I Can Copy And Evolve Talents

Chapter 1407: Chronicles of the Great Hero of the Empire

Northern had not had a wink of sleep since he gained the new talent from Ultron. The talent made crafting the easiest it had ever been, though of course, his knowledge still played a big role in all of it.

All of his clones were busy scavenging the carcasses of monsters that the echoes had slaughtered during the war. Northern himself didn’t know how long he’d been at this, but one thing was certain: he had created over a hundred armors and weapons.

He wasn’t creating set items. He was simply getting used to the ability. He needed to build the experience as fast as possible, which was why he kept producing armors he had no intention of keeping.

The problem, however, was who exactly would call these armors useless.

Piles of composed metals littered the ground around him. Some carried a dark lusterless sheen, pale and cold to the touch. Others looked more malevolent than the Dreadreaver itself, bleeding crimson energy that curled through the air like something alive.

Speaking of the Dreadreaver, Northern considered it a prototype. He looked forward to fighting the real thing and realizing its true craftsmanship. He was also very curious about the true creator of that malevolent piece.

In general, he was looking forward to when his discord with the Empire reached its height. This version of him saw no reason to leave the pit. So he didn’t. For days.

Another Northern, however, was on the roof of the Tempest Spire.

There was a man standing before him. The barbarian that Aelon had captured.

The man stood opposite Northern, who leaned on the parapet of the tower’s roof, staring down at the vast dark fog beneath with a small smile on his face.

The barbarian stood there, arms at his sides, thinking.

’Who is he? Why did he bring me up here without even chaining me...’

At first, he was confused. Northern had his back to him, leaning on the stone and enjoying the night breeze as though he’d forgotten the barbarian existed.

His eyes narrowed with caution and suspicion.

’This is careless, that’s what this is. Do they know who I am, or are they simply underestimating me?’

The thought of it was infuriating. He might be called a barbarian, but he was the same man who had tussled with the waves of the open seas, who had wrestled hideous sea serpents and handcuffed storms, imprisoning tides and making them bow to his will.

He was a Paragon that bowed to no one. Absolutely no one. Even the Great Emperor had recognized his valorous spirit and made a deal with him rather than try to command him. He was that powerful.

’The other one might’ve caught me by surprise, but this is just pure carelessness. I’d be a fool not to take advantage of it.’

He declared it in his mind, and his hand fisted with resolve.

Northern chose the exact moment to yawn, making the man shudder slightly.

"Oh good stars, I don’t even know the last time I had a proper sleep."

He stared at the alignment of the stars that looked like they were all queued up, heading somewhere beyond the skies.

"I wonder, how is night usually like in the Empire?"

The barbarian’s eyes were still narrowed, but he released his fisted hand and stepped forward. He placed his hands on the parapet, standing next to Northern.

Northern glanced at him with a smile that hovered somewhere between warm and cold. Honestly, it was tough to tell which one it was.

The barbarian gazed deep into the sky.

"Some days... it’s warm, filled with bright lights. Some days, it’s cold. I think I can hear the ghosts of people pestering me."

Northern’s face scrunched into a confused frown.

"Ghosts? That’s strange."

The man turned to him and smiled softly.

"I’ve not been a very good man, you see."

The barbarian paused.

He couldn’t figure out what was wrong, but he knew something was wrong. A coldness that had nothing to do with the night air. He slowly lowered his head.

His eyes widened with horror.

His hands. The ones that had been resting on the parapet. They were gone.

The moment he noticed, blood splashed outward in furious spurts.

He staggered back, terror twisting his face.

"Y-y-you... h-h-oww..."

His eyes had been on the white-haired boy the entire time. Not once had he seen him move. He was sure he had not seen a flicker of movement, he hadn’t even seen a blur!

To every sense the barbarian possessed, the boy had never left that parapet.

’What? That’s impossible.’

With Aelon, he had at least felt something. A warning that was like a prickle along his senses before the strike landed. That one had absurd speed, yes, but his instincts had registered it.

With this... there was nothing. No warning, no sensation. He hadn’t even known his hands were gone until he looked down.

But... why?

Why cut his hands?

Northern tilted his head with a small cold smile.

"You see, I’m a bit sentimental about my belongings..."

His smile faded. A dark grimace took its place.

"Who gave you the permission to touch?"

The grimace deepened.

"No, who even gave you the permission to walk?"

He raised his chin, lowering a condescending gaze on the man.

"You take broken chains for a sign of freedom? Carelessness before my presence?"

The barbarian shook. Not from fear. Not from despair. His instincts knew those, could name them, could fight them. This had no form. It was something indistinguishable, something his body could not categorize, and it rattled him far deeper than death ever could.

’Have we gone to stir a demon’s nest? What in the world is he? No... I must warn Pyrrhus. I must warn him at all cost. This thing... we cannot afford to be in conflict with him.’

In one desperate, final attempt to flee and become a hero for the Empire, the barbarian released his Essence Manifestation.