I Can Copy And Evolve Talents

Chapter 1257: The Test of Confirmation [part 1]

The King stopped mid-step, eyebrows rising.

Roma looked like she wanted to say something—probably a warning about royal protocol—but Northern was already continuing.

"I understand skepticism. Really, I do. It sounds impossible. But I don’t have time for lengthy explanations or proof-gathering expeditions." He glanced around the throne room, taking in the carved stone pillars, the guards positioned at every entrance, the courtiers watching with barely concealed curiosity. "Send scouts to Stelia if you want confirmation. Send your whole army. I genuinely don’t care. What I care about is retrieving Abyss Tyrant and leaving."

"Abyss Tyrant?" The King frowned. "The monster we have in custody?"

"Yes. He’s mine. Part of my group." Northern’s tone suggested this should have been obvious. "I’d like him back, along with the doctor you’re also holding."

The official who’d brought them stepped forward, indignation written across his face. "Your Majesty, this is absurd! We cannot simply release potentially dangerous entities on the word of—"

"On the word of the person who could level this entire mountain if he felt like it," Northern said conversationally. "Not that I would. Too much effort. But let’s not pretend you could stop me if I decided to just take them."

The threat—casual, almost throwaway—landed like a thunderclap.

The guards tensed. Hands moved toward weapons. The Admiral’s expression shifted to something wary, his posture subtly adjusting into something more defensive.

But the King... the King laughed.

It was a genuine sound, surprised and almost delighted. The tension in the room wavered, uncertain how to respond.

"By the stars," he said, studying Northern with new appreciation. "Roma, you didn’t mention your friend was quite this bold."

"I didn’t know he was quite this bold," Roma admitted, looking at Northern like she was seeing him for the first time.

The King circled Northern slowly, evaluating. Northern stood still, unbothered by the scrutiny. He’d been assessed by far worse than kings. By things that didn’t laugh or make deals—things that simply killed what they found wanting.

"You remind me of someone," the King said finally. "Someone who came to this throne room years ago and made similar claims. Similar threats, even." He smiled, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. "They were telling the truth too."

He stopped in front of Northern, close enough that most people would have felt intimidated by his size and presence. The man was tall, broad-shouldered, built like someone who’d earned his throne through more than just birthright.

Northern didn’t step back.

"You want your people back. Fine. But first, you’ll demonstrate."

Northern’s eyes narrowed. "Demonstrate?"

"Prove that you’re as capable as you claim." The King gestured broadly. "My daughter speaks highly of you. The Admiral here tells me you arrived in a vessel that should require a crew of hundreds. Your friends claim you fought Origins." He leaned forward slightly. "Show me something. Anything. Give me reason to believe that releasing dangerous entities into your custody is wise."

Northern was quiet for a long moment, considering.

’He’s not wrong to ask. From his perspective, I’m just a kid making wild claims.’

But he was also tired. And increasingly annoyed at having to justify himself repeatedly. Every kingdom, every authority figure, every person with power—they all wanted the same thing. Proof. Demonstrations. Tests.

As if what he’d survived wasn’t proof enough.

"What did you have in mind?" he asked finally.

The King smiled—and this time it reached his eyes, predatory and eager.

"A simple test. My best warrior against you. If you’re truly as strong as you claim, it should be trivial." He paused, something almost playful in his expression. "Unless, of course, you were exaggerating?"

Northern looked at the King. Then at Roma, who seemed caught between concern and curiosity. Then at his friends, who looked worried but not surprised—they knew him well enough to know what was coming.

"Fine," Northern said. "One condition though."

"Oh?"

"When I win, you release Abyss Tyrant and the doctor immediately. No more delays, no more questions, no more bureaucracy. We take them and leave."

The King’s smile widened. "And when you lose?"

"I won’t lose," Northern said with absolute certainty. "But if somehow I do, I’ll answer every question you have about Stelia in excruciating detail. Fair?"

The King extended his hand.

"Fair."

Northern shook it, noting the King’s grip was designed to test strength—firm, deliberate, the kind of squeeze meant to establish dominance. He didn’t bother competing. Just matched the pressure exactly, his expression unchanged. There was no point in playing games like this anymore. Not after everything.

The King’s eyes flickered with something that might have been respect.

"Roma, clear the training grounds. Everyone else—" he addressed the room at large "—you’re about to see something interesting."

As people began moving, Northern caught Ellis’s worried look.

"It’ll be fine," Northern said quietly. "Probably won’t even take five minutes."

"That’s what worries me," Ellis muttered.

Roma approached as they began filing out of the throne room. "Northern, my father’s best warrior is my eldest brother. He just recently became an Ascendant, surpassing even Father."

Northern glanced at her. "And?"

"And you should know what you’re getting into."

"I appreciate the concern," Northern said, genuinely meaning it. "But Roma—I just killed an Origin. A newborn Ascendant is..." He searched for appropriate words. "Not really a concern."

Roma studied his face, looking for bravado or false confidence. She found neither—just the calm certainty of someone stating an obvious fact.

"What happened to you?" she asked softly. "In just a few weeks?"

Northern thought about Stelia. About Kryos and the Chaos Prince and everything he’d done. About the person he’d become—or perhaps the person he’d always been, finally allowed to stop pretending otherwise. The deaths. The choices. The weight of it all, settling into his bones like something that would never quite leave.

"I took your advice," he said finally. "Stopped pretending I wasn’t willing to do whatever it takes." He met her eyes briefly, then looked away. "Come on. Let’s get this over with."

They moved toward the training grounds, the King walking ahead with Roma, Northern following with his friends, and what seemed like half the palace guard trailing behind to witness.

’Just another demonstration,’ Northern thought. ’Just another person who needs convincing.’

He was getting very tired of convincing people.

Maybe after this one, they’d finally just let him leave.