I Can Copy And Evolve Talents

Chapter 1123: The State of the Continent

Arlem was shaken; he frowned. So did the others standing at the stairs.

Jakim glared directly at Annette.

"How do we even know you’re telling the truth?"

Annette sighed.

"Boy? Do I look like I have time to lie to you? My friend and student is in Stelia, fighting for the world’s fate. I’m not about to be grilled by you—will you take me to the person in charge, or do you want to find out just how scorching I can get?"

Jakim stared at her with blank eyes for a long moment. Then he swallowed and turned around, frowning.

"Follow us."

Arlem glanced at his brother and looked at Annette as they drew closer.

He walked beside Annette while Jakim led them past the palace’s fallen gate.

Annette looked around. She could see the enormous bodies of monsters and couldn’t help but wonder how they’d managed to defeat such abominations.

She turned forward and asked, her expression slightly twisted.

"Just what in Ul’s world happened here?"

Arlem shook his head dejectedly.

"It was a catastrophe, Lady Annette. One minute, I was dining with my family—the next, terrible Maelstroms were erupting from the water and crashing down on the city. Before we knew it, men in black uniforms had surrounded our walls: from the mountains, from within the city, everywhere. Even inside the palace."

Annette’s face contorted with mounting horror as she saw the bodies being gathered and the staggering losses they’d suffered.

Flying with Northern, they’d managed to save some nations, but none had endured this much devastation. The carnage made her think:

’If Northern were here... they wouldn’t have lost so much.’

At first she wanted to berate herself for heaping responsibility on Northern again, but she had to face the truth.

What would change if she’d been here?

Nothing.

So the only person who could make a difference was Northern. The only one capable of saving everyone was Northern.

She shook her head in anguish.

Arlem, seeing her expression, smiled grimly. He hesitated.

"Lady Annette... is the Central Plains truly under siege?"

Annette nodded.

"This is only a fraction of the losses we’ll suffer if we do nothing."

Arlem sighed wearily.

They finally reached the palace hall’s entrance.

Jakim turned to Annette.

"Please choose who should accompany you."

Annette looked at Zeek, then at Hana.

The three of them continued inside with Arlem and his brother, while the rest remained outside. A long procession trailed behind, though not everyone from South Drywall was present—some had scattered in different directions.

They entered the hall, walking through the enormous hallway that had become a graveyard of columns. Soon they climbed a spiraling staircase that led to a vast hall beyond two colossal doors pushed open by guards.

The space was grand, with blue curtains now shredded to tatters. Toward the right, where grand windows once stood, gaped a gaping wound that had claimed most of the wall—as if something monstrous had slammed into this side of the palace and crashed through.

Stone shards and broken pillars littered the throne hall. Black, putrid blood stained the floor, but no bodies remained.

As Annette and her party entered, everyone in the throne hall turned toward them.

Quite a few stood below the dais, while the Prince himself sat exhaustedly on the wide Azure throne.

Among the men in the hall stood one figure—massive, like a standing bull, his armor making him imposing despite the terrible, impossible dents scarring its surface. A white bandage covered one eye, and his deep blue hair fell around his neck and back like a mane.

Jakim approached the man, who bowed and whispered something to him.

Then he walked up to the Prince and whispered in his ear before returning to his position.

The other elders in the hall wore various types of armor—none looked pristine. All had suffered one casualty or another.

"I greet you... I’m not sure what to call you. My subject tells me you bring urgent news about the continent’s state."

Annette breathed deeply and stepped forward, stopping fewer than ten steps from the rows of armored elders facing each other.

She looked up at the Prince and began:

"From the Academy itself, to Verulania, Orrivale, Brassenthium, Welster, Drywall, all these nations have suffered devastating attacks from monsters and men in black uniform just like you have. But that is barely a scratch of what really is going on."

***

Drenched in evening light, the valley lay hushed beneath its mountains’ shadow, trembling with catastrophe.

The towering cliffs had carved out this region’s proud palaces.

Evening light spilled across green fields and silver rivers, creating a haunting testament to the land’s devastation.

Massive smoke coiled where villages once stood, their thatched roofs shattered, fields torn into muddy scars beneath claw and fang.

The grand palace itself—etched into the mountain’s very bones—burned with scattered fires, its gates battered, its walls scarred by monstrous siege.

From the river rose blood’s stench, carried by corpses drifting downstream. In the cold evening light, beast cries echoed through the gorge, circling ever closer, as if the mountains themselves had become cages.

But that was what one saw without taking a deeper, keener look at the disaster.

While the territory had suffered devastating losses from the initial assault, it was actually the attackers who had suffered more—and now regretted ever attempting to breach such a formidable clan.

Several hunched creatures scattered across the land, brutally ravaged by sinister black-armored knights.

The creatures’ gaunt frames stretched over sinew and exposed muscle, slick with blood. Jagged spines jutted along their backs—each a cruel weapon—while elongated limbs ended in claws sharp enough to shred steel.

Yet they scurried away in raw terror as the dark-armored warriors closed in.

The knights suddenly halted. Half a second later, something streaked across the sky and crashed into the fleeing abominations, shaking the earth with a shockwave that rippled outward in expanding circles.

From the sudden silence, someone slowly rose. She was draped in black elegance—braided hair framing a pale, unyielding face, her eyes cold crimson shadows that regarded the world with quiet contempt.

Clad in black lace and a corseted coat, she stepped from the dust cloud. As radiance painted her pale features, she appeared like beauty forged into a blade—silent, severe, and untouchably alluring.