on right and wrong, it was something that could be overlooked.

‘I see. This must be a weakness of Regression.’

Krasch dimly grasped the reason Arthur had come to hate Regression.

The Aliod of the present and the Aliod who had drunk the poisoned stew were different people.

And the two would surely walk different paths.

Because Krasch himself had changed.

Arthur must not have been able to bear this dissonance, and in the end had Regression forcibly taken from him.

‘The problem is Aliod’s daughter.’

Aliod was useful.

His talent for administration was sharp enough that he served as steward of the Balheim Direct Line itself.

At least while I remained in Cheongsong Hall, keeping Aliod close was the wise choice.

And besides, Krasch knew what his daughter’s incurable illness was.

He knew the solution to it as well.

‘I’ll handle that in time.’

For now, the Secret Archive came first.

Krasch felt a spark of excitement stir in his chest for the first time in ages.

And with that feeling, he pushed open the door to the Secret Archive.

Whoosh—

A gust of dust-laden air swept out from within.

Having spent so much time rolling through the World Erosion, a little dust like this barely troubled him.

So Krasch strode forward into the darkness without hesitation.

As his eyes adjusted to the gloom, the interior began to reveal itself.

Ancient bookshelves lined with volumes caught his gaze first.

The books here were Forbidden Technique Books, repositories of ancestral knowledge.

For someone born a natural genius of Balheim, such Forbidden Technique Books were, strictly speaking, pointless.

They arrived into the world already saturated with every Blessing the Balheim line could offer.

So why would such a collection exist in the archive of the Balheim?

The answer was simple.

‘This place exists solely for the incompetent.’

The Forbidden Technique Books in the Balheim archive had been compiled by none other than the Balheim incompetent.

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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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