I Can Copy And Evolve Talents

It was difficult for Lirae to process the entire truth—but she did. Of course, there were countless repercussions tied to it. The truth alone had shifted the very foundation of everything they’d been struggling to protect.

Now, they had uncovered that someone was on the verge of reviving a strange quiddity of power—one capable of ending the world.

How was she supposed to bring this horrifying reality to the others and convince them to rise for the sake of the entire continent?

There were many things weighing on her mind, and topping that list was the knowledge that, with Fhugal reduced to ruin, the other nations would inevitably begin to stir. The first to make a move would likely be Sierra—that’s if they weren’t already in motion.

Northern was released after answering a few minor questions, which he did with a deliberate caution, careful not to reveal anything that might alert Ul.

Once that was done, Lirae didn’t keep him any longer. She asked him to leave. But before he departed, she asked if she would ever see him again.

Northern hadn’t been sure.

Still, he promised she would.

He almost regretted it a moment later, silently hoping he wouldn’t forget that promise.

Afterwards, he and Bairan soared into the skies and disappeared beyond the city.

Their destination, of course, was clear.

Verulania.

***

The streets of the Capital City of Verulania roared with devastation. Flames leapt from shattered buildings, licking the sky in orange waves, while people scattered in every direction, running for their lives.

The estate had been spared—for now. But the problem stretched far beyond its walls. It had unexpectedly become the safest place in the entire city, now that chaos reigned across Verulania. Monsters rampaged freely, and humans—no less savage—joined the onslaught.

Military soldiers clad in black uniforms swept down into the city like a tide of ruin, pushing their front line steadily toward the castle.

Verulania’s own forces surged out in full defense, rallying to protect what was left. At the same time, airships lifted off the ground in staggered bursts, climbing into the smoky skies—some escaping, others circling back.

The entire city had become a maelstrom of chaos, its color that of fire and ash. And rising through it all were the cries of clashing steel and the shrill, gut-wrenching wails of the dying.

A tremor rippled through the ground as a Calamitous Destroyer crashed through the outer wall—a grotesque, tusked creature dripping with ichor, its bony frame wrapped in molten sinew. It howled, and the sound shattered windows, toppling already-weakened archways into clouds of brick and dust.

The skies, once sapphire, were now stained a blistering crimson. Ash fell with snow, coating armor, rooftops, and corpses alike. A cathedral bell tolled faintly in the distance—though no one rang it—its echo warped by heat and warping winds.

Soldiers clashed beneath the tower’s shadow, their formations breaking under the relentless advance of the horde. The ground was slick with blood. A child screamed, muffled by the thunderous charge of mounted beasts—half-machine, half-flesh—ridden by some squad of military revolutionist.

Lightning crackled from the tip of a mage’s staff, arcing through three creatures before vanishing into the void. Moments later, his head rolled, separated cleanly by a man with white short hair and dark eyes who vanished in a blink.

A wyvern shrieked above, spiraling downward in a corkscrew of scale and smoke, jaws agape. It slammed into a plaza where nobles once held garden feasts. Now only charred remains and fractured marble fountains remained.

Through the haze, a lone banner flapped—tattered but unfallen—bearing the crest of Verulania: a phoenix crowned in stars.

And beneath it, a battered captain roared a final command.

“Hold the line!”

His voice was swallowed by the chaos, but his men obeyed. Not because they believed they would survive. But because nothing remained to fall back to.

The entire city was already in ruins, yet they were still shedding sweat, blood, and life to defend the castle—to stop the tide of revolutionists from breaching its gates and claiming it.

But that hope was starting to feel like a delusion. They were bound to fall—sooner rather than later—because these soldiers were simply too strong.

They had descended upon the capital without warning, storming in with terrifying airships that blotted out the sky.

At the forefront was a towering man with snow-white hair and piercing dark eyes. His face was as still and chiseled as a stone monument. His olive skin glistened under firelight, and even without lifting a weapon, his presence alone was formidable. Every movement he made spoke of overwhelming strength—and his speed was monstrous.

Still, the soldiers of Verulania had someone of their own to lean on.

He stood atop the castle wall, golden cloak rippling behind him like a torn banner defying the storm. His expression was unreadable, hardened by countless wars. Jagged beards ringed his jaw, and his cold grey eyes scanned the ruined city below—eyes so drained of warmth, they might as well have been carved from stone.

Then, slowly, the man turned his gaze to the distant mountain forests that flanked the outer gate of Verulania.

He sighed.

“How did we get here…? What is going on…”

Clicking his tongue with a trace of disdain, he stepped off the wall—casually dropping from the high ledge.

He landed without ceremony. The earth split beneath the weight of his fall, sending debris in all directions. He didn’t flinch.

He kept walking, unbothered.

From the smoke ahead, a twisted monster charged toward him. It resembled a hunched man, but stood nearly twelve meters tall—its limbs malformed, its mouth yawning open in hunger.

Before he could act, another figure intercepted it.

A flash of silver cut through the haze. A long sword, gleaming under moonlight, carved a brutal arc through the beast’s chest—black ichor spraying like a ruptured tank.

The figure glanced his way and shouted.

“Prominent Leg! Don’t worry about this one! Please—save my father’s kingdom!!”

The Duke looked at the young man with a flicker of surprise—just for a moment. Then, he let out a short laugh and shook his head.

“These people… always pushing responsibility.”

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