I Became A Thief Who Steals Overpowered Skills - Chapter 70

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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 70. Building Foundations

2nd Floor: Flame Gambit.

3rd Floor: The Gate of Saro.

4th Floor: A Hundred Saturations.

5th Floor: Natural Traps.

6th Floor: The Knights’ Realm.

And roughly a month had passed.

They had at last arrived at the 6th Floor.

Krash and the three others were advancing, having carved the shortest path through all the preceding floors.

There had been considerable combat, and the time spent within the Demonic Palace had been long enough.

Krash and all three companions bore the marks of their journey—their clothes torn and worn in various places.

Yet that was merely the surface.

Krash and Lachradion stood at the forefront, weapons in hand, facing down a vast swarm of giant ants that surged toward them.

“Are those two monsters? Their stamina never seems to flag.”

Derek spoke in a tone of weary exasperation, watching Krash and Lachradion fight.

It made sense—those two had barely rested at all since ascending to the 6th Floor, fighting nearly every moment.

What could possibly drive them to such a fever pitch of combat?

They seemed to regard every moment of rest as a waste, relentless in their refusal to stop.

“It’s good to see, though. I haven’t witnessed Lachradion showing this much drive in a long time.”

Derek didn’t argue the point.

In the days before, Lachradion had wielded her blade daily, yet all her drive had been extinguished.

Though she rarely expressed her feelings openly, Derek had always recognized that she’d been trapped in a rut of mere repetition.

But now was different.

As she pushed through to the 6th Floor alongside Krash, she was steadily reclaiming the vitality she’d once possessed.

And among all that had revived her spirit, it was chiefly the sparring matches with Krash during their brief rest periods that had lifted her most.

“Lachradion, let’s spar for a bit.”

When Derek and Fenitchelli first heard those words, they’d thought he’d lost his mind.

With the Demonic Palace urgently awaiting conquest.

To burn stamina on sparring during rest periods seemed utterly senseless.

Yet for some reason, Lachradion accepted the challenge.

Both were taken aback, but once she’d committed to it, neither could object.

In the end, the two of them simply watched in silence.

‘I shouldn’t use too much power. Pure swordplay without Aura would be acceptable, wouldn’t it?’
‘Yes, that works for me.’

Fortunately, both seemed to have the same idea—neither drew upon their Aura.

And when the bout began, the result was Krash’s complete and utter defeat.

It was jarring to call it an expected outcome.

Derek and Fenitchelli had heard that Krash had overwhelmed Pendal decisively.

They’d assumed at worst the match would be even, yet to fall so easily—neither had anticipated it.

While the two of them exchanged puzzled glances, Lachradion’s eyes widened perceptibly.

Krash’s swordwork was, to be honest, ordinary.

More precisely, it bordered on the clumsy.

Against Pendal, his victories had come through layering countless variables, unconventional tactics, and situational foresight.

Krash himself had never devoted serious effort to mastering the blade.

Lachradion understood then.

This man, bereft of even a shred of natural talent, had clawed his way to this height through sheer struggle—a struggle on a wholly different scale than anything she’d ever witnessed.

The next day, and the day after that, Krash asked her for another match.

Lachradion accepted each time.

The results spoke for themselves.

Krash was thrown to the ground repeatedly, defeated each bout.

Yet gradually, Lachradion began to notice something.

As if mimicking her, Krash was beginning to embed her Fundamentals into his very body.

‘Lachradion is renowned for one thing above all—her Fundamentals.’

Her swordplay was so honest it sometimes left her vulnerable to counter, but by honing that honesty alone, she had reached the threshold of the Master rank.

Krash had seen countless prodigies.

They were all extraordinary, all exceptional.

But their growth had been built upon their natural gifts.

It was different—wholly different—from the foundation of someone of modest talent who had barely clawed through to the threshold of Master rank.

Krash was no genius.

Thus, ironically, Lachradion proved the most suitable candidate to study the foundation Krash had built.

A genius, no matter how much one studies their work, operates from a fundamentally different base.

That was why Krash decided to copy her swordplay.

Knowing his own fundamentals were lacking, he was determined to grow by replicating Lachradion’s basics, however he could.

That resolve came through clearly in every sparring match, and somehow it made Lachradion smile.

A strange creature, truly.

And in a way, he had no pride at all.

To steal another’s technique and learn it was a disgrace for any swordsman.

Much less for a direct descendant of Balheim, the strongest.

When there were surely far greater masters he could study under, he deliberately chose to steal her fundamentals instead.

How absurd it should have seemed.

Yet the resolve that burned in his eyes was genuine.

An obsession to seize everything, without exception.

It was frightening in its intensity.

And witnessing it, Lachradion understood.

How he had managed to break Pendal despite such a chasm in cultivation, how he had grown this strong.

And why she sensed he would grow stronger still.

‘To realize how meaningless pride truly is, in a moment like this.’

And seeing that fire in his eyes, Lachradion too set aside her pride.

If Krash would learn from her,

then she would learn from Krash the unconventionality he possessed.

Though their sparring sessions appeared to show Krash receiving instruction in the fundamentals,

when they stormed the Demonic Palace, Lachradion found herself the student, learning from Krash instead.

Krash was pure eccentricity made flesh.

Having mastered all manner of disparate techniques, he drew upon each one fluidly, adapting them moment by moment in combat.

Even Derek and Fenitchelli could only marvel at the sight.

Krash, scaling walls and vaulting over obstacles while wielding Black Flame, was nothing short of overwhelming.

So Lachradion stopped pursuing honesty alone.

Strength has many paths.

And straightforward momentum is not always the answer.

She was only now beginning to understand that truth.

And for her, it was also a single step toward breaking through a wall.

So it was only natural that Lachradion felt joy.

She had climbed barely one foothold up that towering barrier, yet the exhilaration was beyond words.

For a swordmaster, there was nothing more precious than such a handful of enlightenment.

‘Krash, might I ask you something?’

When they reached the entrance of the 6th Floor, Lachradion posed a question to Krash.

‘What drives you to grow so strong?’

If she pursued the same goal, could she advance further?

So when she asked, Krash glanced at her and answered.

‘Trying to stop the world from ending, once.’

Lachradion’s eyes blinked.

It was absurdly far-fetched, yet she could feel sincerity in Krash’s words.

The world ending, of all things.

She wondered why a perfectly sound world would ever perish.

Yet she also thought: perhaps only a goal so vast could drive one to such strength.

She mused that sometimes a grand ambition born in youth could become the very purpose that sustains one’s striving ahead.

Though she did not notice that every word of it was true.

In any case, thanks to that, Krash and Lachradion descended through the Demonic Palace with almost no rest between encounters.

And so they soon arrived at the 6th Floor of the Demonic Palace—the Guardian’s chamber.

A vast plaza with stone statues of all kinds standing flush against the walls.

In its center, the Guardian statue that protected the 6th Floor awaited them—a figure mounted on a stone horse, a colossal Shield and Crescent Moon Blade slung across its back.

Neigh—

At the arrival of the four, the stone horse whinnied as though it were alive.

Break through this one, and it’s the 7th Floor.

Just one more level—and then Krash would face Nakcheon.

“Crimson Garden.”

At Krash’s soft call, Crimson Garden fluttered her wings slowly and soared up into the air above the plaza.

Watching her, Krash swept his gaze across the surroundings.

As they had climbed this far, Krash and the others had discovered the traces of someone who had passed before them.

And those traces belonged to none other than Pendal.

Just as Pendal had declared, Pendal had entered the Demonic Palace before Krash and was already challenging it.

Whether he truly knew a shortcut or not, he was cutting through the Demonic Palace at an astonishing pace.

After all, Pendal was someone who had frequented the place almost daily up until just before the 8th Floor.

For him, it would have been child’s play.

‘Perhaps I was too quick to assume he’d set traps for me.’

Krash had thought Pendal would pull some tricks, given that he wasn’t exactly the straightforward type.

Yet surprisingly, there had been no machinations from Pendal along the path to this point.

Could it be that he genuinely intended to face Nakcheon head-on with all his strength?

‘If that were true, he’d have achieved something in the Demonic Palace long ago.’

Unfortunately, Krash did not hold Pendal in such high regard.

“Krash.”

At that moment, hearing Lachradion’s call, Krash turned his head.

She, who always appeared ready for battle, was reclaiming her radiance with each passing moment.

As if this had always been the path she was meant to walk.

Her light was like the dawn itself.

“Right. Time to head to the 7th Floor.”

Krash spoke those words and slowly drew up Flame Consumption.

In that instant, heat swept through his body, driving his physical capabilities to their absolute peak.

Clatter-clatter!

At that moment, the stone horse began to gallop alongside the Guardian.

The earth trembled beneath the thundering hooves of the beast, several times larger than a man.

Krash and Lachradion leaped from the ground simultaneously.

These two had spent the past month descending to the 6th Floor, their movements synchronized.

They reached the Guardian’s position before even the galloping stone horse could.

The panicked Guardian wielded his Shield and Crescent Moon Blade in haste, attempting to strike them down, but both moved with the fluidity of water.

Slice! Crackle!

The sound of cutting and the roar of burning erupted in a single moment.

Krash’s blade wreathed in Black Flame by Ignis and Lachradion’s blade crowned with an Aura Blade had severed the stone horse’s front legs in one stroke.

Boom!

The stone statue’s front legs vanished in an instant, and the Guardian tumbled headlong as the horse collapsed beneath it.

But unlike ordinary humans, a Guardian did not perish simply from being thrown.

It merely shed some fragments of stone.

Rising at once, it thrust the Crescent Moon Blade toward the two of them.

The stone Crescent Moon Blade was genuinely menacing.

It possessed strength befitting a weapons fortress—but their opponents were Krash and Lachradion.

Their blades crossed in perfect unison, intercepting the Crescent Moon Blade simultaneously.

Boom!

The statue’s force so vastly exceeded human limits that the ground beneath Krash and Lachradion cracked and splintered with a grinding crunch.

Yet neither gave ground an inch; instead, they drew up their Aura.

Whoosh!

As Lachradion’s and Krash’s blades soared skyward together, the statue lost the strength to resist, and the Crescent Moon Blade flew free with a dull thud.

In that widening gap.

The statue hastily drew its Shield forward, but Lachradion pierced the opening first.

Her blade, honest and direct, met the Shield head-on.

“Krash!”

And answering that call, Krash arrived inside the Guardian in a flash, heat rippling in his wake.

The Crescent Moon Blade was raised high; Lachradion held the Shield locked.

There was nothing left to defend its hollow core.

Krash’s blade was unleashed with full force at the Power Source that moved the Guardian from within.

Crack-crack-crack-crunch!

The stone statue shattered, and the Guardian’s body was severed cleanly along with its Power Source.

Robbed of its Power Source, the Guardian crumbled to dust, and both Lachradion and Krash swiftly retreated from its remains.

It was, without exaggeration, a perfect synchrony of breath.

“Again I’m reminded—beyond guidance, I’m hardly needed at all.”

Derek tapped his belly with a hearty laugh at the sight.

Originally, Lachradion alone could have cleared the 6th Floor with ease.

With Krash added to that, there was no reason for him to step in.

“There wasn’t much for me to do either.”

Though she had cast Holy Magic several times to address the minor wounds they’d sustained along the way, Fenitchelli wore a look of disappointment.

But they know it too.

They won’t be able to fight so comfortably when they face Nakcheon before long.

-Kid.

While Krash loosened his muscles lightly, deactivating Flame Consumption.

Crimson Garden descended onto his shoulder.

In that moment, Krash noticed her eyes were fixed on something.

It was none other than the doorway to the 7th Floor, opened when the Guardian of the 6th Floor fell.

“Crimson?”

At Krash’s puzzled response, Crimson Garden’s expression grew slightly displeased.

-The aura of Traps hangs thick in that place.

In that instant, Krash’s gaze turned toward the entrance.

Krash immediately shifted his body to the entrance of the 7th Floor.

Of course, Krash himself felt nothing.

Only Crimson Garden, who had lived through countless ages, would be capable of sensing it.

A grim smile crossed Krash’s lips.

He knew all too well who had prepared that Trap.

‘It’s begun.’

Pendal’s handiwork.

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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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