I Became A Thief Who Steals Overpowered Skills - Chapter 4

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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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Episode 4. How a Blessed One Grows

For the successors who would find themselves in the same plight as those who had never received a blessing.

The Blessed Ones of old had dwelt at Cheongsonggwan and wove their techniques and knowledge into Secret Technique Manuals, complete and whole.

This was none other than the secret archive of Cheongsonggwan itself.

An archive for the Blessed Ones.

“Hah, what a fool I’ve been.”

Krasus stepped forward to the bookshelf and withdrew a dust-laden Secret Technique Manual with deliberate slowness.

What if he had discovered this place even a moment sooner?

Rather than obsessing solely over the skills he could gain through Divine Contract with the gods.

Could he not have reached enlightenment through the fruits of human creation?

“Forgive me for coming so late, my ancestors.”

Krasus made a wry jest and lifted his gaze.

This archive, sealed away because of Demaris Balheim—the worst of all Blessed Ones.

He had finally opened it again with his own hands.

And yet, while these ancestral Secret Technique Manuals were indeed precious, the one Krasus sought among them was different.

When Krasus turned his head, gooseflesh erupted across his entire body.

A profoundly eerie presence struck him hard.

This chill, felt even after he had endured countless curses of World Erosion within his own flesh.

There was no doubt.

‘Demaris Balheim.’

The Secret Technique Manual left behind by the demon.

It was there.

Step by step—

Krasus’s footfalls began to advance, measured and slow.

A black, ominous tome resting on the deepest shelf in the library.

At first glance, even bloodstains seemed to cling to it—this book Krasus lifted with unhurried care.

And then a strange laugh spilled from his lips.

‘So that’s why I went mad.’

Krasus gazed at the roiling aura emanating from the black Secret Technique Manual and seized the book with a fierce grip.

The moment his hand touched it, the tips of Krasus’s fingers began to char.

Yet Krasus did not even cry out in pain.

Pain was familiar to him—a consequence of the World Erosion curse that consumed him.

This alone would not stop him.

‘So he was consumed by the World Erosion curse.’

Through the curse seeping from the pages, Krasus grasped why Demaris Balheim had descended into madness.

The World Erosion curse was vicious beyond measure.

Even he had spent years upon years studying how to counter it, and only by pitting curse against curse had he managed to endure.

Had each of them carried even one curse alone in their body, Krasus himself would not have survived.

‘And besides, when a curse is stolen, its power weakens somewhat.’

A curse grows stronger when it is cast with a clear target in mind.

Since Krasus had stolen this curse, it had lost its intended victim and withered in potency.

Of course, the agony remained terrible nonetheless.

Crackle—

Ignoring the blackening skin of his hand, Krasus turned the page.

He began to read through the book slowly, methodically.

The contents took the form of a diary.

Demaris Balheim.

The chronicle of how he, once called a Blessed One, was eventually devoured by World Erosion and came to be known as a demon.

Demaris had recorded every harrowing detail of that history here.

Yet the narrative stirred little emotion in Krasus.

What truly mattered lay beyond—in what came after.

‘I found it.’

In that moment, Krasus’s eyes flashed.

Demaris was not called Balheim’s greatest shame because of some demonic nature—there was another reason.

It was because he had been a monster of such terrible strength that he could have claimed the title of Balheim’s mightiest.

When Demaris raged, the world’s greatest warriors had thrown themselves at him.

Yet all had their throats cut by his blade.

How had he become so devastating?

The answer was simple.

He had devised a singular forbidden technique that manipulated World Erosion.

A deranged art that etched World Erosion directly into his own body, allowing him to command its power through sheer will.

And through that madness, he had ascended to absolute supremacy.

Though in the end, he became a monster devoured by World Erosion itself.

The forbidden technique he left behind.

Geukheul Chimdog.

A taboo art even in Balheim, where they absorbed World Erosion into their own bodies of their own will.

No one could have known that the Secret Technique Manual bearing this forbidden knowledge lay tucked away at the very end of Cheongsonggwan’s hidden archives.

‘If I master this, it becomes possible.’

Krasus read through the contents of Geukheul Chimdog in meticulous detail, his fists clenching tight.

Though when he’d first discovered it, more than half had already burned away, leaving it impossible to learn.

This time was different.

Of course, Geukheul Chimdog was perilous beyond measure.

But Krasus possessed a method.

‘The weakness of Geukheul Chimdog lies in World Erosion’s madness—and in the cursed one who can control such madness.’

He knew the cursed one well.

And he knew, too, that this one stood quite close to him.

It was absurd to steal a curse once more.

Yet it was necessary for what lay ahead.

One day, Krasus intended to steal not curses alone, but every skill as well.

For now, he had to grow strong even without skills.

Krasus closed the manual on Geukheul Chimdog and rose from his seat.

“Alliod.”
“Yes, Master Krasus.”
“From today onward, admit no one into Cheongsonggwan until I have mastered all the Secret Technique Manuals here.”

It was an order issued by the current master of Cheongsonggwan.

Alliod’s eyes widened at the sight of Krasus, and he bowed his head deeply.

“Understood, sir.”

Krasus began pulling books from the shelves once more.

Watching his receding figure, Alliod fell into contemplation.

‘How could Master Krasus possibly know of such a place?’

A library of Secret Technique Manuals containing techniques so alarming they were startling merely to glimpse.

Krasus had found this place as if it were nothing—a location even Alliod, who had been appointed as Cheongsonggwan’s steward, did not know of.

As though someone had whispered its location to him in the span of a single night.

Then who could that someone be?

‘Possibly…’

There was only one person capable of revealing such a place within Cheongsonggwan.

The current family head of Balheim.

Muwang Balrok Balheim.

It could be no one else.

‘Has the family head not yet abandoned young Master Krasus?’

Upon witnessing Krasus accomplish the Divine Contract, surely the family head had hinted at Cheongsonggwan’s secret to him.

Having reached this conclusion, Alliod clenched the fist he held to his chest.

‘And yet I was prepared to abandon the young master, when even the family head had not.’

He found himself contemptible beyond measure.

At the same time, emotion welled up within him.

The very feeling from those distant days when Krasus had first been born.

That resolve to serve this man as his steward throughout life, to raise him one day as head of Balheim.

‘Young Master Krasus overlooked my failure.’

It was only natural that when a master forgives a steward’s error, the steward must repay that grace.

‘When one who has fallen stands again, they should stand all the more firmly—and yet how could I have made such a foolish mistake?’

Blinded by his daughter’s incurable illness, now aware of whom he had betrayed, Alliod felt a deep self-loathing.

It had ultimately been his duty as Krasus’s attending steward to guide him down the righteous path.

And he had been prepared to betray him, even if only for a moment.

He resolved to refuse his third elder’s proposal clearly and firmly.

‘My master is young Master Krasus.’

With that truth carved anew into his heart.

＊ ＊ ＊

Several days after Krasus entered the secret archive.

Belrokin Balheim, third among Balheim’s direct line, received news that left him astounded.

“You’re rejecting my offer for that Blessed One wretch?”

Belrokin Balheim’s brow furrowed as he recalled Alliod, who had bowed moments earlier before departing.

Alliod had refused his proposal for the sake of that Blessed One youngest.

He had boasted without reservation that he would handle everything cleanly.

Moreover, he had promised to cure his daughter’s incurable illness.

Yet this fool had suddenly shifted his stance for some inexplicable reason.

‘Damn it—I was certain it was already settled.’

He had been convinced that Alliod had long since abandoned Krasus.

So why would he reject the offer now?

“Garbage like that has no business remaining in our house.”

Belrokin gnashed his teeth, his face twisted with visceral disgust.

Beside him lay a newspaper, torn to shreds.

Its subject was an article about Charlotte, hailed as a prodigy of the ages.

Belrokin shoved the torn newspaper toward the waste bin and rose from his seat.

The sight of that woman’s bloodline thriving within House Balheim filled him with a maddening revulsion.

One was called a prodigy of the ages, the other a Blessed One who brought shame upon Balheim.

Every last one of them was an infuriating nuisance.

“Is anyone out there?”
“Yes, sir. You called for me?”

At his shout, a man abruptly opened the door and appeared.

Clad in a well-fitted butler’s uniform, he was none other than Belrokin’s personal servant.

“Go to Cheongsonggwan where Krasus resides. I need to know why that wretch’s butler has suddenly changed his tune.”

Belrokin could not fathom it, so he resolved to investigate directly.

But not long after, he learned a fact that sent his fury mounting higher still.

Cheongsonggwan had been sealed by order of its master, Krasus, so that no one could enter.

Not even his elder brother.

As Belrokin’s anger grew with each passing day,

Krasus trained relentlessly in the secret chamber.

After some time, he exhaled a long breath from his seated position and opened his eyes.

Then a refreshing current of Aura flowed outward from within, sweeping across his entire body.

The elevation in his Aura was unmistakably higher than before.

‘At this level, I’ve crossed the threshold into Aura Expert territory.’

There were several stages within the realm of Aura.

The first stage—the most foundational—was that of an Aura User.

This was where one lingered upon first awakening their Aura.

The next stage was Aura Expert.

It was the tier where most Aura practitioners concentrated, the boundary between the ordinary and the gifted—a fair way to describe it.

There was a saying in the world.

Those who failed to graduate from Expert before thirty would remain Expert for the rest of their lives.

To that extent, Expert marked the ceiling of the ordinary.

And Krasus had only just entered that realm of the ordinary.

His current age was thirteen.

Judged by age alone, it was considerable.

But the house he belonged to was none other than Balheim.

The direct line of Balheim entered Expert rank by age eight.

Indeed, Charlotte, who was two years his senior, had already reached the pinnacle of Expert and stood within sight of Master.

It was no accident that she would earn the epithet Sword Star before reaching her twenties.

‘Even now, such talent is beyond reckoning.’

Yet even Charlotte, formidable as she was, proved helpless in the face of annihilation.

Compared to her, he was merely a novice in the Expert ranks.

Could such a standard truly protect the world?

“There’s only one way to know.”

Krasus felt no particular despair.

He was a Blessed One.

The fact itself no longer struck him as novel.

More than anything, he found himself genuinely pleased now.

Expert or not—in the past, using Aura had twisted his insides with a curse that haunted him.

Moreover, the Secret Technique Manuals in this hidden library were all written by fellow Blessed Ones of Balheim like himself.

As a result, the manuals were easy to understand, and he could grasp their teachings.

Though he could not hope for the kind of talent Charlotte possessed, he could still grow stronger.

For now, this was enough.

“Young Master.”

Just then, Alliod’s voice reached him from outside the secret study.

Krasus put away the Secret Technique Manual and stepped out.

“You’ve entered the Expert ranks, sir. My congratulations.”
“You’re too kind.”

Krasus offered a measured reply to Alliod, who had begun with pleasantries.

Then he adopted the expression of a man wondering what business had brought him here.

“Your betrothed, Miss Bianca Hadenhartz, has arrived at Cheongsonggwan.”

Krasus thought: she’s come as expected.

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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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