I Became A Thief Who Steals Overpowered Skills - Chapter 62

[EP.62] Death and Resurrection

With no time for answers, Aslan bolted from the room. The academy dormitory where Dorothy resided was engulfed in flames. After running at full speed, Aslan arrived at the dormitory only to find it ablaze with unholy fire. Some children who had escaped were either writhing from burns or crying out in despair. Dorothy, however, was nowhere to be seen.

Anxiously, Aslan approached someone who seemed unharmed.

“Excuse me, have you seen Dorothy? A girl with transparent blue hair?”

“Do, Dorothy? The failing student?”

He seemed to recognize Dorothy, but his expression betrayed ignorance of her current whereabouts. Suddenly, a child raised a hand.

“I saw her! Dorothy saved that kid and me over there.”

The student, apparently exhausted from inhaling smoke, pointed to another unconscious child, but Dorothy herself was still missing.

“Where’s Dorothy?”
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“She went back inside to save more kids…”

Hearing this, Aslan charged through the entrance without hesitation. Having cast a series of spells to ward off flames, he dashed through the searing inferno. Despite the protective magic, the heat was intense—these weren’t ordinary flames.

‘This is magic.’

Who would do such a thing? Did someone bear a grudge against the academy? Aslan, who didn’t attend the academy, couldn’t know—but he was certain of one thing: he needed to find Dorothy.

“Dorothy! Dorothy, where are you?”

Dodging falling debris, Aslan desperately called out for Dorothy. A girl just barely managing basic spells couldn’t possibly withstand such a blaze. He scoured the first floor, then the second, and as he reached the third, he sensed a drop in the ferocity of flames from a certain direction. Realizing this, Aslan propelled himself towards it with all his might.

“Move!”

He sent the rubble flying with magic and saw a glimpse of blue hair amidst the ice. Between locks of frosty hair, the clear ice-like skin of a girl came into view, her body seemingly half made of ice, frantically suppressing the magic circle of flames with coldness.

It was Dorothy he knew so well.

“Dorothy!”

His voice drew her attention. Shock and confusion replaced the usual serenity in her eyes.

“Ah, Aslan?”

Flustered to see him here, and fully aware of her own appearance, she was at a loss. Aslan realized it then—Dorothy was no ordinary human. She was a spirit.

The presence of a spirit instinctively incites aversion in people. And in the Igrit family, spirits were a taboo, ever since the atrocities committed by the first spirit contracted by the original spirit mage, which had gone down in history. Dorothy wasn’t unaware of this, and guilt for deceiving him filled her mind.

However, Aslan felt a profound sense of relief. Dorothy was safe. He immediately rushed to her side, regardless of her being a spirit. She was the Dorothy who had given him a second chance at life.

“Aslan, you fool?! It’s dangerous! Get out of here now!”

Despite her shock, Dorothy was more concerned about Aslan’s safety than her own appearance. But he felt the same towards her.

“We just need to deal with this.”

“Wait, it’s dangerous!”

“Aslan, I am an Igrit.”

He stepped in front of the magic circle, heat fiercely beating against his face. Ignoring it, he extended his hands and began to unravel the array of magical circles that had started to glow within his grasp.

“Magic is my specialty.”

The irony wasn’t lost on him. The man who had grown weary of magic early in life was now claiming expertise in it. But he was the only one capable of stopping this magic circle. Dorothy’s gaze flickered wildly, her lips tightly pressed together, as she watched him act without hesitation despite knowing her true nature.

“…Aslan, I am a spirit. If people see you with me, it could lead to disaster.”

The repercussions could extend beyond a simple exile from the family. At least, the Flame Emperor would never let Aslan off the hook.

Still, Aslan’s eyes remained unchanged.

“Yes.”

He simply said, willing to endure it all just to be with her. Dorothy clenched her fists as Aslan’s sincerity reached her.

“The one who started this fire used a spirit seed. Ordinary magic can’t extinguish these flames. And obviously, spirits can’t stop it either.”

The magic, a new creation using a spirit seed sold in underhanded deals, was a forbidden spell that forced the spirit within the seed to bloom and explode. A powerful spell akin to world erosion, amplifying the spirit’s power at the cost of its sacrifice. The Igrit family was already investigating such magic users.

Dorothy was a rare case, almost human-like among spirits. She was a new being created by the Spirit King’s Forest to evolve and respond to humans in a world undergoing erosion. Thus, she understood humans unlike typical spirits.

Regardless of the intent behind her evolution, her similarity to humans naturally piqued her interest in them, with magic being a particularly fascinating subject. She adopted the identity of a young mage named Dorothy, who had died, to learn magic at the academy. It was there she realized that the mage she impersonated was connected to the group researching spirit amplification magic.
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Upon discovering this, Dorothy monitored their activities and rushed to prevent the arson when she saw one member being caught by the Igrit’s investigation.

Now, Aslan finally saw the burning seed within the explosive magic circle. The aura of the flames was beyond his comprehension.

“I will suppress the spirit’s power.”

“I will undo the magic.”

Their eyes met, a mutual realization of what needed to be done. They shared a smile amidst the roaring flames and moved in unison.

Dorothy’s coldness forcibly pressed down the spirit’s flames. Meanwhile, Aslan began to dismantle the magic circle.

The foundation of the magic circle was based on explosive spells of considerable complexity. It reflected the madness of the arsonist, obsessed with magic.

‘Great, what a lunatic complication. At least a Philosopher level 5th Circle Mage’s work.’

He was merely a Theoricus, a 3rd Circle Mage. Facing a magic circle crafted by someone two whole circles above him, the determination behind the complex spell was palpable. It was so intense that Aslan nearly felt dizzy just looking at it.

Yet, his eyes and hands moved with a feverish determination, swiftly unraveling the spell. He understood why Dorothy had been suppressing it—if it exploded, not just the dormitory, but the entire area would be obliterated. She had been desperately holding it back, and Aslan had to be even more careful in disarming it. Precision and speed were both crucial, a high-wire act where one misstep could be catastrophic.

Dorothy’s coldness was still pouring out, desperately holding back the flames, but she had been pushing herself since before Aslan’s arrival. Her increasingly spirit-like appearance and the water dripping between the ice were clear signs of her reaching her limit.

Time was running out. Sweat beaded on Aslan’s brow. He despised himself for having neglected magic for so long, all the while making grand gestures and now struggling with disarming a magic circle.

‘Faster, more precise.’

His hands and eyes showed no sign of stopping. His mental focus, pushed to the limit, forced him into a state of intense concentration solely for the spell’s disarming.

Crack, thud—

Blood began to trickle from his eyes, perhaps due to the immense mana gathered there. His gaze never wavered, not blinking once.

‘Damn it.’

Even then, he acutely felt the inadequacy of his skills.

“Aslan.”

Dorothy’s voice reached him.

“You can do it. You taught even a fool like me.”

Now completely in her spirit form, Dorothy pulled up even more coldness and spoke.
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“You are the greatest magician among all those I know.”

Having someone believe in him was enough for Aslan. His reddened eyes shone brighter than ever before, as if he had been learning magic just for this day. His fingers danced across the runes as dozens of magic circles began to unravel at his touch.

The flames grew fiercer, but Aslan’s hands continued to dismantle the magic circle. Finally, one last one. When his index finger touched the magic circle:

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Crack!

The circle shattered like glass. Following that, the encompassing flames combusted and disappeared in an instant.

Thud, thud—

Parts of the burnt building collapsed into ash. Amidst the quiet, Aslan gasped for breath, blood trickling down his cheeks.

His gaze shifted to the side. Had he used too much mana? His voice was gone, his vision blurry. Yet, in his sight, Dorothy was still vividly present.

Translucent ice-like skin, eyes and hair of azure blue as if each strand was meticulously carved from ice. Below that, Dorothy’s face was adorned with a bright smile.

“Aslan!”

They had prevailed. That was enough.

As Aslan’s consciousness teetered on the brink:

Boom!

The entire dormitory began to echo as its pillars could no longer withstand the fire, leading to the building’s collapse. They were cornered on the third floor, too far from any windows to escape. Moreover, Aslan was at his limit, mana-exhausted, his fingertips barely moving.

Yet, before he could reach out to protect Dorothy, she wrapped her arms around him first.

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Crash!

As the dormitory crumbled, black ash and smoke swirled around them. Amidst it all, Aslan felt himself falling, muttering in despair. But no impact came. Dorothy had encased the surrounding debris in ice, narrowly preventing it from collapsing on them.

But the real problem was next.

“What, what is that?”

“A monster, it’s a monster!”

“There’s a spirit! There’s a spirit here!”

Amidst the chaos, Aslan heard the panicked voices of children and magicians who had arrived late to fight the fire. Fear, hostility, and a mix of emotions poured from their eyes.

“It’s taking a hostage!”

The magicians shouted, not realizing who had quelled the explosion. Desperate to correct the misunderstanding, Aslan couldn’t muster his voice. He was fortunate not to be vomiting blood.

His gaze hurriedly sought Dorothy. They needed to flee now. If Dorothy remained, she’d become a target for the magicians. And she knew it.

But before she could move, a wave of flames surged.

“Stay away from my son!”

With a thunderous voice, the fire enveloped Dorothy in an instant. She had been at her limit from suppressing the amplification magic. Naturally, she couldn’t escape such high-tier flame magic.

“Ah, aahhh!”

Aslan, witnessing the scene, screamed in horror, spewing blood as he tried to rush to the burning Dorothy. But before he could, someone grabbed his arm.

“Aslan! It’s okay now, it’s over!”

It was none other than his mother, Agatha. She had been investigating the forbidden magicians and rushed here after hearing of the academy’s arson. Luckily, the culprit had been captured—a professor at the academy, who upon being cornered, unleashed his madness on the dormitory. Arriving, Agatha saw a spirit apparently attacking Aslan and, mistaking it for another hostile spirit prepared by the arsonist, incinerated it with all her might to save her son.

However, none of that mattered to Aslan. Dorothy was burning away. That was the only problem for him. At the last moment, the memory of her pushing him back, smiling, was vivid.

“Do, Dorothy…”

Calling her name for the last time, Aslan’s consciousness broke as mana exhaustion took him. And that day became the day Aslan shattered.

Yet now, Aslan had come this far to meet Dorothy again. He ridiculed his past self for choosing suicide over searching for a way to resurrect her, for failing to find salvation in Dorothy. He despised himself for nearly giving up because he couldn’t find a way, despite her saving him.

“So, then.”

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Aslan spoke up, his voice cutting through the water as he addressed the shining Spirit King’s egg.

“Dorothy, let’s meet again.”

He would atone and live with the regrets of his past for as many times as necessary. He proclaimed his desire to meet her once more, swallowing tears. He hadn’t yet received her answer that day.

In that moment, the entire lake was enveloped in a halo of light. The Spirit King’s egg Aslan was cradling began to crack, and as he slowly lifted it from the water, the radiance converged upon the egg.
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Swish—

Transparent blue hair fluttered before his eyes, and Aslan’s gaze widened more than ever before. The girl submerged in the water slowly opened her fluttering eyes and rose.

As Aslan wept underwater, he smiled gently.

“Dorothy.”

“Ah, Aslan?”

His arms reached out, pulling her into an embrace, making a vow in his heart never to lose her again. Their reunion brought a new hope to Aslan’s life, a reason to keep on living.

And then, he remembered Kraush. His benefactor was now facing off against his own grandfather.

“Dorothy, explanations will come later.”

They had to leave immediately.

＊ ＊ ＊

The clash of swords resounded. Kraush, busy with his vision, was fending off dozens of fireballs with his instincts and blunted blade. Across from him stood Adolf, exuding a casual air of confidence, every bit the formidable Ten Great Lord he was reputed to be. Kraush never intended to win. If Adolf were serious, Kraush would have been finished long ago. He could only face him because he knew Adolf wouldn’t truly engage.

‘But still.’

Kraush dodged another volley of fireballs and took a significant step back.

‘That nonchalant attitude is infuriating.’

He had only planned to buy time until Aslan could resurrect Dorothy, but looking at Adolf’s face made him reconsider. He understood why Aslan hated and resented Adolf so much. If this was what Aslan endured daily, it was no wonder.

It made Kraush want to land a solid blow.
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[Kraush.]

Crimson Garden’s voice reached him.

[The spirit has been resurrected.]
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That was enough to push Kraush’s limits beyond their bounds.