I Became A Thief Who Steals Overpowered Skills - Chapter 98

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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 98. You couldn’t notice that?

Astria Stigma Freeman.

Of late, she found herself in a most intriguing position.

For a direct heir of Balheim—a family she’d known only by reputation—was now residing within the Holy Temple itself.

‘So that man was a direct descendant of Balheim.’

What was Balheim, after all?

The bloodline of the world’s mightiest hero.

Their renown was beyond measure; all the world bowed its head at the mere mention of their name.

And now a direct member of that very house lay recuperating in the Holy Temple.

For Astria, who had lately lamented her own imprisonment like a bird in a cage, it was an extraordinary source of fascination.

‘Still, I must endure.’

When a patient first opens their eyes, it should be family they see.

According to Seirang, the fair-faced girl with white hair was his fiancée.

The way she had wept spoke volumes—there was no denying the depth of their bond.

‘An engagement.’

Astria gazed quietly out the window.

Beyond the temple walls, she could see lovers strolling hand in hand.

That was something she could never have, not in all her life.

Should a Saint ever become the beloved of another, her very limbs might be severed for such sacrilege.

‘Childish thoughts, truly.’

A girl of merely fourteen years old.

And yet she must be more mature than anyone, must embody holiness itself—a Saint in every sense.

That was exactly what Astria was.

“Your Holiness.”

In that instant, Diona, her Holy Knight escort, called out to her.

“Krash Balheim has awakened.”

The presence of Balheim in the Holy Kingdom was being kept in strictest confidence.

Balheim themselves had requested absolute secrecy.

The Holy Kingdom had readily agreed to cooperate.

After all, there’s no reason for me to be at odds with Balheim.

“How are you feeling?”
“I seem to be in perfect condition.”
“Well, you should be. I did the work myself.”

Displaying a composure that belied her fourteen years, she offered a confident smile.

“You won’t mind if I go see him for a moment, will you?”

When Astria showed interest, Diona reluctantly nodded her assent.

“Of course. It’s merely to confirm the patient’s recovery progress.”

Who would dare question a Saint’s Recovery Ability?

Yet Diona, who secretly hoped Astria might live a little more freely, gave her consent.

“This is exactly why I love you so much, Diona.”

Hearing this, Astria promptly rose from her chair and embraced her.

Watching her, Diona smiled with quiet satisfaction.

For Astria, who had no parents, Diona had been there since childhood—more a mother to her than anyone else could be.

And the same was true for Diona.

“I wonder if I can ask him all sorts of questions without seeming rude. I’m so curious.”

What kind of heroic life must someone from the direct line of Balheim have lived?

Astria, who had spent her entire life confined within the Holy Kingdom, knew little of the world beyond.

So, brimming with anticipation, she sought out the room where Krash was resting.

“Master Krash has gone out to train.”

The moment she arrived at the door, the taciturn attendant assigned directly to Krash’s service delivered these words, and she blinked in surprise.

She had wondered when she entered the room and found someone cleaning alone.

She had never imagined he’d already gone off to train.

“Training right after waking up?”

She had restored his body herself, so physically there was nothing to prevent him from training.

Yet no matter how fully the body recovered, the mind did not shed its exhaustion so easily.

‘The memory of losing consciousness to pain—surely it remains etched in his body.’

Many patients, despite being fully healed, complained of lingering mental anguish.

For this reason, Astria often bestowed blessings capable of mental care upon the most troubled among them.

While not extraordinarily potent blessings, they were enough to aid people’s recovery.

And among all those Astria had encountered, Krash’s suffering—the severity of his pain alone—ranked among the worst.

How far gone must one be that even Astria, who always maintained her composure before patients, found herself wincing?

‘And yet she trains.’

Truly, one could only call it Balheim.

“Where is the training taking place?”
“She’s using a private chamber among those training grounds the Holy Knights frequent, I’m told.”

For someone who claimed to hide her identity, she certainly moved about boldly.

“Thank you. Ella, you’ve been a help today too.”

The attendant, delighted that Astria had called her by name with such kindness, made the sign of the cross.

Leaving the girl to her joy, Astria set off with purposeful strides.

What sort of person trains the moment they wake up?

‘I heard she’s supposed to be around my age.’

Fourteen years old, facing an 8th Class Erosion Species.

She found herself wondering what kind of place Balheim was to produce such a person.

And so she arrived at the private chamber entrance of the Holy Knight Training Grounds.

A single training chamber stood open—the only one in use.

The private chambers of the Holy Knight Training Grounds were spaces where knights entered to fortify their inner strength.

Enclosed on all sides by walls, they were ideal for concentration.

She found it strange that the door was open, but understanding came swiftly.

Intense heat poured from within, searing her pale skin.

Had the door been closed, the heat would have accumulated until the walls themselves melted.

‘This is…’

Black flames, burning pitch-dark.

They were unmistakably cursed fire.

And to Astria, who wielded Holy Power, such a force was profoundly unsettling.

Pressing through the Black Flames and lifting her gaze, she saw a figure within—a boy.

Drops of sweat fell from his brow as he scattered Black Flames across a blade that gleamed golden.

Black hair, tinged with blue, whipped in the turbulent air.

Beneath it, a sharp-featured face caught her eye.

She stood transfixed, watching the sweat trace down his cheeks, before her senses returned to her.

‘He’s handsome, no matter how many times I look.’

Even when she was asleep, she’d been aware of it.

But seeing that grave intensity in his eyes amid the black flames—her gaze followed of its own accord.

Did she have a preference for sharp, angular faces, then?

She’d seen the Holy Knights whisper among themselves plenty of times, calling their comrades handsome.

But all she’d felt was that they looked… kind.

She’d never experienced anything stronger gazing at them.

When skin was torn or burned away, it hardly mattered whether the face beneath was beautiful or plain.

After all her years as a Saint, tending to countless wounded, she’d assumed she simply didn’t notice appearances anymore.

‘But I was wrong.’

She did notice them—beauty, that is.

Just like any other girl her age.

And her inability to look away from Krash was proof of it.

Gradually, the black flames began to subside.

Krash had finished his training.

The moment he turned his head, wiping sweat from his brow, their eyes met.

And just like that, Astria looked away.

It was too difficult to face a man like that—glistening with sweat—head-on.

“Astria?”

Even his voice was appealing, it seemed.

She cleared her throat, forcing herself to focus.

She was a Saint.

Preferences, preferences—it didn’t matter. He was here as a patient visiting the Holy Kingdom.

It was wrong for a Saint to harbor personal feelings toward such a person.

She gathered herself, slipping back into her role.

“I didn’t expect you to seek out the training grounds the moment you woke. How are you feeling?”

She spoke with a tender smile gracing her lips.

Yet for some reason, Krash’s brows knit slightly.

It was the look of someone encountering something distasteful, and Astria flinched.

No matter how hard she tried to maintain her role as a Saint, receiving such a gaze from someone she found appealing stung.

‘Am I… unpleasant to him?’

While Astria was tracing her own face, Krash opened his mouth.

“Yes, I’ve made a full recovery thanks to you.”

He was well enough to train on the grounds, after all.

The word “full recovery” fit him perfectly.

Yet the moment she saw Krash, something troubled her.

“Would it be alright if I asked you something?”
“Please do.”
“The Curse dwelling in your body—why does it feel so much stronger now than when I treated it?”

Astria had been bothered by that from the start.

Why did he carry such a powerful Curse within him?

From the training she’d just witnessed, he was wielding the Curse intentionally.

So when Astria asked, Krash merely smiled faintly.

When she noticed his reaction and tilted her head.

She caught something in his manner.

“…And the answer?”

So she pressed, and Krash continued behind his smile.

“I said I’d listen, not that I’d answer.”

Astria realized something then.

His face was certainly to her taste.

‘Rude bastard.’

But his personality was decidedly not.

Feeling a flare of indignation, she forced her smile to hold.

“I see. Everyone has things they find difficult to answer.”
“Then might I ask you something in return?”

Astria’s lips protruded slightly.

“Even though I can choose not to answer?”
“That’s fine.”

And with a suspicious smile, he spoke.

“Would you like to go on a date with me?”

The moment those words left his mouth, Astria went rigid.

She truly hadn’t seen it coming at all.

‘A date?’

She stared ahead, her lips parting and closing without sound.

Krash, meanwhile, remained unhurried, methodically adjusting his clothes.

“Of course, I’ll wash up properly first.”

A man without manners, entirely willful and self-indulgent.

Worse still—a man with a fiancée.

And yet he speaks of a date with an unrelated woman.

With a Saint, no less.

There was no rogue quite so reckless as this.

Her mind, ordinarily sharp and swift to process, now snagged on confusion—unable to form a coherent thought.

“I’m… I’m a Saint, you know?”

A date with a Saint? Was such a thing even permissible?

Even Diona, who had followed them here, wore an expression of pure incredulity as she stared at Krash.

Yet Krash merely shrugged anew with apparent indifference.

“That’s hardly an issue. We can chat about how the world turns and enjoy a proper date while we’re at it.”

He showed not the slightest concern that she was a Saint.

Astria’s eyes darted back and forth.

Then, as their gazes met again, she whirled her head away.

“Krash Balheim…”

Just as Diona was about to protest that he was taking his jest too far—

“Yes. I’d like to hear about how the world turns too.”

Astria abruptly accepted.

Diona’s eyes widened in shock. Astria, her ears flushed crimson, hastily concealed them behind a lock of hair.

“Someone of direct Balheim lineage wouldn’t commit rudeness, would they?”
“I pledge the Balheim name itself.”

Before Diona could even protest, the date was already sealed.

Diona looked at her in bewilderment, but Astria simply spun on her heel and turned away.

“I’ll be in my chamber. Come fetch me once you’re ready.”

She walked forward, maintaining the most composed expression she could muster.

Diona glanced after Krash, then sighed and followed in Astria’s wake.

Thinking all the while that this capricious Saint had taken another peculiar fancy.

* * *

After Astria had left.

Krash exhaled a short breath.

Fortunately, Astria had picked up on his hint and graciously offered to let them talk alone.

Here was someone of direct Balheim descent, acting with all the manners of a street cur, casually throwing out the word “date” like it meant nothing.

Of course she’d noticed something odd in their conversation just moments ago.

‘She’s always had sharp instincts, that one.’

His behavior had been unmistakably strange, and Astria would have sensed that something lay beneath the surface.

So when she’d proposed a date, she’d meant it as a signal—that she too had things to discuss, alone with him.

Back in Starry Generation, they were always the two stationed in the rear.

In other matters, he couldn’t claim certainty, but about Astria—Krash was confident he understood her.

‘That’s exactly the kind of thing she used to pull on me when something serious came up.’

‘Why don’t we go on a date?’

A Saint would never speak those words so casually.

What she really meant was: let’s talk, just us two.

In fact, whenever he’d gone along with her before, she’d shared things of real importance—matters touching on Starry Generation or the wider world.

Always asking for his thoughts, his perspective.

Though it did grate somewhat that later on, she’d actually gone and asked him out for real.

But that had come later, after trouble with Starry Generation had kindled something warmer between them—not now.

‘At our first meeting, she couldn’t stand the sight of me.’

In those early days.

Astria used to flinch whenever she saw him.

So much so that whenever their eyes threatened to meet, she’d whip her head away rather than face him.

And not much had changed even now.

Today, when their gazes crossed as she’d left the training grounds, she’d turned away immediately.

‘What was it she said—that the sight of my face made her skin crawl?’

When he’d pressed her on why she kept avoiding his gaze like that, irritating him, her answer surfaced in his memory.

Beauty, after all, was a matter of personal conviction.

So he’d let it go at that.

Though even someone you dislike at first can grow on you the longer you spend beside them.

Krash knew all too well that this tendency grew worse the longer one pushed past the point of exhaustion.

It made sense—the Starry Generation wasn’t short on people who’d developed feelings for one another.

So it was natural enough that Astria, the Saint, had harbored such emotions without thinking.

Since both of them spent most of their time supporting from the rear, he’d shared more hours at her side than anyone else.

Which meant the current Astria was probably none too fond of him.

Certainly not after all the training—he was drenched in sweat.

Every time before, she’d flushed crimson with anger, insisting he wear proper clothes and bathe.

So he’d thrown in the promise to wash up first.

“I’ve agreed to it, so that should settle things.”

He had no desire to sour things between them.

He owed her a debt, and given her abilities, it was worth rebuilding whatever trust lay broken.

‘If I tell her about the false Saint situation now, she’ll handle it herself without needing more than a nudge.’

With that thought, Krash turned to go wash and change before their conversation—

When he caught sight of the entrance near the corner leading into the training grounds.

A shock of pure white hair.

It belonged to a girl staring straight at him.

Krash went rigid at the sight.

“Did you have a good training session?”

But hearing her voice, he exhaled shortly in relief.

Bianca had cried herself to sleep, and while she rested, Krash had slipped out to check on the Thousand Kill Nature and get some training in.

It was something Bianca would be upset about, certainly.

But not nearly as much as the conversation with Astria.

Though of course, it was all a misunderstanding anyway.

Yet despite his relief, Bianca’s eyes turned cold for the first time.

“And a date with the Saint?”

Ah. She’d heard everything.

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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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