I Can Copy And Evolve Talents

Northern stood still, his face pale and bleak.

For the first time in a while, uncertainty gripped him.

The shifting cloud of shadows had just confirmed a terrible truth—physical attacks wouldn't work.

And that fact bothered him.

It wasn't just a setback.

It was a challenge to his very existence.

The idea that no matter how much effort he put into a physical attack, the outcome would remain the same? That he would never be able to overpower it through sheer force?

Unacceptable.

'Is this the only kind of pride strong people can afford?'

The thought unsettled him for a moment.

He wasn't one to oversell himself, but facts were facts.

Among Drifters, only a handful could match his strength. Most of them were Paragons.

And among those Paragons, none could permanently wield more than one talent and its abilities.

But he could.

So if anyone had the right to pride, it was him.

He hadn't just arrived at this point.

He had crawled his way here.

When he couldn't run, he walked.

When he couldn't walk, he crawled.

And when even crawling was impossible, he slithered—dragging himself through the dirt like a limbless mass of flesh, inching forward no matter what.

He had never stopped moving.

And that was why he was here.

The Dark Continent—really a land of disaster—but because of that had been his crucible.

A forge that had remade him.

Though he didn't like everything he had become, and though he knew he still had room to grow, he was thankful.

So let him have his pride.

…And let him be humbled by the terrifying experience of failure.

Northern exhaled.

His eyes slipped shut for a moment. His breath steadied.

A slow inhale.

A long, controlled exhale.

Vapor curled from his nostrils like steaming mist.

And then—

The world ignited.

A burning sun exploded into existence behind him, bursting out of thin air with an unforgiving radiance.

The trees—tall, ancient, unwavering—stood no chance.

They were incinerated in an instant.

The entire landscape bathed in a golden glow.

Searing heat scorched the ground, reducing it to nothing.

The miniature day-star loomed high above, casting its blazing presence over the forest like the backdrop of a dying horizon.

Northern stood before it—his silhouette cut against the radiant fireball, his back glowing with celestial fury.

And for the first time—

The creeping shadows stopped.

Their slithering tendrils recoiled, curling back in a sudden terrified retreat.

It was like watching a monster shrink away from a flame that could eradicate its very soul.

Northern glanced at the radiant sphere.

He remembered the small sun halo he had once summoned in the dungeon.

This?

This was a hundred times its size.

Sun Nova was like a child of the true sun, plucked from the horizon and placed here—

In the middle of the wrong world.

An out-of-place scenery.

A satisfied grin curled on Northern's lips as he turned to face the encroaching shadows.

"I said it… only the strong can afford pride."

His eyes burned with a wicked glint, their light radiating with the same intensity as the miniature sun behind him.

And then—

Flames rained down.

Like comets streaking through the sky, fireballs erupted from the Sun Nova, plunging into the swirling abyss.

Northern watched as the darkness recoiled.

His grin remained for a moment—

Then vanished.

'…Uh?'

His brows twitched.

No effect.

The fireballs disappeared into the abyss—swallowed whole.

Or maybe not swallowed.

Lost.

Lost in the tumultuous waves of shadows, flickering for an instant before vanishing into the inky depths.

Northern couldn't tell if they were truly being consumed or if they simply ceased to exist upon entering.

But what he did know—was that it wasn't enough.

The malevolent storm continued its slow advance. This time, however, its movements had changed.

The slithering darkness no longer lunged forward.

It crawled—measured, deliberate—like a predator wary of the flame but undeterred by it.

Northern narrowed his eyes.

'Is it adapting?'
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With a swift motion, he swung his hand forward.

A torrent of fire cascaded down in a ceaseless barrage, crashing into the shadows with relentless force.

But—

Nothing changed.

It was the same.

Northern exhaled, brushing his fingers through his dark bangs, roughening them as he stared, speechless, at the slowly marching storm.

'This bastard…'

It was useless.

No matter how much effort he put into a physical attack, it would always end the same way.

This was not something he could defeat with brute strength.

The very thing he had relied on to bulldoze his way through every adversary.

He had always believed that everything could be broken with enough force.

And yet—

Here he was.

His arms folded, his eyes shut in frustration.

As much as he hated to admit it—

The Central Plains… No, maybe this entire damned continent was a crucible of its own.

Not just because of the rifts. But because of the insidious monstrosities that lurked outside of it.

Creatures that had grown and adapted to nature itself—rather than following the orthodoxy of rift-spawned beings.

And there were many of them.

Northern exhaled sharply.

He was beginning to understand why being a Drifter here was hell.

His brows twitched, and with a frustrated growl, he ignited his eyes with a brilliant glow.

'Okay, damn it. I might've been a little full of myself a second ago…

'Maybe there are some things I can't solve by just being persistent…'

But then—

His thoughts halted.

His eyes narrowed.

Something was moving.

Beneath the crawling feet of the shadows.

Not something.

Many things.

His pupils dilated.

And then—

They emerged.

Hordes.

Not just monsters—

Humans.

They burst from the darkness, weapons clutched in their hands, eyes gleaming with madness.

And they were charging straight for him.

All kinds of lights illuminated in their palms, the glow of talent abilities activating in rapid succession.

Monsters snarled savagely, their guttural growls reverberating through the air as they tore across the distance with unnatural speed.

There was no grace to their movements—only raw, rabid hunger.

Northern frowned, slightly. His heart pounded—not in alarm, but with an out-of-place exhilaration.

A rush.

Not out of fear.

But out of excitement.

As if his very existence had been waiting for something like this.

His eyes flickered, scanning the battlefield.

He had barely questioned where the humans had come from when the answer struck him like an afterthought.

The shadows had consumed them.

And in doing so—

It had made them its own.

'What a peculiar ability…'

A brief thought surfaced in his mind, half-curious, half-amused.

'I don't suppose my flames will be coming back at me…'

And then—

A deep, ominous glow flared within the depths of the shadows.

Dark energy pulsed, parting the thick veil just slightly—

Just enough for the burning comets he had launched earlier to come blazing back in a relentless storm.

They burst forth in a dazzling onslaught—a myriad of fiery streaks cutting through the sky, each one flashing toward him with terrifying speed.

Northern glanced up.

Paused.

Then let out a paled chuckle.

"Yeah… right. Fuck me."