I Can Copy And Evolve Talents

Everything about the attack just now was terrifying. Even with just a glimpse of power, Northern could somewhat comprehend the kind of monstrous force Sage Severing Waves would one day become.

If this was what he was like already… Northern couldn’t help but wonder how strong his parents must have been. Or his elder brother.

There was no doubt, they were going to be insanely powerful.

The attack moments ago had threatened to tear the very wind apart. Northern felt his heartbeat surge, stronger than usual, and his hand almost moved to clutch his chest in excitement.

And despite all of that force—there wasn’t even a single scratch. Not a whiff of smoke left behind on the trapped hand. Not even the slightest mark to show that an ancient weapon had just collided with that skin—and shattered instantly.

Northern suddenly began to feel a tinge of pity for his Illusion Hefter. Of course, he wasn’t stupid enough to use a legendary item to strike a Leviathan, not when even an ancient weapon had failed.

Especially when some of his standalone talent abilities were sharper and more powerful than legendary or ancient items. Take Black Lance, for example.

Northern exhaled slowly. A subtle smile still lingered at the corner of his lips as he turned toward the Paragon.

Burning Storm scratched his temple with the amputated hand he was holding, instantly making Northern wince.

“Please… can you stop doing that?”

The Paragon glanced at Northern with a slight frown.

“Stop doing what? Are you going to give me another hand?”

Northern winced harder.

“What? Am I selling hands? No!”

Burning Storm rolled his eyes, lazy and unbothered.

“Then shut up and stop complaining… Now, what do we do?”

Northern frowned and looked away, his gaze returning to the lazy, titanic hand still hovering ahead.

Silence lingered between them.

Then he glanced down.

There was still Ascendant Zion, Sage Mack, and one other man standing on the roof. The third, Northern could easily identify as Roma’s brother—he looked just like Sage Rhama.

‘All her siblings have blue hair. Why does she have blonde hair?’

He shoved the question aside almost as quickly as it had come and narrowed his focus on Ascendant Zion.

“Wait. He’s an Ascendant, isn’t he?”

Paragon Raizel followed Northern’s gaze to the man below.

“I mean… he is called Ascendant Zion.”

“It was rhetorical.”

Northern responded sharply, then flashed downward in a swift blink. He landed softly, looking at Ascendant Zion with one hand rubbing his jaw, scrutinizing.

The Ascendant flinched slightly, startled both by Northern’s sudden descent and the strange look in his eyes. He instinctively stepped back, gaze uncertain.

[Profile]

Name: Sinnai Zion

True Name: [Stone Crest]

Attributes: [The Three Jagged Peak]

Soul Rank: [Ephemeral]

Soul Core Saturation: [Low]

Talent: [Titanhide Bastion]

Talent Class: [A]

Talent Abilities: [Stone Cloak], [Earthen Pulse], [Mountain Grasp], [Obsidian Blood], [Pillar of Ruin], [Golem’s Rebirth]

‘Interesting… seems similar to Titan’s Reckoning in subtle ways. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re somehow related.’

Northern gave a half-shrug and refocused his attention on Ascendant Zion.

“So… would you like to try?”

Ascendant Zion looked up at the massive hand hanging from the rift above, his face pale with hesitation. The terror was written all over his expression.

“I mean… Sage Rhama tried. And failed. I don’t even have a legendary item in my arsenal.”

Northern grimaced, eyes narrowing as he regarded him.

“Come on. Speak about yourself with more confidence. You’re an Ascendant. Why are you placing yourself beneath others?”

Ascendant Zion shook his head, a faint, sheepish smile on his lips.

“You don’t understand, Sage Rian… These are people with magnanimous experience in battle. That alone makes up for whatever they’re lacking in ranks.”

“Sure. I’m not disputing that.”

Northern’s voice was firm but not unkind.

“But it doesn’t change the fact that you are an Ascendant. If you don’t want to try out of fear, that’s your decision. I won’t push you.”

He sighed and turned to walk away, disappointment quietly sinking into his posture.

But before he could take a full step—

“Wait…”

Northern paused.

Ascendant Zion’s voice trembled slightly. He fidgeted before speaking again.

“But even if I was to try… that thing’s too far into the sky. And I can’t fly.”

Northern turned back, a subtle grin spreading across his face.

“That’s simple.”

He snapped his fingers.

Instantly, black tendrils crawled out from his back, slithering along the rooftop like serpents. They climbed over Zion’s body, wrapping around him with eerie precision—until they expanded, forming a widespread black wing structure across his back.

Everyone behind them froze.

A few gasps.

Even Burning Storm leaned forward slightly.

Rover muttered to himself, eyes wide in disbelief.

“How can he even do that?”

Northern smiled and waved his hand. With that simple motion, the large black wings flapped—and carried Ascendant Zion into the air.

Zion’s eyes widened in awe, wind roaring past his ears as he soared above the rooftops—without a flight ability of his own. The wings carried him effortlessly toward the rift, where they came to a halt beside Paragon Raizel.

The Paragon turned to him with a peculiar smile, then casually waved the amputated hand he was still holding.

“Hii… welcome on board.”

Zion paled.

Then he looked forward.

His gaze landed on the titanic hand hanging in the sky—and he paled even more. His skin drained of color until he looked almost ghostly white.

He didn’t know where to look anymore. His gaze danced from the hand to the horizon, to the rooftops below, to the faces watching him.

Then Northern drifted up beside him, hovering calmly in the air, a small smile playing on his lips.

“So… what do you think you can pull off against it?”

Zion lingered in silence, thinking. Weighing. Then he slowly nodded.

“Most of my abilities are defense-based. They don’t work well for long-range attacks… However, there’s one. I could use it.”

Northern nodded firmly, his voice carrying unwavering support.

“Good. Then go for it.”

Zion smiled—handsome, suddenly confident.

“Is it okay if you give me some space?”

Northern arched a brow, then chuckled softly.

“Oh. Of course. Why not?”

He drifted away, followed by Paragon Raizel and the other summons, giving Zion a wide berth.

Once they were clear…

Zion inhaled.

A deep, mad breath that swelled his chest monstrously wide. He sucked his bottom lip in, making an awkward face that scrunched his features—then exhaled with force.

A whirlwind erupted.

Brown dust spiraled into the air, weaving chaotically around him. The air thickened, the air vibrating from the pulse of energy rising from his core.

Northern’s eyes narrowed slightly.

‘Is that… the nature of his essence? Dust?’

No.

Not quite.

As the dust storm intensified, Northern began to see it—this was only the beginning. A prelude. The true essence had evolved beyond that, far beyond what it used to be.

The dust coarsened into sand. The sand condensed further, swirling faster, until it began merging with glowing brown lights that flickered like embers in a forge.

And then, the sand molded.

Extended.

Twisted and grew.

Until a colossal cone of rock emerged from the storm—twice the size of the hand in the rift. It cast a dark, ominous shadow over all of Lithia.

The structure was crude—massive, unrefined, but filled with terrifying weight. It didn’t float gently. It hurled forward, flung like a mountain being fired from a cannon, its sheer momentum shaking the sky.

Tumultuous power roared outward as the stone cone barreled through the sky, aiming straight for the hand.

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