I Became A Thief Who Steals Overpowered Skills - Chapter 78

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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 78. Breaking the Limit Again

Clang! Clang!

Beneath the ringing of clashing blades.

After already trading blows with Nakcheon for quite some time, ragged breathing tore from Lakcradion’s lips.

Perhaps it was no lie that she had devoted everything in her life to a single sword.

Lakcradion did not yield against Nakcheon, meeting his blade head-on.

Yet the wounds upon her body continued to multiply.

That stemmed directly from the nature of Ureongseong.

Each time the blades collided, the Aura that erupted like thunder rippled past the sword itself, carving wounds into Lakcradion.

Because of this, Lakcradion had to maintain Aura around her body at all times, and it was being consumed at a ferocious rate.

It would have been different if she were like Charlotte, whose Aura overflowed no matter how much she poured out.

Lakcradion’s Aura, merely a step above Ordinary Talent, was nothing more than the difference between a stream and a lake.

With such thin Aura, she could not fully block the effects of Ureongseong.

But that was not the only problem.

Slash!

In the briefest opening she could find, Lakcradion succeeded in her attack, drawing her blade across Nakcheon’s arm.

Yet the moment his flesh was torn, Nakcheon’s arm regenerated instantly.

This was precisely why Nakcheon earned the reputation of a monster who could never be felled.

With the support of Maseong Palace, Nakcheon possessed infinite regeneration—even if his neck were severed, he would be restored.

A monster that regenerated no matter how many times you killed it, now wielding Ureongseong and using Aura infinitely.

It was no wonder that countless others found themselves driven to despair before him.

Nakcheon alone was already Out of Standard—and now, Immortality as well.

Everyone had naturally abandoned hope of reaching the 9th Floor.

Yet Lakcradion stood before such a Nakcheon.

She who had once fallen.

Clang!

As the blade sang once more, the shockwave of Aura that burst forth became a cutting edge itself, wounding Lakcradion anew.

As her breath grew shallow, her lungs burned as though they might tear.

Yet Lakcradion gripped her sword with grim determination, receiving Nakcheon’s assault.

Perhaps it was the accumulation of countless wounds rather than any single grave injury.

Blood soaked her clothes in patches here and there, and the loss of it combined with her depleting strength left her mind wavering at the edges.

‘A little longer.’

But she forced her dimming consciousness to hold on.

And once more, she received Nakcheon’s blade.

‘A little longer.’

Lakcradion felt all sound and awareness of her surroundings fade away.

She poured every ounce of her focus into the man before her—Nakcheon alone.

Perhaps because of this, her blade moved faster than ever before.

She understood now where each stroke must land to deliver its full power to her opponent.

And what form of swordplay she needed to hold back against, to buy herself more precious moments of time.

These insights filled her entire being.

It was an awakening.

One more step up the wall, climbing higher.

Though the summit lay far ahead, many steps yet remained, still this steady ascent lifted her once more.

“Ha.”

Lakcradion let out a short, breathless laugh.

So this was it.

This was the world she had yearned to see, the reason she had wielded her blade so fiercely all this time.

Only now did she remember why she had once hungered so desperately to grow through the sword.

Crack!

Shreds of flesh, cleaved away by the blade’s aftermath, scattered onto the ground with a wet patter.

Yet she was not yet strong enough to break Nakcheon.

But the path was clear.

Climbing steadily was her gift.

This alone was a tremendous achievement.

“So, Krash.”

Lakcradion’s voice rose from within the black flames that now engulfed everything around her.

“You need not concern yourself with me any longer.”

Thud, crack!

The moment sparks erupted and a sharp crack echoed across the air.

Black flames surged up along the fracture, engulfing the entire carriage.

The carriage collapsed, revealing the bare grassland beneath.

Nakcheon and Lakcradion plummeted, their forms crossing paths in the fall.

Already bearing many wounds and depleted of strength, Lakcradion could do nothing as the earth rushed toward her.

So when she closed her eyes,

she felt herself caught—not crushed by impact, but held.

Crash!

It was Krash.

Though slightly shorter than she was,

he had caught her effortlessly, absorbed the carriage’s fall, and stood firm upon the prairie.

Krash set her down gently.

Lakcradion staggered, bowing her head.

“Thank you for waiting.”

Lakcradion had sensed it: Krash could have burned the carriage to ash long ago.

But he had waited.

He had perceived that she was growing, taking her stand in this very moment.

Had she been a soaring genius, she would have seized this chance and ascended with newfound wings, but she remained caught between ordinary talent and genius—neither one nor the other.

So the step she had taken was scarcely visible to anyone else’s eye, barely a footfall at all.

Yet Krash could see it with perfect clarity.

He understood that he, too, had once fought with the same desperate effort for such a single, small step.

“You’ve done well.”

Leaving Lakcradion behind, Krash turned and began walking across the field.

This lay beyond Maseong Palace—

some unknown stretch of grassland.

Fortunately, no sign of the armed princess.

The carriage had been moving constantly, shifting terrain, so it had likely crashed somewhere far from this place.

Through the smoke that rose from the carriage’s wreckage, an old man’s figure appeared, standing on the plain.

The old man wielded the Ureongseong at length, his chest caved inward, ribs laid bare.

His ragged breathing seemed as though he might collapse at any moment.

Of course. That was only natural.

The old man had been extending his life through Maseong Palace, but the moment he stepped outside, he began burning through his own vitality.

He no longer possessed infinite regeneration or life force.

Outside Maseong Palace, Nakcheon was simply an old swordsman—nothing more.

‘Had he emerged a few years further gone, he would have crumbled on the spot.’

According to Velokin, Nakcheon had collapsed the moment the carriage shattered and he exited, becoming a corpse right then and there.

By that point, he must have been completely drained of life force.

Thanks to that, Velokin had obtained the Ureongseong with minimal difficulty.

But now Nakcheon had not collapsed as he had then.

It meant some trace of his life force still remained.

“No need for words, it seems.”

Nakcheon was no longer bound by Maseong Palace.

His mind must have returned as well.

Yet instead of speaking, he answered by leveling his sword at Krash.

A crimson gleam flashed distinctly in Nakcheon’s eyes as he faced Krash.

They burned as though he meant to incinerate every last shred of his remaining life force in this final battle.

A life already forfeit.

To fight as a swordsman to the very end. Was that it?

Truly, a man unto himself.

‘Perhaps.’

He might be seeking to confirm one last time whether Krash was truly suited to the Ureongseong.

‘Though I’m only guessing.’

Krash lowered his stance, preparing the Sword Ghost’s Quick Draw.

If his opponent wished to fight, he would oblige.

There was something he wanted to test as well.

The next instant, Nakcheon pushed off the ground and charged.

The golden aura radiating from the Ureongseong was overwhelming in its presence.

Facing such an opponent, Krash’s response was to close his eyes.

Crack—

In that moment, sparks danced across Krash’s body.

In the instant that brief spark crossed between them.

Clang!

Krash’s blade, drawn without warning, collided with Nakcheon’s.

Nakcheon’s eyes narrowed, a faint glimmer appearing between his brows.

He withdrew Ureongseong in the same stance as the collision, then thrust his blade forward once more.

Clang!

Clang, clang, clang!

And Nakcheon’s sword dance had begun.

True to his nature as a Sword Phantom, the blades pouring from Nakcheon were like a torrential downpour.

Within that fierce deluge.

Krash, his eyes closed in stillness, received every strike Nakcheon threw at him.

But that was not all.

Despite the nature of Ureongseong meaning Krash should inevitably suffer wounds from the Aura’s reverberations, not a single mark appeared on his body.

This was because Krash was deflecting even the reverberations of Ureongseong entirely through his blade.

Nakcheon’s brow twisted.

Although he was the one attacking, Krash’s stance kept advancing forward inch by inch.

A situation he could not fathom was unfolding before his eyes.

‘It works.’

Despite keeping his eyes shut while receiving Nakcheon’s sword dance, Krash sensed the killing intent far more vividly than before.

Crackle!

His Sixth Sense spread Aura’s threads thin, threading through every gap.

Rainer’s sparks, traveling along those threads, continued sending electric signals to Krash.

The signals perceived everything—even the invisible reverberations of Aura.

And those perceptions, true to lightning’s nature, transmitted information to Krash instantaneously.

The Sixth Sense meeting Rainer had elevated the information-gathering ability to a higher plane.

And the moment Mookgeom was added to the equation.

Krash had stepped into a realm entirely different from anything before.

‘One meter.’

The space of a single stride.

This space was a new threshold born where the Sixth Sense and Rainer converged.

Byeokryeok.

A new realm of the blunt sword that responded to everything with the force of lightning.

“Khrrgh!”

Watching Krash close in step by step, Nakcheon made a sound like blood boiling in his throat.

He had accepted that this alone would not pierce through Krash.

So Nakcheon decided to change his approach.

Crash!

Krash’s blade and Nakcheon’s blade collided, and a violent impact erupted.

Even though he had channeled the force away using Byeokryeok, the impact still reached him.

“Damn this crazy old crone.”

And Krash, who had received the blade, showed an equally bewildered reaction.

The wrinkles across Nakcheon’s face deepened in an instant.

But in exchange, the Ureongseong swinging toward Krash burned far more intensely than before.

The Seoncheon Jigi—called the wellspring of life itself.

He was burning that very life force now, spending his remaining lifespan to feed the flames even more brilliantly.

“I’m going to die anyway. Why not this way!”

With a shout, Krash drew upon the Myeolhwa Chimshik.

If he was willing to draw on the Seoncheon Jigi, then Krash would match that resolve.

The moment the heat of the Myeolhwa Chimshik, seeping into every corner of Krash’s body, entered its second stage, the motion of his blade transformed.

Crash!

The successive explosions made it impossible to believe the two were wielding blades at all.

Pure power against pure power.

With eyes burning bright red and trailing smoke, Krash began to collide with Nakcheon.

Crash, crash, crash!

Sweat flew in droplets.

Even using the Myeolhwa Chimshik, his bones chattered and his muscles screamed as though tearing.

The heat of the Myeolhwa Chimshik made it feel as though his insides would be cooked away at any moment.

And the same was true for Nakcheon.

His burned life force ebbed away with each passing moment, draining vitality from his body, and his skin aged rapidly, darkening and withering.

The muscles clinging to his arms continued to shrivel, revealing skeletal bone beneath.

Yet the Ureongseong that drew in Nakcheon’s aura blazed with an even fiercer golden light.

And atop Krash’s Mookgeom, a pitch-black flame raged with ravenous intensity, consuming all in its path.

Golden radiance and black fire collided once more, setting the air itself ablaze.

From a distance, Lakcradion watched in rapt silence, scarcely breathing.

She understood that both men had wrung every last measure of strength from themselves, striving to transcend the bounds of humanity itself.

Boom!

Within the deafening roar that erupted—

Krash gripped his blade with fingers on the verge of tearing.

‘One second ahead.’

It was the measure of time his body, accelerated by Myeolhwa Chimshik, was screaming at him.

At the same moment, Krash sensed that Nakcheon too had reached his limit.

The next exchange would be their last.

When both Nakcheon and Krash realized this truth—

Nakcheon’s blade moved first.

His sword transcended gold and arrived at pure, brilliant white.

Every drop of his life force was poured into that blade, which carried the singular will to cleave asunder all things.

That ominous luminescence, which made even the very air seem to warp and distort, appeared to have lifted him wholly beyond the realm of mortal men.

The hair on Lakcradion’s neck stood on end at the sight.

Even without facing it directly, she knew.

To meet that blade was to meet death.

“Krash!”

She cried out his name in a voice edged with despair.

Yet Krash had already sunk into a profound stillness.

Deep within Krash’s consciousness—

A single drop fell upon an endless Lake, sending ripples spreading outward.

It was the process through which Krash would reach that one final stroke, that singular blade born of Sword-Body Unity.

But this time, the process was different from all that had come before.

Above the flames that had burned so fiercely and alone—

A single bolt of lightning was ascending.

Above the Mookgeom—

Lightning wrapped around it like a scabbard, its form perfectly defined.

In that same instant, within the sheath of lightning, Krash’s black flame began to roam wildly, as though channeling the Sword Ghost’s Quick Draw.

The moment the Quick Draw merged with the lightning scabbard.

The power grew steadily, and soon it swelled into a tempest.

The sword in his grip felt as though it might shatter under the weight.

Yet Krash clenched his teeth and held fast, bearing down with stubborn resolve against that overwhelming force.

When the tempest finally reached its apex.

Krash’s eyes blazed open, and in that instant the lightning scabbard split asunder.

A flash!

Light erupted in a single brilliant moment, consuming all.

The black flame, transformed into a tempest, finally revealed itself to the world.

Myeolhwa Chimshik.

Third Form.

Myeolhwa Cheonroe.

In that moment when black flame and lightning’s tempest consumed all light.

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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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