I Can Copy And Evolve Talents

The Shadow Drifter was nearing the midpoint of the bridge, his face darkened in a grimace as he pushed himself forward. Suddenly, something snaked out from beneath the bridge—too fast, too sudden for him to react.

A sharp, searing pain tore through his chest.

Before he could even comprehend the attack, the impact launched him backward.

At that same moment, Rita sidestepped and narrowly dodged him, her instincts sharper than thought. She hurled her spear forward just as the tentacle struck again.

The collision sent her reeling.

She landed hard, her boots screeching against the bridge's metallic surface as she skidded backward.

"What in Amenes' desolate hills is that power?!"

Her eyes widened as she glanced at her spear—its shaft smoldering from the impact.

The tentacles coiled around the bridge, anchoring themselves. A massive black eel-like entity pulled itself up onto the structure, slithering into view.

It was a grotesque mound of black, writhing flesh, its form disturbingly uneven—as if shaped by some deranged force. It had no visible eyes. Or perhaps it had eyes, just not in a place where one would expect.

Its bulk pulsed, as though it had adapted over time—learning to move, to drag itself forward, its grotesque shape undulating as it pushed against the bridge. Beneath its slimy, ink-black hide, hidden muscles twisted and uncoiled, bursting outward in the form of thick, serpentine tentacles.

It paused, an eerie stillness settling over the battlefield.

Then, as if responding to unseen stimuli, its tentacles unfurled—more and more—coiling and thickening like monstrous, sinewy ropes.

Each one rippled with unnatural power, carrying the force of a Master's full-strength punch.

Then—they attacked.

A dozen black tendrils lashed forward, tearing through the air like spears.

So did Rita.

She met the onslaught head-on.

Her spear sang, a deadly, chilling song as it wove through the air—a whirlwind of sharp arcs and blinding sparks.

Her movements were erratic, almost reckless.

But they spoke of something undeniable.

Experience.

Every inch of her stance, every flicker of motion—the sheer force behind her parries—was a testament to her years of survival.

She had been here before.

She had fought in too many rifts, survived too many deathly clashes, and learned too many brutal lessons.

Every style she wielded—every movement—was a scar of knowledge, carved from battles that should have ended her.

And now, in this moment, as she bared the pinnacle of her strength—

It was clear.

Rita was the strongest of the three Drifters.

Each collision sent shockwaves rippling through the air—a relentless storm of force and fury. The sheer succession of impacts was so fast that Rita couldn't afford to blink.

Her grip tightened.

She clenched her teeth and locked herself into position, wielding her spear in one hand, her muscles burning as she deflected strike after strike. The creature's assault was a blur of motion, an endless flurry of tentacle strikes raining down upon her.

She was holding on—barely.

Time had blurred into a single, ceaseless moment. Had it even been thirty seconds? Maybe less.

Her ligaments screamed in protest.

Her weapon—she could feel the fractures forming, the splintering vibrations rattling through her grip. Both her hands and her spear were nearing their limits.

But her eyes burned with unshakable resolve.

The fear of death paled in comparison to whatever drove her forward.

But resolve alone wouldn't win this fight.

Or hold out long enough for them to—

'No! I have to win!'

She forced the thought into her mind, steeling herself anew.

Even if it cost her life, she had to kill this creature. She had to protect everyone—their lives depended on it.

Especially the baby's.

Her gaze flicked to the back of the bridge.

Roma and the elderly man were kneeling beside the woman, preparing to bring a new life into the world—right in the middle of battle.

It was insanity.

Kion had moved closer, his attention shifting as he focused his barrels toward the bridge's rear.

Tyr, too, had taken a heavy beating—especially from the first strike.

She had to act.

The moment the thought bloomed in her mind, something changed.

Clouds of ashen smoke began creeping along the bridge—thick, suffocating, unnatural.

It spread like wildfire, but there were no flames.

The world dimmed. The battlefield became a haze of curling, shifting mist.

Then—the smoke thickened.

The fog began to coalesce, its mass growing until it formed an imposing wall at the bridge's rear, sealing off the battlefield behind them.

Kion noticed immediately, halting his fire.

At the same time, Rita bellowed—

"Focus all your barrels on the monster! Deal with it while I keep it occupied!!"

Kion grinned.

"Say no less."

His voice wasn't as loud as hers.

It didn't need to be.

The roar of his gunfire was answer enough.

Immediately, the terrifying roar of gunfire bellowed into the air—a brutal, unrelenting announcement of destruction.

But nothing changed.
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The battle remained just as intense.

The black eel's speed and strength showed no sign of waning, and Rita was still burdened with the crushing responsibility of holding the line—deflecting every attack, ensuring nothing passed through her.

She had managed to seal off the rear of the bridge with her talent.

For now, it held firm.

But that meant her essence was burning away faster than ever.

As a Master, she had already been channeling her essence to reinforce her body, enhancing her muscles, reflexes, and power just to withstand the monster's relentless onslaught.

But now—now she was burning through it at an unsustainable rate.

She bit down on her lip, the taste of blood sharp against her tongue.

'...I really am pathetic.'

The thought barely settled in her mind before—

CRACK.

Her spear let out a heart-wrenching cry—then snapped.

The moment fractured into pure havoc.

The force of the break sent her staggering backward, her balance momentarily lost.

The monster did not hesitate.

Its tentacles lunged, seizing the opportunity—

A rapid volley of shots blasted through the air, smashing into their edges, forcing them to curl back with shrieks of resistance.

But it wasn't enough.

The reprieve lasted less than half a second before another dozen tentacles lashed toward her—faster, deadlier, ruthless.

The Shadow Drifter dodged, his body weaving through the battlefield—uncaring, as always.

Kion fired another round—but the tentacles kept coming.

Rita was vulnerable.

She had fallen—her butt hitting the ground, her breath sharp and ragged.

Two tentacles—faster than the rest—slipped past Kion's gunfire, their massive forms descending upon her.

She had no time to react.

And then—

A figure blurred forward.