I Became A Thief Who Steals Overpowered Skills - Chapter 59

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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 59. When the Flames Begin to Rise

Agatha burst through the door and vanished. Minutes later.

A maid who had been hiding at the end of the corridor suddenly emerged.

Dressed in the typical maid’s uniform—a black dress with white frills—she was none other than Lilina.

But today, Lilina was not alone.

A raven perched upon her shoulder.

“Krim, there’s no one around, is there?” Lilina asked.

The raven bobbed its head lightly in response.

Upon seeing this, Lilina exhaled once and began to sprint down the corridor with swift, practiced steps.

Right now, everyone was drawn toward Aslaan and his crisis—his divided soul collapsing in on itself.

Now, with the halls empty, was their chance.

She didn’t even bother closing the door behind her, slipping into Agatha’s room with ease thanks to the woman’s hasty departure.

The moment she stepped inside, books filled her vision—shelves upon shelves of them.

Every spine gleamed with titles on magic and the study of inborn constitutions, their arrangement revealing a fierce intellectual hunger.

Scattered across the desk were several documents, and among them lay a single photograph—old, cherished, capturing three figures in simpler times.

A photograph of a family.

Aslaan as a child, small and fragile, cradled between his father and Agatha.

Lilina gazed at it with a pang, then turned away.

She began to search the room methodically.

The drawers were the most obvious place to start.

“Nothing here either.”

She’d opened every unlocked drawer already.

As expected, Dorothy’s Crystal was nowhere among the open compartments—the item Krash had told her to find.

A Spirit Core left behind when a spirit dies.

It was the gift spirits left to pass their memories and experiences to those who came after them.

When Krash had absorbed the World Erosion dwelling in the Chaos Spirit’s core, he’d glimpsed Dorothy’s memories for this very reason.

Unlike Krash, who had destroyed the core to kill the spirit, leaving no crystal behind, Krash had instead preserved it.

But Dorothy’s core had burned and shattered, which meant a crystal had been left in its place.

And that crystal was what Lilina had come to find.

“What’s left.”

Lilina’s eyes landed on the drawer.

A drawer sealed shut with a lock.

It was certainly the kind of drawer that would hold important documents.

The problem was that the lock appeared to be made of magic.

Lilina was an ordinary person.

She’d seen mages use magic before, but she had no idea how to cast it herself.

As she stood there, shifting her weight uncertainly, unsure what to do.

A raven suddenly hopped lightly down from Lilina’s shoulder.

“Krim?”

The moment Lilina called the raven’s name, the bird was already at the lock.

It tapped the lock twice with its beak, and with a soft click, the mechanism fell away.

Lilina stared at it with wide, astonished eyes.

She’d had no idea Krim possessed such an ability.

So that’s why Krash told me to bring Krim along, she thought, understanding at last.

But there was no time to dwell on it.

Agatha could return any moment.

She hastily opened the drawer and looked inside.

“Found it!”

And she let out a cry of triumph.

Inside the drawer lay a single brilliant blue crystal.

She quickly slipped the crystal into her pocket.

All that remained was to leave.

So she swiftly relocked the drawer and stepped back out into the hallway.

It was in that very moment.

Whoooosh!

A towering pillar of flame suddenly erupted beyond the window.

Lilina flinched and turned her head toward it.

And her face began to drain of all color.

“…This is bad.”

She bolted down the corridor at once.

She’d recognized whose magic the Flame Pillar belonged to mere moments before.

And she knew that pillar had erupted from the very place where Aslaan was.

There was no doubt.

The Red Mage Tower Master.

The Flame King.

Adolf Igrit.

He had returned.

When Aslaan had attempted his suicide.

Adolf had been away from the estate on business for several months.

Which meant Aslaan’s actions had not yet reached Adolf’s ears.

But now, arriving via Spatial Magic at precisely this moment—

Aslaan’s suicide attempt had found its way to him after all.

The timing could not have been worse.

‘If he learns that Aslaan attempted to take his own life, he won’t let it rest.’

He might well cast Aslaan out from the Igrit Family in disgrace.

She crossed the corridor in a fever of urgency.

Running for some distance, her feet finally carried her to the chamber where Aslaan lodged.

There, servants hurried past with expressions drained of all color.

Their faces bore the unmistakable look of those fleeing from something forbidden.

Lilina’s heart sank.

Their reaction meant they were witnessing something grave within the Igrit Family—something they should not see.

She pushed past them and entered the chamber.

The moment she stepped into the Training Ground where mages practiced their craft—

Searing heat washed across her face.

“Aslaan!”

She cried out without thinking.

Within a roiling sphere of flame, Aslaan was trapped, his hands clutched desperately around his throat in agony.

Before him stood an old man.

His hair, vivid crimson red despite his advanced years.

A thick red beard covered his face, and his eyes held a cold, vicious glint.

With a massive frame that seemed ill-suited to a mage, he was none other than the Flame King himself—Adolf Igrit.

He was glaring at Aslaan with barely contained fury.

“How dare you? The moment my back is turned, you commit such a disgrace?”
“Father! Stop, please stop!”

Agatha rushed forward in front of Adolf, her voice trembling with desperation.

Trapped inside the sphere of flame, Aslaan was suffocating in real time, oxygen draining from his lungs with each passing second.

At this rate, Aslaan would die.

Seeing Agatha unable to stand by and watch, Adolf let out a sharp laugh.

Crack!

In that instant, Agatha’s head snapped to the side.

Adolf had struck her, and she remained frozen in place, her father’s angry gaze boring into her.

“Didn’t I tell you long ago? That worm could never even qualify for the Mage Tower! A so-called direct descendant of the Igrit Family, throwing himself into death throes? And not just once or twice, but over and over!”

His eyes burned with a seething rage.

“And you, his mother—you can’t even manage your own son. What have you accomplished as Vice-Family Head?”

Adolf’s harsh voice thundered through the Training Ground, filling every corner.

Now she understood why the servants had fled.

They could not bear to hear the family’s shame laid bare.

Agatha could not bring herself to raise her head.

Though his words stung her pride, she had lived her entire life as a daughter of the Igrit Family.

Even as Vice-Family Head, the wall that was her father remained insurmountably high, and she feared it.

In the Igrit Family, his word was law.

“Ha… haha.”

Then, from within the sphere of flame, laughter began to echo.

The gazes of Adolf, his face twisted in rage, and Agatha, huddled on the ground, slowly turned toward the sphere.

What met their eyes was Aslaan.

Aslaan was laughing.

The moment Adolf saw that smile, his eyes contorted with fury.

“All these years I’ve struggled, and you never once acknowledged it. But now that I’m like this, you finally take notice.”

Despite his labored breathing, Aslaan gripped his throat as he spoke.

“Do you understand? Whether you’re ashamed of me or not, I am a Direct Descendant of the Igrit Family, and everything I do becomes the deed of a Direct Descendant of the Igrit Family.”

He spoke these words with a bitter laugh.

That laughter was unmistakably contemptuous.

“That vaunted Igrit name will shine brightly enough while the Family Head lives. But after that—do you truly believe it will remain the same?”

At the same moment, a sharp, venomous glint crystallized in Aslaan’s eyes.

“Do you honestly think I’ll simply allow it?”

The venom that dripped from his gaze was hatred—ancient and corrosive.

Cast aside by his own family from birth because of a single thing: his Lunar Constitution.

The mother who had always showered him with love and warmth had become cruel enough to kill her own son’s dearest friend with her own hands.

And the root cause of it all was none other than the Flame King standing before him now.

Aslaan knew this better than anyone—it was because of Adolf Igrit.

Agatha stared at him in a daze.

She understood how deep the resentment ran through her son’s heart.

And she knew with painful clarity that she herself was not exempt from blame for that hatred.

‘It’s all gone wrong.’

Everything had gone wrong.

The Igrit Family meant nothing to that boy.

All he had ever needed was one person who would be there for him.

Hot tears spilled from her eyes as she realized that she herself had destroyed her son with her own hands in the name of passing down this family.

She finally understood that she, too, was no different from Adolf—she had only ever imposed demands upon her son.

“You……”

Adolf’s eyes began to tremble at the sight.

Unable to contain his rage, he slowly began to raise his hand.

“Very well, then. I shall grant you your wish.”

Understanding what those words meant, Agatha belatedly threw her arm forward.

Adolf intended to kill Aslaan on this very spot.

“No!”

Her anguished cry tore through the air as magic erupted from Agatha’s hands.

“Caw!”

A raven shot upward into the sky.

And in that instant, as the raven’s feathers scattered into the air.

The figure who had transformed from raven into boy brought his blade down upon the Flame Sphere in a heartbeat.

Whoosh!

Black Flame erupted from the sword, cleaving Adolf’s Flame Sphere clean in half.

In the moment Adolf’s eyes widened at the sudden turn of events.

A hand reached out from behind the shattered sphere and yanked Aslaan’s tunic hard.

What gleamed through the flames was unmistakably a boy with black hair.

At the appearance of this boy, his blade wreathed in blue fire, even Adolf’s reaction faltered for a fraction of a second.

The boy seized Aslaan and, without hesitation, launched himself off the ground.

“You!”

Watching the boy spirit Aslaan away before his eyes, Adolf’s comprehension came too late. He turned to move after them.

But it was Agatha who stepped into his path.

With magic gathered in both her hands, she fixed Adolf with an unwavering gaze. His expression turned to utter disbelief.

“Vice-Family Head, have you lost your mind?”
“……My son is struggling so desperately to live.”

Aslaan’s words, spoken with such piercing anguish, had lodged themselves deep in Agatha’s heart.

She would not allow her son to suffer any longer.

“There is no one in this world who would condemn me for standing against someone who seeks to kill such a son.”

Agatha showed no sign of backing down.

Though she was a full tier beneath the Flame King, she would not yield as a mother.

“……Very well.”

Adolf, regarding her in silence, kindled flames in his palm.

“Perhaps a thorough beating will knock some sense into both of you.”

And within the Training Ground, two pillars of fire rose skyward.

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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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