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I Became a Munchkin Skill Thief

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Synopsis
I used to think that my stealing skill only worked on what was worthless to a person. But just before I died, I realised that I could also steal skills. So I stole the regression.
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Chapter 1 - Chapter: 1

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Translator: Ryuma

Chapter: 1

Chapter Title: Destroyed World

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"Fuck."

A man spat out a curse.

It was a situation where he couldn't hold it back.

His body was covered in smeared curse marks here and there.

His right eye had long since gone mad from the curse.

On top of that, he could barely feel sensation in half his body.

His name was Krash Valheim.

The man branded as the shame of the Valheim Family.

'Shame my ass.'

But even that label was a thing of the past now.

He was one of the Generation of the Sky who had fought against the destruction known as World Erosion.

Even his family, who had always treated him like a halfwit, had come to acknowledge him to some extent.

Thirsting for that recognition, he had struggled even more desperately.

But the result was惨め.

A meteor shower poured down before his eyes, and the world was coming to an end.

The Ultimate Evil, grown beyond all control, was devouring everything.

Krash stared blankly at that destruction.

Then, he turned to the man beside him.

"What... cough... are you going to do now...?"

Krash's voice wouldn't come out properly due to the curse.

But the reprimand in it came through clear enough.

"What am I going to do?"

In response, a man with dazzling platinum blond hair like the sun lifted his head.

Even as the world crumbled to ruin around him, his refined face was so handsome it felt like cheating.

Arthur Gramalte, the greatest of the Generation of the Sky, called the Hero King.

It was laughable coming from the Hero King, the Empire's pride.

Because three women surrounded him, each comforting him in their own way.

That wasn't a Hero King. That was a Harem King.

"The world is done for. It's over."

Arthur replied with striking calm.

Even after countless people had died to get him this far, he spoke like that.

As if the destruction had nothing to do with him.

"You mean... cough... how many people... trusted in you alone...!"

"Krash, shut up! Arthur did his best too!"

At that moment, a woman with sea-like hair color shouted.

Krash scowled deeply.

Her name was Sigrin Epania.

The third princess of the Epania Empire, the one who had elevated Arthur to the throne of imperial heir.

A princess blinded by her devotion to Arthur.

But her swordsmanship was formidable enough to rival even Arthur's.

"Fuck... cough cough! Your Highness Sigrin, after I barely got your eyes open again when you were bawling that you couldn't see out of one... Shut up? Is that what you're saying?"

Uncharacteristically sharp words poured from Krash's mouth.

Sigrin shot him a look of contempt.

"How dare you speak like that before me, Sigrin? Aren't you afraid of the consequences?"

"Consequences? Consequences!"

Krash spat blood from his mouth and raised both hands to the sky.

"The world's destroyed—what consequences?! Fuck you, bitch! The Epania you cherished is gone—cough... ack—destroyed last night!"

Sigrin glared at him, her eyes welling up with tears.

But seeing that, Krash only wore a contemptuous expression.

She had lorded over everyone but Arthur, relying on her royal blood.

And Krash had gotten the worst of it.

The main reason was that Krash came from the Staron Kingdom's most powerful family.

"Ah, you've pulled every damn stunt since the academy days!"

Their bitter enmity had begun at Raheln Academy.

Sigrin, blessed with innate sword talent, had all eyes on her.

In contrast, Krash was the Valheim Family's useless youngest son from the proud Staron Kingdom—no talent to speak of.

He might have ignored mere comparisons.

But Sigrin was the leader of the imperial faction in the academy.

So she relentlessly tormented him to crush the kingdom faction.

Because of that, Krash endured mockery from the imperial faction and ostracism from his own kingdom faction as a disgrace.

"Family disgrace," "kingdom disgrace"—he was sick of hearing it.

Yet Krash endured.

He was indeed a talentless halfwit.

And she was essential to the Generation of the Sky, needed to save the world.

"Once I stole the curse that blinded you, you came crawling to me!"

But that was over now.

The world was destroyed, the Empire vaporized by World Erosion, and the Kingdom too.

So Krash crushed his right eye with his hand, his voice thick with hatred.

If he'd known it would end like this, he never would've stolen that mad bitch's eye curse.

"A trash who only knows how to steal!"

Sigrin's eyes flashed with rage.

She drew the white sword called Dragon Fang.

The chill emanating from it seemed ready to freeze Krash solid.

But Krash just snorted.

Trash who only knows how to steal.

"Yeah... cough cough... that's right."

Krash hated his own ability.

Just like she said, all he could do was steal.

 ⚙ SKILL: BLACK HOOD ⚙ Steals what the target possesses. *Conditions 1. The value of the target's possession is determined by the target. 2. Stealing conditions are set based on the target's perceived value. 

The skill granted by the god he contracted with—a literal thieving ability.

The more the target cherished something, the harder it was to steal. A bizarre power.

But it had one key advantage.

'I can even steal curses born from World Erosion.'

Curses even the world's greatest heroes couldn't unravel—he stole them.

That immense benefit kept Krash with the Generation of the Sky.

As a result, the curses piling up on his body numbered in the hundreds.

One prevented sleep in exchange for not dying from curses—that's how he'd survived this long.

A number that should've killed him ages ago.

'I thought I'd hit four digits soon.'

Unfortunately, the world ended first.

All the curses on Krash's body came from the Generation of the Sky.

Arthur's Curse of Terror Dominion.

Sigrin's Veil of Darkness.

The Saintess's Tyrant's Lineage.

The Flame Emperor's Root of Malice, and more.

He bore all the curses from those now-dead comrades.

Curses were worthless trash to their bearers.

That's why Krash's Black Hood worked best on them.

"But without me... cough... you wouldn't have made it this far..."

Krash's one good eye trembled with rage.

"Right? Cough... Abella."

He turned to the woman who'd been clinging to Arthur and sobbing since earlier.

Petite, she gripped a staff etched with stars.

Abella, the Red Witch, the Magic Tower's finest and a fellow member of the Generation of the Sky.

She too had come this far with Arthur.

"Lord Arthur... Lord Arthur... what are we going to do?"

But she didn't even pretend to hear.

Since the world's end, all she did was stick to Arthur and cry.

'Well, that's how she always was.'

She'd always ignored him outright.

When the curse pain felt like his body ripping apart and he went to the Magic Tower for painkillers, she'd had him turned away at the door.

That wasn't the only humiliation, but from then on, he'd cut all ties with her.

"Lost your voice to a curse so you couldn't cast spells, huh? Cough cough... but crying's something you do just fine."

And yet, how repulsive it was when she'd persistently ask him to steal her curses.

Even now, his throat felt scraped raw by iron—that cough-inducing pain was her curse.

"Stop being so pathetic."

Another voice chimed in.

A woman standing silently behind Arthur.

Mary Diana, the Empire's Spear and the Strongest Knight guarding Sigrin.

With jet-black hair, tall stature, and a glamorous figure, she was alluring.

But to Krash, she was worthless.

A huge chunk of his curses came from that idiot woman.

Strongest Spear my ass.

Her sky-high ego made her shove her head into unavoidable World Erosion retreats, dragging back curses—disgusting.

"Pathetic? Bullshit. Remember begging me to steal the curse that spilled all your secret feelings for Arthur so no one would know?"

And the next day after he'd lifted it?

Seeing her barge into the same room as Sigrin and Arthur was infuriating.

Thanks to that, he missed their promised first date.

No dates now—everything was fucked anyway.

"You only ever spew that crap."

"Damn right! Cough cough—because your curse remnants are still in me!"

If the curses hadn't partially canceled each other out on their own, who knows what he'd say here.

"Couldn't even... save the damn world, huh."

Krash exhaled raggedly, as if letting go of everything, and turned to Arthur.

The real problem was Arthur.

He'd never once betrayed expectations.

Always handling everything flawlessly, as if he knew the future.

But at the end, he floundered and now they'd crashed.

Yet Krash stuck with him.

The people around Arthur were all idiots.

But Arthur at least said he needed him.

Though he never stopped their abuse.

Krash stayed because he thought he was helpful.

"You were the one who could've done it."

Krash recalled Arthur's words as he watched the crumbling world.

"It's over."

As if a mere play had ended.

That nonchalant line invalidated all of Krash's efforts.

"Yeah, but in the end, we failed again."

Meanwhile, Arthur stood.

Blood dripped thickly from below his chest.

That was why Abella clung to him sobbing.

Arthur was dying.

He'd failed to stop the world's end too.

"Again... this time?"

But Krash puzzled over Arthur's words.

He reacted as if he'd been through this before.

"Don't worry. This time was different. I got Memory Succession."

The three women's faces changed as they looked at him.

They looked like they'd made a pact with him long ago.

Krash frowned slowly at the bizarre sight.

"Arthur, what does that mean? Am I the only one who doesn't get it?"

"Krash, this isn't my first destruction. This world has ended over and over."

Arthur's calm words only confused Krash more.

Over and over? What nonsense.

Had Arthur finally lost it at the end?

"But it's fine. I'll just go back."

"What... what bullshit is that! Arthur! Sigrin, Abella, Mary—you all know something!"

Despite his shout, the three only gazed at Arthur.

As if he were the only one in the world.

"Since we've come this far, I'll tell you."

Finally, Arthur answered.

"Regression."

Regression?

Krash's one eye shook violently.

A word straight out of a fairy tale, from Arthur's mouth.

And the other three already knew about his regressions.

"Re... gression?"

With that, Krash felt all the pieces fall into place.

Because Arthur's prescient actions suddenly made sense.

Arthur's eyes were sincere.

He really could regress.

"And this loop, I got Memory Succession. With it, I can pass on Sigrin, Abella, and Mary's memories to the regression point."

"So... you'll regress and start over with them?"

If he couldn't stop it alone, take them back too.

Realizing that, Krash's eye widened hugely.

That might actually stop the end.

This loop failed, but with those three—shitty personalities but real skills—the odds would skyrocket.

For a moment, he saw light.

Light in the hopeless ruined world.

"Yeah. I'll start over with everyone."

Hearing "everyone," Krash looked up.

The three beside him had known for ages.

But him?

The one who'd survived tooth and nail amid the Generation of the Sky's deaths, stealing all their curses to endure?

"Wait. Arthur."

So he asked.

Didn't you at least acknowledge me?

"...What about me?"

As he forced his sticky lips open to ask—

Arthur stared silently as before, then laughed for the first time.

"Puhahaha!"

Stunned by the sudden guffaw, Krash watched Arthur lift his head slowly, tears wiped by Abella, his golden eyes gleaming.

"Krash, what use is passing on the memories of someone whose body and mind are both rags?"

Arthur looked down at the dazed Krash.

"Don't worry. I like you quite a bit. Without you, the Generation of the Sky wouldn't have reached this point. Your curse-stealing ability is useful. But that doesn't mean I need you as you are now. What I need is a you with a clean mind to follow me."

Those words treated him like a tool.

A disposable consumable.

Needed for each regression, but nothing more or less.

"See you later, Krash."

With that, radiant light poured from Arthur's body.

Realizing the regression had begun, Krash scrambled up in panic but tumbled to the ground.

One leg, ruined by curses, wouldn't move.

Writhing in the mud, vomiting blood, he screamed at Arthur.

"Wait—wait! Wait! Arthur! Take me too! You fucking bastard! If you're going, take me!"

But Arthur's expression didn't change.

Krash had never held any value in Arthur's life.

Pretending to acknowledge him was just because he was useful.

He'd never seen him as a comrade, not once.

Did he only realize it now?

'I've known...'

Long ago, really.

When the Generation of the Sky mocked and humiliated him, Arthur just watched silently.

As if it was natural.

If he'd truly seen him as a comrade, he'd have stopped it long ago, stood with him.

He hadn't even acknowledged his contributions—treated him like a tool too.

'I was just...'

Masturbating his ego alone in his mind.

Clinging to being useful to the Generation of the Sky, to stopping the world's end, filling the self-esteem gap his family left.

Like this.

Really end like this?

Really?

As Krash's mind faded—

He looked down at his hand.

The destroyed world.

Arthur leaving.

The ability to steal what others possess.

He hadn't thought of it before, his body too wrecked by curses.

But one lingering question.

Could he really not steal skills?

Skills were vital to people—not easy.

But now wasn't the time to care.

Krash raised his hand toward Arthur.

Had past-loop Krash done the same?

If successful, this Krash would've regressed too.

Failure meant he hadn't.

Didn't matter.

If not now, everything ended meaningless under the ruins.

"Fuuuuck!"

With that curse, as his outstretched hand glowed—

Krash lost consciousness amid blinding light.

◇◇◇◆◇◇◇

"Huh?"

As the light faded, a startled exclamation echoed.

Amid the meteor shower crashing down for destruction, one man's head slowly lifted.

He realized no one was beside him and his eyes widened.

"Wh-what...?"

Why was he here when he should've regressed?

As doubt formed, meteors crushed him, thoughts snapping off.

Arthur Gramalte of the 9th loop.

He had truly died that day.