I Became A Thief Who Steals Overpowered Skills - Chapter 60

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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 60. The Rebel’s Counterattack

It was the moment Adolf sought to burn Aslan alive with his flames.

“Aslan!”

Lirina’s scream tore through the air.

Her body moved of its own accord—feet sliding forward as she lunged toward him—when something else intervened.

It was not she, but a raven that moved first.

‘Krash?!’

As Lirina’s startled gaze fixed on the airborne bird, she saw it.

The raven transformed into Krash mid-flight, his blade cleaving Adolf’s sphere of flame in two.

Krash had been masking his true form all along, cloaked in Crimson Garden’s magic.

In the span of a heartbeat, he snatched Aslan from the inferno and wheeled toward Lirina.

“Run, Lirina!”

His voice held an urgency she’d never heard before. She spun on her heel and bolted without hesitation.

Between them, Aslan fluttered like paper in Krash’s grip.

“…I’m going to suffocate at this rate.”

Gasping as Krash yanked him by the collar, Aslan managed to choke out the words. Krash simply dropped him to the ground.

“Then use your own legs.”

Aslan’s neck suddenly free, he stumbled forward but found his rhythm, sprinting to keep pace with Krash and Lirina.

Lirina glanced back at Krash, her expression one of pure surprise.

“Krash—you were Krash the whole time?”
“Yes. My true form would have drawn too much attention in this place.”

At his answer, a hint of displeasure crossed Lirina’s face.

“You could have at least told me.”
“Consider it a surprise revelation.”
“I don’t need that kind of surprise. Plan something else next time.”
“I’ll prepare something bigger. You’ll have plenty to look forward to.”

As Lirina’s reply came out crisp and pointed, Aslan watched them both, his head tilting slightly.

“You two seem quite close.”

This was the first time Aslan had heard Lirina and Krash speak directly to each other.

Their exchange felt far more familiar than he’d expected. As the observation escaped his lips, both Lirina and Krash turned briefly toward each other but said nothing more.

Boom!

While Aslan observed the two of them, an explosion thundered from behind.

The blast was none other than the result of Adolf and Agatha clashing.

Realizing this was no time for idle talk, Aslan turned quickly to Lirina.

“Lirina, do you have Dorothy’s Crystal?”
“Yes, right here.”

Lirina rummaged through her skirt pocket and withdrew the Crystal.

At the sight of it, Aslan let out a sigh of relief.

The deception about his suicide had certainly proved useful.

“I have the Spirit King’s Egg. All that remains is to reach the Spirit King’s Forest.”

For a Spirit to be reborn, it required the power that dwelt within the Spirit King’s Forest.

Therefore, to bring Dorothy back to life, they had no choice but to go to the Spirit King’s Forest.

And so the three of them immediately left the Egrit Family Manor and began racing toward the Spirit King’s Forest.

But there was a problem.

It was Aslan’s lack of stamina.

Lirina managed well enough, being someone who stayed active; but Aslan had barely moved for months, having abstained from food and drink to the point of total withdrawal.

“Huff, huff…”

So his pace slowed with each step from the moment they left the manor.

“Tsk. Just let me carry you.”

Seeing this, Krash hoisted Aslan onto his back without ceremony.

He had no intention of wasting time and letting Adolf catch up.

“This is unfair. Running is hard for me too.”
“Then perhaps you should head back, Miss Lirina. There’s no need for you to follow all the way.”
“I have an obligation to see this through to the end.”

Lirina made clear she would not back down.

She was already involved in this.

At the very least, she wanted to witness with her own eyes how it would all end.

“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. You’re so thin anyway, carrying you feels like nothing.”

He couldn’t very well ask Lirina to be carried instead, much as he disliked carrying a man.

“That sounds like you’re saying I’m heavy even when I’m being carried.”

Krash did not answer Lirina’s remark.

Lirina’s expression grew slightly miffed, but the thought that Aslan probably weighed less than she did kept her from saying more.

Crash!

At that very moment, another explosion echoed from the direction of the Egrit Family Manor.

It was clear that Yeom Ju and Adolf were still locked in combat.

But the outcome wouldn’t take long to reveal itself.

‘There’s no way Yeom Ju can hold back Adolf.’

At the higher reaches of cultivation, a single step of difference became immense.

Krash had learned just how vast that single step could be through his time at the Starry Generation.

So it wouldn’t be long before Adolf broke through Yeom Ju’s defenses and came this way.

And a man like that wouldn’t be satisfied with merely defeating Yeom Ju—his rage would still be burning.

As they pressed forward, the massive stone wall encircling the Spirit King’s Forest began to come into view.

Before the gate stood soldiers, limp and still as though sleeping.

And standing before that wall was none other than Crimson Garden’s servant, Mirsis.

“You certainly took your time.”

Crimson Garden flicked her crimson hair back with a sharp gesture and tossed a Breathing Apparatus toward them.

Krash caught it and turned to Lirina.

“This is where you stay.”
“I understand.”

Lirina understood perfectly.

Aslan had at least learned magic, but she was an ordinary person.

If someone who couldn’t even control Mana or Aura entered the Spirit King’s Forest, it would be certain death.

Lirina looked at the two of them with undisguised longing, then grasped both Krash’s and Aslan’s shoulders firmly.

“Don’t you dare get hurt—either of you.”

Krash and Aslan nodded in unison.

Neither had any intention of causing further worry.

As they moved, Krash glanced toward Crimson Garden.

She was already equipped with a Breathing Apparatus, clearly ready.

“You understand this, don’t you? I won’t be able to stop Adolf.”

Of course he understood.

He’d planned to face Yeom Ju, certainly, but confronting Adolf had never been part of his scheme.

How could Krash have predicted that Adolf would return at precisely that moment?

Krash moved only because Aslan seemed to be in genuine distress; he’d have preferred to let the matter pass gracefully.

“I’m sorry for dragging you into this.”

Aslan apologized, his expression grim.

He clearly understood that he’d lost his composure in front of Adolf.

But Krash didn’t fault him for it.

He knew well enough that Aslan harbored a bitter hatred toward Adolf—a hatred that had festered for years.

A man who’d destroyed your entire life spouting whatever he pleased? Staying silent in the face of that would make you a saint, not a human being.

Krash knew he’d have no patience for it either if Arthur were the one running his mouth.

“Escape Magic should be within reach.”

When Krash asked Crimson Garden, she clicked her tongue.

“Don’t blame me if my spellwork is rusty in this form. If I’d known it would come to this, I’d have brought a different species along.”

But she didn’t refuse, complaining as she went—that was Crimson Garden through and through.

“We’re going in.”

The three pushed open the gates and stepped through, Lirina’s wave of farewell trailing behind them.

As they did, shimmering Spirit dust scattered in greeting to welcome them.

Amid the enchanting dance of luminous dust, Krash withdrew the Crystal and the Spirit King’s Egg that Lirina had entrusted to him.

He handed them to Aslan.

“Head straight in that direction. There’s a lake ahead where the light glows softly. Place the Crystal inside the Egg and submerge it there—that should do it.”

This method came from Aslan’s own research in a past life, before Krash had been born into this timeline.

He’d discovered a way to resurrect Dorothy through years of study.

Though by then, so much time had passed that it became impossible.

Yet his research bore fruit at last, carried forward through Krash into the present.

“…Understood.”

Aslan didn’t ask how Krash knew of this method.

For Dorothy’s sake, there was nothing he wouldn’t do.

Krash, Aslan, and Crimson Garden pressed forward, running deeper still.

The Spirit King’s Forest stretched on without any visible end.

And they had to remain vigilant against the Spirits that appeared at intervals.

One misstep with those creatures and combat would inevitably follow.

After a long stretch through the Spirit King’s Forest,

Before long, golden specks of light began to appear in Krash and Aslan’s eyes.

The space felt like night, dense with towering trees.

The golden dust clinging to the branches shimmered like a starlit sky.

And below those trees, stretching precariously across the horizon, lay a lake.

Countless particles of golden spirits drifted slowly across the water’s surface.

Beautiful.

The dreamlike lake—deserving of that single word—was known as the Spirit’s Resting Place.

Aslan stepped forward toward the water.

His heart began to thunder in his chest.

At the thought of seeing Dorothy again, an unexpected swell of emotion caught in his throat.

Tap, tap.

A girl from his memories surfaced—tapping at his window, her voice soft and insistent.

Hair and eyes of icy blue.

That girl with her delicate smile had come to find him secretly through Lirina.

“Good morning, Aslan.”

Even though the moon hung high in the night sky, he had smiled at her greeting him with “morning”.

He wanted to meet her again—that version of her from his memory.

It was the moment Aslan stepped toward the lake.

Whoosh!

A wall of flame erupted with roaring fire, blocking his path.

Aslan’s eyes flew wide.

Thud!

Behind Krash and Aslan, the sound of someone landing reverberated through the forest.

Aslan’s gaze began to turn slowly backward.

Hair with a distinct reddish tint swayed quietly between the trees.

And within that hair, burning red eyes looked down at Aslan—eyes ablaze with rage.

The Flame King, Adolf Egrit.

He had finally broken Yeom Ju and chased Krash and Aslan here.

“Playing along with children’s games ends here. Running all the way to the Spirit King’s Forest?”

Adolf’s thick white brows rose in displeasure.

His breath came sharp with anger, each exhale carrying barely restrained fury.

Yet he was holding it back, just barely.

This was the Spirit King’s Forest—make too much noise and the Spirits would rampage. That would become a headache of its own.

“Aslan, and the little one beside you. Both of you, come with me.”

Krash heard the command and glanced subtly around.

That Crimson Garden—quick as she was, the moment Adolf appeared she’d slipped from sight.

Krash’s grip tightened on his sword hilt.

What now?

Running might be an option. It had merit.

No matter how accomplished Adolf was, he was a master of Flame Magic alone—not versed in every art like Crimson Garden.

Knowing precisely which magics she wielded, Krash was confident he could escape with her Escape Magic, no matter what Adolf threw at them.

‘But.’

He hadn’t revived Dorothy yet.

Breaking into the Spirit King’s Forest like this—it wouldn’t happen again. Once, maybe twice, but not thrice.

He had no guarantee of a next time.

Besides, after this was done, no one could predict what treatment Aslan would receive from the Egrit Family.

‘I was blind with rage before, talking about killing.’

But facing Agatha directly—her actual daughter—had cooled his anger somewhat.

He despises his family.

Adolf knows well enough that rumors of him killing his own daughter and grandson would damage the family’s standing.

So he wouldn’t kill Aslan. He’d assign punishment, yes, but not death.

What he would do was condemn Aslan to a sentence from which he could never again leave the Egrit Family.

This, then, was effectively the last chance to save Dorothy.

“Krash Balheim.”

In that moment, Aslan—who had been following—spoke his full name aloud.

The sudden declaration was understood immediately by Krash. He knew what it meant.

“What, Balheim?”

Adolf turned his gaze sharply toward Krash, eyes wide.

The Red Tower mages dismiss all things save Aura, Curses, and similar magics.

But Adolf, as one of the Top Ten of the World, had traveled the world itself.

A world teeming with monsters more fearsome than magic itself.

So he kept a wary eye on those who wielded Aura instead of relying on magic alone.

Above all, Balheim—standing at the very pinnacle among such Aura users—occupied a place of special vigilance in his thoughts.

‘I’d assumed he was merely an acquaintance of Aslan’s.’

Balheim of all people.

An unexpected presence in this place.

At the same moment, Adolf’s mind raced through its calculations.

Adolf always kept tabs on the state of the world.

And he paid particular attention to news concerning Balheim.

It was then that he recalled a rumor that had been circulating recently.

‘That’s right.’

Hadn’t there been word that Balheim’s youngest had broken the chains of a World Erosion servant and made a miraculous comeback?

The boy before his eyes appeared to be in his mid-teens.

If so, the ages matched up with the rumored youngest.

A question flitted through his mind: why would a direct heir of Balheim be here?

Since Yeom Ju, his deputy, had handled the personnel deployment reports for Balheim’s Blue Sea Knights, it was possible he’d been left out of the loop.

“To be honest, I’m not sure why you want to take the Lunar Sound Body.”

Aslan spoke as he gazed at the blazing wall before him.

From everything Krash had shown so far, he knew the Lunar Sound Body would have its uses for him.

Yet even so, he couldn’t quite understand why Krash would need something as cursed as the Lunar Sound Body.

The Lunar Sound Body had played the biggest role in reducing Aslan’s life to this state.

“But if it’s truly what you need. Or if you need it now.”

Aslan’s eyes, once vacant and lifeless, now blazed with resolve as he called out to Krash.

“Take it.”

That was the word he’d been waiting for.

The moment the light gathered in Krash’s hand rose, Aslan thrust his foot toward the wall of flame.

“What?”

Adolf, startled by what amounted to near-suicide, moved quickly to restrain Aslan.

But blocking his path was none other than Krash.

Adolf’s eyes widened in shock.

Though he’d let his guard slip, the truth was that Krash’s movements were faster than he’d anticipated.

At that same moment, Adolf’s eyes caught Krash’s form with perfect clarity.

Smoke curled from his lips as his entire body burned with the intensity of molten lava.

The vitality pouring from that frame—blazing fiercely as though fire itself raged within—seemed to have shattered his very limits by force.

‘Fast.’

A speed that defied his apparent age.

Krash was so fast that Adolf found himself thinking he must have already set foot in the Master realm.

At the same time, Adolf distinctly felt the power coiling within Krash’s scabbard.

A formidable force potent enough to draw even Adolf’s attention—he who was called one of the Top Ten of the World.

And in that instant, black flames erupted from Krash’s scabbard, charged with such power.

Crash—crash—crash—crash—crash—crash—crash—crash—crash—crash—crash—crash—crash—crash—crash!

Krash’s blade struck Adolf’s Protection Magic—the barrier that constantly enveloped his body—with a tremendous, violent sound.

As that piercing noise reverberated outward, Adolf’s eyes twisted sharply.

Naturally, the Protection Magic didn’t shatter.

But the impact was fierce enough to make Adolf’s Protection Magic vibrate.

Fierce enough that he had to withdraw the hand he’d been reaching out to seize Aslan with.

“Huh?”

An involuntary exclamation escaped his lips.

For a child who didn’t even appear to have reached adulthood yet, the power on display was utterly absurd.

‘Balheim has spawned a monster.’

He’d known a new star had been born in the form of the Sword Saint, but he’d never expected another to appear.

Did the blood of Balheim truly carry divine blessing?

‘No… this one is different somehow.’

Especially those black flames—ominous beyond measure.

They were close to a Curse.

‘What does this brat have inside him? It feels like a Curse concentrated and condensed into its purest form.’

If Charlotte—that famous name—was the Sword Saint, a star so sublime and pure white,

then this one felt like a black star with darkness dripping from it relentlessly.

Even as such thoughts crossed his mind, Aslan passed through the barrier of flames.

Adolf, whose attention had been captured by Krash, cast a glance toward Aslan.

The instant Aslan was engulfed in flame, he dove into the lake.

Bubbles rising from the water’s surface suggested, at least, that he hadn’t perished.

Since Aslan had thrown himself in at the same moment he’d hastily lowered the barrier, he likely hadn’t suffered grievous wounds.

But he couldn’t simply leave things as they were.

He had to fish Aslan out and escape.

Clang-clang-clang-clang!

Yet the Protection Magic surrounding him shuddered violently once more.

Krash’s blade had struck his barrier again.

“Will the Top Ten of the World truly turn his back before a successor?”

Then, as though tailoring the provocation to Adolf’s age, he hurled out a stale taunt.

Adolf let out a sharp breath.

“My grandson has fallen in with poor company, it seems.”

Adolf opened one fist deliberately.

It seemed he would have to discipline not only his grandson but also correct the habits of the boy’s unruly friend while he was at it.

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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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