I Can Copy And Evolve Talents

Chapter 1111: Titan’s Reckoning

The Chaos Prince shot Northern a dubious look.

"You... know someone... who can shatter the manifestation of an Origin?"

The Chaos Prince still stared at him in disbelief.

Northern nodded.

"Yes. We might all have to work together."

The Chaos Prince frowned, wincing slightly.

"What? Partner, are you serious?"

Northern met his gaze steadily.

"Is this the time to joke?"

Chaos Prince paused, genuinely confused, then sighed.

"Okay, how do we reach this person?"

Northern gazed into the vast darkness beneath him—it felt like standing above a world of endless night.

"He will come to us."

Northern had no choice. The second option was to summon Abyss Tyrant, but he didn’t know how that would play out. He still didn’t think Chaos Prince understood them clearly, so it was safer to keep them out of this—lest the jester pull some twisted trick on him.

So he had to choose the first option: Titan’s Reckoning.

As the thought formed, a new Northern materialized in the air.

Chaos Prince nearly staggered back but caught himself mid-movement.

"Oh shoot! Two Northerns! Partner!"

He whipped his head between Northern and Northern.

Northern sighed and shook his head, pointing to the newly emerged clone. Both wore identical attire—white layered robes with crossed collars beneath black outer robes.

"No, this isn’t Northern. This is Titan."

Chaos Prince scowled at the pointing Northern with a stern frown.

"What? This is obviously Northern, and so are you!"

He jabbed his finger proudly.

But Northern shook his head. Titan spoke.

"I am Titan. Nice to meet you. Who might you be?"

Titan stared at Northern, awaiting a response.

But Northern waved the question aside.

"Forget it—he’s not important. There are more pressing matters."

Titan folded his hands, gazing downward slowly.

"Ah, yes. I can see that too."

Meanwhile, colorless sparks like winds themselves shimmered over Titan’s robes, forming jagged obsidian armor with molten veins coursing across its surface.

"What do you need me to do?"

Northern sighed, staring down for a few moments. Then he turned to the Chaos Prince.

"Do you think the dome will crack if we drop a mountain on it?"

It took the Chaos Prince several seconds to snap out of his trance-like state of watching two identical people converse like strangers.

He knew Northern could create clones. But these two—they spoke and felt like completely different people.

He almost wondered, ’Is Northern a twin and I never realized?’ before being jolted from his thoughts.

"Ohh... ahhh... sorry, what was the question again?"

He laughed sheepishly.

Northern glared at him.

"What are you spacing out for? I asked—what do you think will happen if we drop a mountain on it?"

Chaos Prince looked down, his expression distant before responding.

"I don’t think it will make any difference."

His expression regained its usual composure as he continued.

"The manifestation of an Origin—I don’t think you’ve come to truly comprehend it. Well, no surprise really. I was half one, and I spent nearly my entire life understanding that meager half I possessed. If you dropped an entire world on it, nothing would change."

Northern nodded.

"I see. Then there’s no problem—everything remains on track. Titan, go obliterate the ground surrounding the chasm. We’ll level everything until that demented prisoner and filthy witch are fighting on open ground again."

Chaos Prince’s expression twisted in shock. He tried to stop Northern, but Northern shot into the air with Titan close behind. The next thing he registered was a thunderous tremor that shook the very foundation of the landscape.

"What in the world...?"

Chaos Prince wasn’t sure what Northern was doing at first, but it was as if he was unleashing world-ending missiles upon the earth.

The earth rippled violently, convulsed as if something was trying to break free, and erupted in tremendous explosions of stone chunks and debris.

This continued relentlessly. The world drowned in absolute uproar—the sickening noise of utter destruction.

Snow mist billowed and shrouded the entire area. Soon, the desert’s true nature began revealing itself as intense heat twisted through the air and swirled around them. Every battle raging across the plain—except for the Origins’ clash contained in a separate space—ground to a sudden halt.

Northern even manipulated the air itself, transforming it into a drilling machine. And Titan became the world-ending missile hurled into the earth.

With his talent ability [Unyielding Bulwark], Titan could easily amplify his body weight to that of an entire mountain, tremendously boosting his defense. But moving with such crushing weight would be an impossible task, so he simply launched himself skyward, transformed his body to mountain-weight, and plummeted earthward with devastating force and impact—shattering the frozen ground and sending sand spilling forth alongside ice debris.

The ground continued fracturing, making Northern realize just how deep the frost had penetrated. But everything was unraveling now—under the hands of its creator.

The world groaned in agony beneath Titan’s weight. To amplify the destruction, he would weaken the earth’s resistance with [Weight of the World] before each crushing impact.

This deadly combination forged a perfect agent of annihilation that made the world around them shriek.

When the ground grew too stubborn to break, Northern simply unleashed wind manipulation to whip the sands into a storm.

His efficiency stunned him once again—how effortlessly his control over air penetrated the crimson sand and rapidly lifted it skyward. Though it was late afternoon, dark shadows engulfed the landscape as red sands gathered beneath the heavens, plunging the world below into darkness.

Koll and Revant, who had been caught in the tangled mess of destruction while savagely tearing each other apart, were forcefully separated and hurled aside by the earthquakes and fracturing ground.

Koll was obsessed with reaching Revant, but the land was splitting apart and seemed to turn against both of them—every time he moved, the ground ripped like torn linen.

It would have been the same for Revant if not for the fact that he stood transfixed, watching the destruction unfold. His lungs felt cold, and the air seemed to have dried completely.

Was this what people called a dry throat? When you witness a scale of impossibility and madness that makes your throat go bone-dry.