I Can Copy And Evolve Talents

No matter how calm he tried to feel about it—

The situation was disastrous.

And it was anything but funny.

Northern's pale face tightened, the faint smile on his lips vanishing as comets of flame curled through the air, streaking downward in an unrelenting barrage.

Then—

Impact.

A massive tremor shook the entire forest.

Explosions boomed in rapid succession, a terrifying golden glow igniting the battlefield as shockwaves tore through the air.

The land was in ruins.

Trees—obliterated.

The snow—long burned away, reduced to nothing but vapor.

Amidst the devastation, however—

The thralls of the shadow storm still surged forward.

They entered the billowing black clouds of soot, forming an opposing tempest against the creeping abyss. Their weapons lashed out like whips of terror, their abilities flashing with deadly intensity.

Yet Northern—

He stood in the midst of the disaster, as good as he had been a couple of seconds before.

The bombardment of flames?

This was exactly what the Void Force was meant for.

To trap power in its endless vacuum and redirect it. But he wasn't going to use it.

If he did—

He'd only be feeding the shadow storm more weapons for it to turn against him.

So, he would deal with the thralls first.

And stall for time.

That thought barely settled in his mind when a massive figure hurtled toward him.

A hulking human—his eyes nothing but pools of darkness—charged with reckless force.

Northern sidestepped effortlessly, letting the Drifter slipped past him—

And before the man could react, Northern swung.

The Illusioned Hefter sliced through the air—an invisible arc—

And the man's arm was severed. A clean cut.

Northern suddenly frowned, his face twisting with darkness.

Even though he had cut down the thrall who is clearly a drifter, he did not see any blood.

The thrall didn't scream. Didn't flinch.

Instead—

He stumbled forward, his face contorted with a ferocious, burning anger.

Northern's eyes flickered.

The others—

They reflected the same madness and were closing in.

One after another, they lunged.

A fierce torrent of fiendish horror—

Raining down on him with a barrage of weapons and abilities.

For an imperceptible millisecond, Northern did not move—only his four pupils did, each shooting in a different direction, tracking the thralls as they lunged at him from all sides. Some were faster than others—a chaotic mix of monsters and humans.

Not that he cared.

His expression remained cold, his eyes impassive to the disaster unfolding before him.

Then, in a moment of sheer terror—

He vanished.

His form flickered between the rain of thralls like a wraith of death itself, leaving nothing but destruction in his wake.

His movements were precise—

Clinical. Enjoy new chapters from My Virtual Library Empire

Each strike of the Illusioned Hefter carved through the possessed warriors as if they were made of paper. Limbs separated from bodies. Weapons clattered to the ground. Yet still, they pressed on—mindless automatons driven by something far darker than mere bloodlust.

Northern's expression hardened.

As much as he entertained the idea of keeping himself occupied with these mindless vessels of shadow, he knew the real master was creeping forward.

It was only a matter of time before it absorbed him into its depths.

And then what?

He wanted to leave. Disengage. Fly back. Retreat.

But what if the storm picked up its pace and began to chase?

Would they even be able to outrun it?

'...tch.'

Northern clicked his tongue in frustration.

He twisted as a thrall lunged from his left, wielding what appeared to be a crystalline sword pulsing with an unsettling violet light.

The blade passed through the space where his neck had been a fraction of a second before.

The Illusioned Hefter flashed—

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

The thrall collapsed, bisected in multiple places—but even as its pieces hit the ground, they continued to writhe, reaching for him, animated by that same dark force.

Northern's eyes narrowed.

The shadow storm wasn't just controlling these beings—

It was using them as conduits.

Each one was connected to it, drawing power from its endless void, becoming extensions of its will.

Which meant—

His lips pressed into a thin line as realization struck.

Cutting them down wouldn't be enough.

He needed to sever their connection to the storm itself.

'But how?'

The thought barely had time to form before the air around him shifted.

The pressure grew heavy—suffocating.

Breathing felt like drowning in tar.

The remaining thralls had formed a circle around him.

Their movements—once chaotic—were now synchronized. Mechanical.

Their eyes—once filled with mindless rage now gleamed with calculated purpose. The shadow storm was learning.

Adapting.

The battlefield was no longer a wild frenzy of attacks. It had become a trap, a mechanical formation.

The thralls were no longer fighting as individual warriors—

But as pieces of a greater whole.

Northern's grip on the Illusioned Hefter tightened imperceptibly.

'This bastard. What? You think I'm a delicious meal? Are you salivating at the thought of having me to yourself?'

Time wasn't just running out.

It was working against him.

Every second that passed gave the storm more data—more opportunities to analyze his movements.

To understand his patterns.

To find weaknesses.

And now—

The creeping bastard was closer than ever.

He needed to end this.

Somehow.

And maybe—

Maybe getting consumed was the correct answer.

Northern looked at the encircling thralls, a trace of horror flickering across his face.

'I can't believe I'm about to let myself get swallowed by a monster.'

Northern paused, breathing softly as he examined them. The synchronized thralls mirrored his movement—albeit slowly.

Then—

They moved.

A symphony of terrifying flashes converged into the circle in an instant. The battlefield bellowed and rolled, chaos surging as monsters and humans moved with an impossible coordination, all diving in—one delicious meal in their sights.

'Bastards.'

Northern gritted his teeth in annoyance.

He vanished.

Blink.

Using the Illusioned Hefter's order ability to appear and disappear as many times as he pleased, he wove through the storm like an untouchable phantom, his invisible blade lashing out like a furious wind—whipping away heads in devastating arcs and curls.

His right hand was a whirlwind of chaos, twisting and curling like a malicious serpent, relentless in its hunt.

Nothing could be seen of his blade—only the aftermath.

A terrible clangor rolled through the maelstrom, metal singing as body parts spilled like souvenirs from each swift, deadly voyage.

Northern's eyes remained cold—calculating.

Unwavering.

His focus was unshakable, stark, untouched by the carnage around him.

And all the while—one compartment of his vision kept watch as the creeping shadows loomed ever closer, salivating.

'Come, come… come have this mouth-watering meal whole.'