I Can Copy And Evolve Talents

The bridge stretched over a hundred meters long—perhaps closer to one hundred and fifty.

But distance wasn't the real obstacle.

It was the abominations.

They crawled relentlessly up the bridge's metallic legs, clawing at each other in a savage frenzy—each one desperate to be the first to climb.

Below, at the river's foundation, the waters churned—littered with monstrosities writhing beneath the bridge, eager for their first taste of flesh.

It was only thanks to Kion, the bald Drifter, that they hadn't been overwhelmed.

Kion was undoubtedly a masterful shooter.

His barrel shots plummeted down like judgment from the heavens—eviscerating most abominations in a single strike.

For those that proved resilient, clinging to life even after a direct hit—

The second shot always finished the job.

By all logic, he should have been leading the cohort.

He was their best defense, their most reliable firepower.

But Kion had one dire flaw.

He was longsighted.

He could only see distant targets clearly.

So, inevitably—he had to stay at the rear, ensuring nothing reached them from behind.

Despite this setback, their journey was smooth.

The probability of crossing the bridge without incident seemed… hopeful.

The exit was within sight.

The end was just ahead.

Then—

The bridge trembled.

A deep, unnatural vibration rippled beneath their feet.

Everyone's heads snapped backward.

At first—

They thought it had come from the battlefield behind them.

But then—

Their faces turned white.

Cold sweat dripped down their backs.

That wasn't from the battlefield.

That was close.

Too close.

The sensation was different.

It felt like something immensely powerful had grabbed the bridge itself—its grip strong enough to make it tremble.

Roma swallowed hard.

Carefully, placing one foot in front of the other, she approached the edge of the bridge—her pulse pounding against her ribs.

Her gaze dropped down to the river.

And then—

She saw it.

A black mass.

Covering a portion of the water beyond them—

Slithering.

Its form coiling, writhing—slowly pulling itself up the metallic pillar of the bridge.

The monster ignored the bridge's groaning protests as it crawled upward—obstinate, relentless.

Immediately, as Roma peered at it—

Kion's barrel roared.

A thunderous gunshot split the air, as if the atmosphere itself had been torn apart by force.

The black eel's flesh burst apart from the impact—

But it didn't stop.

It didn't even flinch.

The peeled-away skin revealed another layer—

A slick, black, slimy hide beneath.

Without hesitation—

Kion fired again.

His soul essence-infused round streaked through the air—

Colliding with the creature.
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But the result was the same.

The monster kept crawling… now slightly faster, far ahead of the bridge where everyone could see it.

Kion gritted his teeth—and let loose a full barrage.

His cock-and-shoot rifle was powerful—its fireforce staggering—

But it required precision. Timing.

He ignored the exhaustion, his hands moving with terrifying efficiency—

Shoot. Cock. Aim. Shoot.

Each round was a blast of raw soul essence—

Ripping the air apart with deafening force.

But it wasn't enough.

His chest burned. His arms trembled.

Each recoil stung like fire, rattling his bones.

Yet he bit down on the pain—

And fired again.

Kion had never shot this much, this fast.

Not in a single engagement.

But the most infuriating part—

Nothing they did was slowing it down.

Worse—

The black mass was accelerating.

The cohort broke into a run.

Trying to outrun it.

But—

They were running with a pregnant woman—

And an old man.

The elder's frail body struggled to keep up.

And then—

The woman suddenly screamed.

Her legs buckled.

Roma caught her instantly, pressing herself against her to keep her from collapsing entirely.

Her voice was sharp—urgent.

"What? What's wrong?!"

The pregnant woman turned to her—

Eyes wide with terror.

Her voice trembled—

"It's… it's… it's coming."

Roma's eyes widened.

"What? What? It's—"

She stammered, her mind scrambling for words—

And then, suddenly, she clenched her fists and let out an exasperated breath.

"Your baby has a really bad sense of timing!"

The lady Drifter, Rita, frowned darkly.

"It can't come now." Her voice was sharp, cutting. "You have to hold it in. Hell, we don't even have time to be standing around like this!"

Roma understood exactly what she meant.

Even if the woman didn't say it outright—

Her tone carried a truth much heavier than her words.

The pregnant woman wouldn't be able to move.

It was a miracle she had made it this far—so close to the end of her pregnancy, forced to run, pushed beyond her limits.

And now, at the worst possible moment, her child had decided to enter the world.

On a bridge, above a river full of monsters, with a massive abomination crawling toward them.

'Great. Just great.'

But still—they couldn't abandon her.

And Roma would never let that happen.

Her eyes snapped backward.

Going back was not an option.

The battlefield behind them was even worse than what lay ahead.

Then—

Tyr, the Shadow Drifter, suddenly gnarled in frustration and rushed forward—abandoning the group.

Rita hesitated.

Her gaze flickered between Roma, the pregnant woman barely able to stand, and the trembling old man.

Then, she gritted her teeth—and stepped forward.

But her stride was different.

Not cowardly like Tyr's desperate flight.

She spun her spear in one hand, then slammed it into the bridge's metal surface.

Her face darkened.

A warrior's resolve settled into her stance.

Roma's breath hitched.

"What are you doing?"

Rita sighed deeply.

Her voice was calm—steady.

"I'm nearing the end of my life anyway."

Her fingers tightened around her spear.

"Protecting one that's about to start its own... seems like the right thing to do."

Roma's eyes narrowed, as if trying to peer into her soul.

Rita continued—without looking back.

Her voice held a quiet, unwavering certainty.

"I have spent my life as a wretched wreck. Cast aside. Abandoned by my own kin. Discarded—because I was nothing more than a burden. A walking disaster they wanted to forget."

A bitter chuckle escaped her lips.

"I've never been someone worth saving. Never had anything worth protecting."

She exhaled slowly, the weight of her past pressing against her ribs.

But then—

Her grip on the spear hardened.

Her shoulders straightened.

Her stance became unshakable.

"But this… This is different."

She lifted her chin, eyes steady.

"A life is about to begin. And I am ashamed that, for a moment, I considered running again. Because that's all I've ever done— Run. And I am tired of running."

Her jaw clenched.

A flicker of vicious self-directed anger burned in her eyes.

"If this is the bridge where I lay my life for the birth of something purer, something better—Then let it be so."

Finally—

She turned her head just slightly.

Roma caught the flicker of defiance in her gaze.

"If I'm going to die—"

Her grip tightened on the spear.

"Let it be for something that matters."

Then—

She stepped forward.

Her spear sliced the air, sharp as a blade of judgment.

And she did not look back.