I Became A Thief Who Steals Overpowered Skills - Chapter 96

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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 96. The Saint

After Krash lost consciousness.

Lilish stared down at her brother in a daze.

When Krash had said he had a way, her Id had activated once more.

Krash was certainly going to do something reckless.

But Lilish trusted her brother more than her Id’s judgment.

Her brother had lived a life where he could only grow stronger by facing danger alongside her.

She couldn’t refuse the plea of a brother who had pushed forward with such resolve, who had even swallowed a curse to move ahead.

And she had thought it enough that she would protect her brother.

But Lilish now realized she had grossly underestimated her brother.

Krash’s actions had gone beyond dangerous.

From the start, it seemed he had never factored his own life into the equation.

Krash had fought with grim tenacity for one sole objective he had set.

The moment Lilish, who had collapsed the legs and dodged the cascading arms, scrambled up the spine in belated haste—

Krash came into her view.

After unleashing the Flame Annihilation Thunder and attempting to flee, Krash was jabbing his sword into Agares’ cloak like a madman.

His eyes had already lost all focus, as though his mind had half departed.

Yet Krash, driven by an obsession that transcended madness, rammed his blade indiscriminately into the cloak.

Even Lilish was overwhelmed, swallowing hard at the sight.

As a result, the cloak was crushed and the darkness dwelling within it vanished.

Krash’s relentless blade had finally severed Agares’ life.

But the cost was gruesome.

Krash’s insides had been ravaged by the heat of the Flame Erosion, to a degree that even the Lunar Inhibition could not suppress.

So much so that his outer skin was already blistering from the heat.

But that wasn’t all.

As Ignis vanished and the curse seeped indiscriminately into Krash’s body as a result,

he now bore dozens of curses stacked upon him simultaneously.

Though he had grimly managed to neutralize the curses lethal enough to kill him, merely surviving was all he had achieved.

The curses were consuming Krash in real time.

Lilish hastily poured every potion she carried into Krash’s mouth.

When he couldn’t swallow, parched as his throat was, she took the liquid into her own mouth and forced it down his throat by any means necessary.

But this was only emergency treatment.

He needed proper healing.

Lilish, whose arms trembled as the ground crumbled beneath them, quickly descended with Krash in her grip.

“Miriel! Get here, now!”

She called out to one of the Jucheong Knight Order members trained in Recovery Magic.

The knight who rushed over lost all composure at the sight of Krash’s condition.

Even for someone like him, who had shuttled through countless Century Erosion incidents and saved lives, Krash looked utterly ravaged.

“M-Milady Lilish, this is beyond what I can manage.”

Still, Miriel poured Recovery Magic into Krash with everything he had, his face darkening with despair.

Krash’s current state was such that the fact he was still breathing seemed a miracle in itself.

The only saving grace was that the Ignis within his body had rekindled as a spark, burning away part of the curse, but—

Since that wasn’t visible on the surface, to Miriel’s eyes, Krash looked like he could slip away at any moment.

He desperately wanted to save Krash.

Krash had rescued the Jucheong Knight Order members countless times during the battle with Agares.

If they were to apprehend Agares, they couldn’t afford to lose any soldiers—their fighting strength against the Century Erosion would shrink with each loss.

They had no intention of letting even one of them die.

The battle with Agares had been nothing short of a hellscape.

Through all that chaos, Krash had saved them again and again, and they held him in genuine respect.

Not as a member of Balheim’s direct line, but as a person—as Krash.

So Miriel, too, unleashed his full Recovery Magic on Krash, but it fell short of what was needed to save him.

“Spare me the excuses. Keep treating him as we move.”

With that, Lilish hoisted Krash onto her back without delay.

She had no intention of losing her brother again.

She would do as Krash had said—bring him to the Saint.

“I’ll take him.”

In that instant, a figure appeared before Lilish.

“Who are you?”

He was clearly the attendant who had been at Seirang’s side.

When Lilish saw him, a question formed on her face, but Blavi spoke first.

“Questions later. Your situation’s more pressing.”

After the prolonged clash with Agares, Lilish had already reached the limits of her endurance.

The trembling in both her legs was proof enough.

Blavi had been running continuously as well, but that exhaustion bore no comparison to the physical toll Agares’s battle had exacted.

Though she didn’t know his identity, she knew he was Seirang’s escort.

So Lilish trusted him and handed Krash over.

“I’m going ahead.”

With those words, Blavi kicked off the ground and vanished in an instant.

Lilish was startled by the tremendous speed.

It was easily comparable to her own pace at full strength.

A crow in the sky above followed in his wake, flying after him.

Stagger—

Watching it, Lilish barely managed not to collapse.

Though she fought to maintain composure, the sight of Krash made her heart plummet.

Yet she couldn’t afford to worry only about Krash.

Every member of the Jucheong Knight Order, scattered and wounded across the field, awaited her orders.

The Nok-hae Knight Order, who had fought the Invasive Species in a distant sector to reduce Agares’s military strength, was also approaching.

They’d only begun to arrive after Agares fell.

She was the commander here.

She had to see her duties through to the end.

Lilish placed her faith in Blavi to do his part and straightened her spine.

A commander remains a commander until the very last moment.

“All units, rendezvous with the Nok-hae Knight Order immediately and prepare for withdrawal.”

It was time to fall back.

* * *

“Ugh, sick of this cage. Utterly sick of it.”

Inside the Holy Temple, everything had taken on an excessively pale, whitened hue.

A woman moved through the halls and exhaled a quiet breath.

Beneath the white dress embroidered with gold thread, stitch by careful stitch.

A figure too mature for her years was laid bare.

And she, her beautiful face crowned

with hair that brought to mind the sun itself, drew it slowly upward.

As she did, the Holy Mark impressed upon her hand caught the light streaming through the window and shone with crystalline clarity.

That mark proclaimed her station.

The pride of the Holy Kingdom, sole recipient of the gods’ favor.

Astria Stigma Friman.

The Saint of the Holy Kingdom Friman.

Born a Saint, she had matured into a woman’s body faster than any of her peers, and today her expression was one of pure boredom.

“Diona, is there nothing amusing to be done today?”
“If there were, Your Holiness would have found it first.”
“Look at her. What manner of tone is that to take with a Saint?”

Diona, the holy knight who had followed in her wake, smiled with a touch of resignation.

Until last year, there had been little of this petulance from her, but of late her complaints had grown troublesome.

The reason was simple enough.

She had heard of the Rahelern Academy, where her peers gathered in abundance, and her heart had taken fire with longing—until she’d asked to attend and been summarily refused.

Since that dismissal, brooked without the slightest consideration of her wishes.

She had taken to grumbling about being caged, more frequently of late.

‘Her Holiness is entering her adolescence, it seems.’

Impious though the thought was, though the Church labored each day to mold her into the perfect Saint, she remained human.

Diona, who had spent her life in service to her, knew this truth all too well.

And it pained her for that very reason.

For the girl occupied a station where she could never freely indulge her desires.

“Come to think of it, I’ve heard something curious of late.”
“If it concerns a new Saint emerging, Your Holiness would be wise to dismiss it as gossip.”
“Why? That’s precisely what I must listen to most carefully, given my position. The only Saint in the world, after all.”

Though she understood perfectly well, she wore a face alight with mischief.

Diona sighed silently within.

“As Your Holiness says, you are the sole Saint in this world.”
“There are so many gods in existence, yet only one Saint—it makes one wonder whether all those blessed by divine favor should be considered Saints or Sages.”
“No, Your Holiness. Throughout the entire world, you alone are capable of receiving the blessing of multiple gods. Any new Saint would be false—a pretender who cannot replace you.”

At those words, Astria’s eyes narrowed to slits.

“In your eyes, Diona, is a Saint truly such a noble figure?”

Diona did not answer.

Whatever she said would not be the answer Astria wanted to hear.

“I wouldn’t mind being a fake Saint, you know. If I weren’t the one and only Saint, I could be a canary—free to soar beyond the cage, couldn’t I?”
“Saint.”

When Diona gently cautioned that her words had gone too far, she laughed bitterly.

Then, as was her habit, she slowly twined a lock of hair beside her face between her fingers.

“Still, I suppose I need to learn the rules first.”

Having spoken those words, Astria moved forward again.

The time for prayer was approaching.

“Saint!”

It was at that moment.

Before she could enter the chapel, a figure appeared behind her with hurried footsteps.

The middle-aged man was one of the Church’s senior priests.

Seeing him, Astria felt a flutter of curiosity.

He was normally the senior priest in charge of diplomatic relations for the Church.

For him to come rushing over like this, drenched in sweat, could only mean something had happened.

“The smell of incident.”

The moment Astria’s eyes gleamed, Diona gave her a meaningful look.

It was a silent warning: fine to behave that way in private, but not in front of others.

Astria had no choice but to compose herself and quickly put on the Saint’s benevolent smile.

“Priest Melfiore, what seems to be the matter?”

She silently hoped it would be something new to dispel the tedium of today.

That was her earnest prayer.

“S-Seirang Sapphira, no, rather, a direct member of Balheim…”

His thoughts seemed too jumbled to speak clearly, and he continued stammering.

As Astria’s patience began to wear thin watching him, Melfiore finally cried out:

“In any case, Saint, your healing is needed for someone!”
“Really, you should have said that from the start. Lead the way.”

Without a moment’s hesitation, Astria pressed Melfiore to guide her onward.

Tedium, distraction—none of it mattered now.

If someone requested her aid, it meant their condition was dire.

So when the call came, she set everything else aside and rushed there first.

That was who Astria was.

Which was precisely why she could be called a Saint.

Bang!

“Where’s the patient?”

Astria threw open the door to the Treatment Room and demanded an answer.

Having abandoned all composure in her rush, she breathed hard.

Inside, several figures met her gaze.

Most were strangers to her.

In one corner, a white-haired girl wept and struggled on the verge of collapse.

Beside her, a woman with the insignia of a Sephira third-rank officer barely restrained the girl.

Next to them stood a suspicious-looking guard with dark hair and a veiled woman with copper-gold hair.

And Astria recognized who she was.

“Seirang.”
“Astria.”

Since they knew each other, they exchanged only the barest verbal greeting before she stepped inward.

The moment she drew back the heavy curtain, Astria instinctively covered her nose with her hand.

It was fortunate she hadn’t grimaced—the stench of curse rolled out so thick it coated everything.

The sharp, acrid smell of curse numbed the tip of her nose and clouded her mind.

A boy lay on the bed.

But his condition was grave.

From his skin inward, his entire body had melted as though burned away by fire.

At least the Lunar Inhibition had mitigated the flames’ effects somewhat.

Yet his body bore the marks of prolonged, relentless strain—nothing was normal about it.

But the true problem was the sheer volume of curse.

‘What am I supposed to do?’

Could a human truly harbor this much curse in their body?

She found herself thinking that the person who should be called here first wasn’t her at all, but an Exorcist.

While she could handle lower-grade curses, one of this magnitude required an Exorcist’s expertise.

Everyone had their specialty.

‘Enough. Stop thinking about it.’

From the moment she’d arrived here, her task was already determined.

To heal the boy who looked like he’d crawled out of a burning inferno.

She drew the curtain closed again and placed her hands over the boy’s body.

Then she began drawing up her Holy Power.

Blessed abundantly by the gods, she was regarded as the only multiple skill user in the world.

She wielded seven skills in total.

All seven were related to healing, mastered solely to save lives.

Some clerics had told her she ought to possess at least one skill for defending herself.

She’d paid them no mind, learning only healing-related skills.

With so many guards to protect her,

there was no reason to waste time learning combat skills.

Thus she was regarded as the greatest healing specialist among all Saints in history.

‘Soft tissue regeneration and shattered bone reassembly, need to check the internal organs too. Have to keep supplying vitality, weaken the curse as much as possible. How much medicine was administered? First aid was done, but the bones and muscles set awkwardly. This part’s soft tissue too—start over.’

She examined Krash’s condition while using both Holy Power and skills simultaneously.

Drip, drip—

The boy’s condition was far worse than imagined, and sweat beaded on her forehead.

As she worked, she began to realize something.

The curse dwelling in the boy’s body wasn’t harming him.

It flowed quietly, just like his Aura.

She was startled by this unprecedented situation, yet it was fortunate that it didn’t obstruct the healing.

Though the massive curse woven through his body troubled her, she finally completed the treatment after considerable struggle.

Once she wiped the sweat from her face, she could finally see the boy’s features clearly.

Black hair tinged with blue light.

Deep eyelashes and distinctly sharp, piercing eyes.

His appearance seemed more mature than his age would suggest,

yet during the treatment she’d realized he wasn’t much different in age from her.

‘He’s handsome.’

She was startled to realize she’d just evaluated someone else’s appearance.

She’d seen the Holy Knights that the attendants gossiped about being handsome, and felt nothing in particular.

But seeing a boy her own age, she actually found herself calling him handsome.

‘Since when do I have taste like this?’

If anything, those sharp eyes were severe enough to damage his appearance rather than enhance it.

Not knowing what she was thinking about with a patient in front of her, she let out a self-conscious cough.

The treatment was complete.

She’d also cast blessings related to physical recovery, so he should mend quickly.

She felt the stiffness in her shoulders as she was about to step outside and inform the people waiting there of the boy’s condition.

“Ah, Astria.”

Suddenly, the boy’s voice called out her name without preamble.

They weren’t even acquainted, and he called out to the Saint by her given name so freely — it was absurd, but she glanced back at him nonetheless.

Despite seeming far too drowsy to be fully conscious, the boy was looking at her with eyes that held a faint, luminous blue.

Remarkable force of will.

“Daye, I didn’t skip on purpose, I’m telling you.”

In the moment she heard the boy’s murmur, her eyes narrowed in confusion.

Skip? He didn’t mean to skip?

What was he rambling about?

She blinked, and watching as his breathing grew ragged, she brushed back a strand of hair at her temple with her hand.

‘Sleep talk, it must be.’

Though the odds of her name appearing by accident in his sleep talk seemed rather slim.

She turned her gaze from the boy and drew back the curtain.

There stood the silver-haired girl she’d seen earlier.

Her eyes were so bloodshot from weeping that they burned crimson, and seeing her like that, Astria smiled.

This was her favorite moment.

“The patient is safe. You can see for yourself.”

The most gratifying time — when she could bring relief to the families who worried about their loved ones more than anyone.

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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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