I Can Copy And Evolve Talents

Chapter 531: Disgusting Disappointment



The cloaked man roared in frustration and swung once more, this time faster, his blade leaving a blur of silver in its wake as it came down.

Northern met the attack with his Dark Mortal Blade, their swords clashing in a violent burst of sparks.

The force of the impact sent shockwaves rippling through the air, and for a brief moment, the two warriors were locked in place, their blades grinding against one another.

The man gritted his teeth, his maroon eyes burning with rage. "Stop dodging, damn you!" he spat, pushing against Northern's blade with all his might.

Northern's eyes, however, were calm.

He tilted his head slightly, studying the man's face-his posture, his tension.

It was clear that the man was relying on sheer brute force now, trying to overpower him.

But power alone would never be enough.

Northern then raised a brow in confusion, pausing to ask the man.

"I don't understand. Why are you not using your talent?"

He looked at all of them, "Why did you all not use your talents?"

It was almost like they all relied on sheer power. And he was very sure they were drifters too.

If so, why were they not using their powers? Northern was very confused.

The man frowned very darkly and rushed forward again, meeting Northern in a lock of blades.

Northern met his furious gaze with a cold and calculating one, raising his head slightly as he observed the man's expression.

Then he concluded.

"It seems you won't use your talent ability no matter what. It's so sad that this will come to a quick end."

With a sudden shift of weight, Northern released the pressure, letting the man's own force carry him forward.

The cloaked man stumbled, his balance momentarily thrown off, and in that split second, Northern struck.

He didn't aim for a killing blow, not yet.

Instead, he allowed the flat of his blade to slam into the man's ribs, sending him skidding across the blood-soaked deck.

The man gasped, coughing as he scrambled to his feet, pain flashing across his features.

Yet, he stood again, his grip tightening around his sword. "Bastard," he hissed through clenched teeth.

Northern's voice remained cold and indifferent. "You're too predictable."

That single sentence ignited something fierce in the man. He lunged again, his movements wild now, less refined.

Northern sighed inwardly. This was always the problem-rage made opponents sloppy. It clouded their judgment, made them easy to read.

'This is so disappointing; how can fighting monsters be more interesting than fighting humans?'

The cloaked man's greatsword came crashing down, but Northern stepped forward this time, slipping into the man's guard with fluid precision.

He sidestepped and thrust his fist into the man's jaw, sending him staggering back, dazed.

Northern followed up immediately, his footwork a blur of speed, and swung Dark Mortal in a wide arc.

The cloaked man barely managed to raise his sword to block, but the force of the blow sent him reeling.

Northern pressed forward, his strikes relentless yet flowing without pattern.

One moment, his sword was aimed at the man's chest, the next, it was sweeping toward his legs, forcing the man to stay on the defensive, his movements increasingly desperate.

With each clash, Northern felt it-the combat style he was beginning to craft.

It had no fixed form, no set rhythm.

It was like the wind, like the chaos that swirled within him.

There was beauty in that unpredictability, in the formlessness.

A combat style that would never be bound by techniques passed down through generations like these heritages.

No, his style would be something entirely his own!

The cloaked man, blood dripping from his mouth, finally managed to create some distance between them, panting heavily.

His eyes darted around, searching for an opening, but Northern gave him none.

"This is... impossible..." the man wheezed, his voice shaky. "How can someone like you- "

Northern cut him off, his tone almost bored. "Someone like me?"

He tilted his head slightly, his cold gaze locking onto the man's.

"I already told you, didn't I? You were unlucky enough to cross paths with me. Besides, I don't understand why you won't just use your talent and make this easier for yourself. I thought fighting a human would be so rewarding really."

His voice went low in disappointment, "Instead, it's been a disgusting disappointment."

The man roared again, the silver blade flashing one last time as he made his final, desperate

charge.

But Northern was ready.

His form seemed to blur as he moved, his footwork weaving between the man's frantic

attacks.

With a graceful twist, Northern sidestepped the final swing and brought Dark Mortal Blade down in a brutal, decisive strike.

The blade cut deep into the man's chest, cleaving through muscle and bone.

Blood sprayed across the deck, painting the air red as the man let out a choked gasp.

His eyes widened in disbelief as he stared at Northern, his mouth opening and closing, but no

words came.

Northern stepped back, pulling his blade free, and watched as the man collapsed to the ground, blood pooling beneath him.

The wind howled around them, the ship creaking ominously beneath the weight of the battle's aftermath.

For a moment, Northern stood there, staring down at the broken body of his opponent, his

mind quiet.

Northern then swept his eyes across the entire deck, and as he did, his eyes slowly expanded.

Because all the bodies he had just dealt with were totally gone, leaving only the cloakedNôv(el)B\\jnn

man's.

'What happened?' His mind wondered.

Then his eyes narrowed as Chaos Eyes revealed themselves, something was birthed before his

vision.

It made him pale with irritation.

The ligatures that were supposed to weave the man's body, even the blood, all of it was

nonexistent.

He looked down at the man's body, the pupils in his expanded eyes trembling.

'Have I been fighting an illusion all the while?'

No, it wasn't an illusion. It couldn't have been. It was too perfect to be an illusion.

Then were they clones?

Northern grimaced, 'All this blood... it's too real, more like an illusion but at the same time it's not an illusion... if it's cloning then it's a very interesting kind of cloning.'

His eyes contorted with intense lust, "I want it!"

Finally, he watched as the cloaked man's body dissolved into ashes and flowed into the air, his

eyes slowly watching as the ashes went.

Then he called out, "Black Mamba."

As if he had been waiting all along, Black Mamba appeared instantaneously, kneeling before

Northern.

"Follow it. Do not engage and do not be detected," Northern commanded.

Black Mamba immediately scurried away like a snake.