I Became A Thief Who Steals Overpowered Skills - Chapter 79

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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 79. Collapsing Again?

In the wake of the Black Flame and the storm of the divine sword’s collision.

Krash was quietly catching his breath.

From the intensity of battle, his vision blurred before his eyes.

At the same time, his aching body yearned to collapse to the ground any moment now.

But Krash stubbornly resisted that temptation.

Crack, crack-crack!

At that moment, fissures began spreading across Krash’s Black Sword.

Despite the Black Sword’s reputation for durability, it could not withstand Krash’s Annihilation Flame Thunder, and fractures had appeared.

The blade Krash had forged with concentrated power continued to increase in destructive force.

A secret art with destructive power that even Master-level individuals would struggle to endure if unleashed just once.

And Krash was continuously refining this secret art.

Just once.

In that single strike, Krash was approaching the realm of ultimate strength itself.

The problem was that the burden placed upon him increased at the same rate as the destructive force.

Krash clenched his fists tightly.

‘Advanced once more.’

The Thunder Scabbard, forged through Lioneor.

The result of combining that Thunder Scabbard with the explosive power of the Sword Spirit’s Iaijutsu.

Krash no longer needed to assume the basic stance of sheathing the blade—the fundamental act of Iaijutsu.

He had transcended the limitations inherent to Iaijutsu.

Therefore, Annihilation Flame Thunder could not be called Iaijutsu.

It was a new secret art born from gathering elements of Krash’s various secret arts and skills one by one.

‘Of course, since the output demand is so high, I won’t be able to use it except once at critical moments.’

Escaping the conventional Iaijutsu form would not be easy in normal circumstances.

Perhaps because of that, thirst gripped him.

An intense thirst to grow stronger.

Gripping the shattered Black Sword, Krash sharpened his senses to their peak.

Then he waited quietly for the smoke to clear.

Moments later, as the smoke dispersed, the scene he had wrought began to come into focus.

Before the ravaged expanse of scorched earth.

An old man lay collapsed on the ground.

The elder, drained of all vitality until scarcely bone remained, no longer drew breath.

Confirming this, Krash moved forward with heavy steps.

From the old man’s tightly clenched fist, Krash took up the Ouraesung.

The blade lay empty, void of form.

Krash quietly summoned his Aura.

Thunder crackled.

As the sound of thunder rolled forth, a golden blade formed, tracing the path of Krash’s Aura.

Into it, Krash poured the power of World Erosion.

And there, upon the golden blade, Black Flame bloomed like ink.

Though he wielded it for the first time, it fit his hand as though he had carried it his whole life.

Truly, it deserved to be called a Divine Sword.

Krash secured the Ouraesung carefully and turned to leave.

There, Crimson Garden waited alongside Lakcradion.

“After I went to all that trouble procuring you a sword, you smash it to pieces—honestly, you have no sense of restraint.”

Though Crimson Garden spoke curtly, she too understood the value of the Ouraesung.

For that reason, she said nothing more on the matter.

The problem was Lakcradion.

“Krash, that lightning…….”

She had watched Lioneor, Pendal’s skill, countless times before.

She would certainly have recognized it as Pendal’s technique the moment she saw it.

‘With Ignis, the World Erosion I obtained through Extreme Blood Poison overlapped with it and appeared as a curse, so no one seemed to notice Ignis was him.’

Lioneor had no such concealment, so Lakcradion could not help but recognize it.

“It’s my skill. I took it from Pendal.”

So Krash spoke without reservation.

There was no other way to explain it, after all.

“Despicable.”

He, who had even stolen the skills of a former comrade as he lay dying.

From Lakcradion’s perspective, it was something she had every right to criticize.

“No, actually… if it had been Pendal, I think he would have been grateful to fight Nakseon like this at all.”

Rather, Lakcradion bowed her head as if expressing gratitude.

Krash scratched his head awkwardly for a moment.

That was enough of this conversation.

“Lakcradion.”
“Yes.”

At Krash’s call, Lakcradion rummaged through her belongings.

A scroll emerged from her robes, carefully preserved even through the violent battle.

It was the Coordinate-Designated Teleport Scroll she had purchased in Halgram not long ago for a small fortune.

The coordinates had been preset to the entrance of Masung Palace.

Since it had been prepared for this very day, Krash stepped before it.

“I’ll activate it now.”

The moment she tore the scroll with a soft sound, the plains beneath Krash and Lakcradion’s feet were replaced by paved stone ground.

Before the entrance of Masung Palace.

Krash, who had returned to that place now in broad daylight, staggered as he took his first step.

Lakcradion quickly moved to support him.

“Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. I just need to hold on a little longer until I see a familiar face.”

Krash patted Lakcradion’s arm dismissively and stood on his own.

He looked as though he might collapse any moment, but he held himself up through sheer willpower.

He’d probably be bedridden for three days once he got back.

But this had become routine by now.

“Krash, do you remember when I said I had something I wanted to ask you before entering the eighth floor?”

Of course he remembered.

“But…”
“I’d like to tell you what that request is, here and now.”

Lakcradion’s eyes held infinite gravity.

Seeing her gaze, Krash turned his body toward her.

“Go ahead.”
“I’m going to conquer Masung Palace.”

The remaining floors of Masung Palace were the ninth and tenth.

Krash had come for Ouraesung alone and had no intention of challenging Masung Palace any further.

Yet Lakcradion declared she would conquer it.

“And when I have conquered all of Masung Palace as I promised Pendal.”

She spoke to Krash as though this were the next goal of her life.

“I wish to become your knight.”

The words came from her mouth so unexpectedly that Krash’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Become my knight?”

He had seen such things happen before, from time to time.

There had been quite a few who volunteered to become Arthur’s knights.

Mary was the most obvious example—that hotheaded one.

But perhaps because he had always thought of such matters as affairs of distant others,

Krash had never given a moment’s consideration to such things himself.

Yet sincerity gleamed in Lakcradion’s eyes.

She truly wished to become his knight.

“……I’m the youngest of Balheim. There’s hardly a place set for me in Balheim anyway.”

Charlotte aside, his first and second elder siblings were creatures that seemed monstrous even to Krash’s eyes.

Even Belokin, who soared and flew in the outside world, was treated as unremarkable within Balheim’s den.

Reaching prominence among them remained still far ahead for Krash.

“It matters not. I will be content if I am simply your knight.”

Having met Krash, Lakcradion saw the path of the sword anew.

So she wished to become a knight who drew her blade for him.

‘A knight at the threshold of Mastery.’

From Krash’s perspective, it was not an unfavorable proposition at all.

It was the realm of the Master—a rank that numbered fewer than four digits across the entire world.

Looking at Lakcradion as she was today, it was entirely possible that she would one day transcend even that threshold.

Having such a person serve as a knight was no different than gaining a stalwart ally of tremendous value.

Krash did not dislike Lakcradion’s steadfast nature.

So from his perspective, there was no particular reason to refuse.

“If your resolve remains unchanged even after you clear Masung Palace, then do as you wish.”

One can never predict how a person’s thoughts might shift.

Krash said this without holding out much hope.

“Yes, I shall visit you again within a short time.”

Seeing that response, it seemed he would indeed encounter her again sooner rather than later.

When that time came.

He himself would have grown considerably by then, Krash thought to himself.

＊ ＊ ＊

After parting ways with Lakcradion, Krash set off immediately.

He made his way to an inn—the very place where his companions had been staying all along.

Inside that inn.

The moment Krash appeared, all eyes turned toward him at once.

Most of those staying at the inn were Dungeon Raiders making their living off the scraps from Masung Palace.

Naturally, the moment Krash showed up, people began to murmur among themselves.

“Is that a direct descendant of Balheim?”
“He’s back? Don’t tell me—”
“I heard those Pendal Lord fellows all came out recently. They were a total mess, weren’t they? And come to think of it, nobody’s seen Pendal himself.”
“But the Balheim direct descendant looks fine. So what about Nakseon?”

Various murmurs passed between them, but Krash paid them no mind.

Instead, he climbed the stairs and knocked twice on a door.

The door creaked open, accompanied by rustling sounds from within.

Krash’s eyes met white hair and eyes like snowflakes.

Perhaps a month had passed—Bianca, whom he was seeing after such a long time, seemed a little taller than before.

The moment Bianca saw Krash, her eyes widened.

“Krash!”

Just as a pleased smile began to bloom across Bianca’s face—she who had clearly been waiting for him all this time—Krash quietly opened his mouth.

“…I’ve reached my limit.”

And then Krash lost consciousness.

＊ ＊ ＊

The news that Nakseon, the phantom of Masung Palace, had fallen spread through the city, and Masung Palace was thrown into chaos.

The one who brought down Nakseon was none other than Krash, the Direct Descendant of Balheim.

Perhaps it was thanks to Krash having coordinated with Pendal Lord beforehand.

Fortunately, there was no mention of the Armed Princess among the people.

If word spread that a World Erosion User had appeared at Masung Palace, it would have caused an enormous uproar.

Instead, Krash told Pendal Lord that they had conquered the eighth floor in cooperation with his forces—a final courtesy to Pendal.

When the representatives of the Four Kingdoms tried to check Charlotte’s rise,

she simply crushed them with sheer force.

After that beating at Charlotte’s hands, the Four Kingdoms faction didn’t dare lay a finger on her again.

And so, naturally, Charlotte became the center of the Four Kingdoms faction.

It was easier to follow where the dragon went than to try training it.

While a fierce storm was raging through the halls of Rahelern Academy,

a man walked slowly through the royal palace of Staron.

He had unusual hair that mixed white and gold, and his eyes blazed with a striking crimson hue.

“Rahelern Academy is just as predictable as ever.”

Having heard the reports, he showed the expression of one who had already anticipated much of it.

The middle-aged nobleman following in his wake bowed his head.

“Indeed, sire. However, now that Charlotte of Balheim has taken control of the Four Kingdoms, if we can win her favor, wouldn’t we be able to stand at the pinnacle of the Four Kingdoms?”
“Ha. Chancellor, it seems you haven’t yet laid eyes on Charlotte yourself.”
“That is a matter for the diplomats, sire. It seems the First Prince has seen her directly.”
“Yes, I’ve seen her with my own eyes. And there was talk of a marriage proposal between us.”

First Prince Hilnader of Staron.

He was the center of power in all but name, second only to the king of Staron, and destined to inherit the throne.

“She’s not the sort you can win over. Willful doesn’t begin to cover it—she’s utterly self-centered. She’d shred any leash you tried to put on her, a true beast.”
“Those are harsh words for someone whose hand was once sought in marriage, sire.”
“We simply weren’t suited to each other. What could I do about that?”

At twenty-three years old, he found himself wanting in many ways.

“Had I gone to Rahelern Academy myself, I might’ve stirred things up considerably. A pity.”
“That very anticipation is why Rahelern Academy imposed the age restriction of twenty years. If both the First Prince and the Imperial Heir had enrolled, the Academy would’ve descended into far more than mere chaos.”
“I won’t deny it.”

Hilnader gave a light shrug.

But his attention soon turned to other matters.

“The youngest of House Balheim enters Rahelern Academy next year, I hear.”
“Yes, that is correct.”
“They called him the half-wit, but recently he’s been shedding that reputation and traveling about.”

Hilnader’s gaze turned toward the window overlooking the palace grounds.

“Balheim is always troublesome in its own way. The mightiest sword that protects Staron, yet Staron cannot wield it as it pleases.”

He spoke with a slow, measured laugh.

“So tell me, Chancellor—what do you think of handing a blade to another opportunist, one who’s been crushed under the weight of this great monster called Charlotte?”
“I myself would favor seeing you meet him directly, sire.”

But the Chancellor offered a warning.

“Your Highness, you must never regard Balheim as merely a tool. It is not without reason that Balheim is called a den of vipers.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”

In that quiet moment, subtle currents of change began to stir in Staron as well.

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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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