I Can Copy And Evolve Talents

Chapter 1417: Weave of Will

Despite the forlorn expression Pyrrhus wore, Northern felt no pity for him — not even a shred of it. Of course, everyone had their motives and were heralds of their own beliefs. He had never wished to be more understanding in that regard and had never sought to be understood himself.

Pyrrhus was silent for a moment, staring into the strange ghostly flame flickering in the cave.

Then his voice came forth.

"What will happen now? I’ll get taken as a war criminal?"

Northern chuckled.

"No, not quite..."

Pyrrhus’s brows rose, and he looked at Northern strangely.

"Not quite? If I may ask... why?"

Northern cleaned his ear with his pinky, making an irritated face at Pyrrhus.

"You’re awfully talkative. Turns out you had quite the charisma for the role you played in baiting Ryugan."

Pyrrhus looked confused for a moment, then his brows relaxed and a soft smile spread across his worn and torn face.

"Oh... that."

He said nothing afterward, only staring at Northern for a few moments. Meanwhile, Northern said to him,

"Did you at any point try to contact the person who sent you here?"

Pyrrhus’s eyes sharpened and a smile appeared on his face.

"You’re finally scared?"

Northern scrunched his face again in utter disgust. If it were not for the fact that he wanted to use Pyrrhus as a mousetrap, he would have slit his tongue off first. It seemed the young man wasn’t truly selling himself short; apparently, he wasn’t acting and was a really good talker.

’I wonder if that’s how they all are over there?’

He was curious about many things. After all, Reimgard was like a world of its own, secluded from the rest of the continent.

But this Pyrrhus wasn’t setting a good example at all, and his expectations were being washed away.

He sighed and shook his head.

"I’ll let you go... run back home."

Pyrrhus looked at him and glared.

"You’re wrong. I’m not a fool. There is no way you will ever let me go free."

Northern’s brows furrowed slightly and he regarded the nobleman seriously.

"Oh? And why do you say that? Do I look like a bloodthirsty tyrant to you?"

Pyrrhus chuckled lightly.

"It’s common ethics of war to slaughter your enemies or take them as prisoners. If you’re letting me go, it can only be for one reason."

His gaze tightened on Northern grimly.

"You wish to use me as a trap to lure someone out."

Northern stared at him blankly.

He did not expect that he wouldn’t be so obvious after all.

He let out a short-lived smile, his expression turning cold as he continued.

"It’s not exactly a secret, and regardless of whether you want to or not, you will do it."

He looked at Pyrrhus — really looked at him — and said blankly,

"You’re my puppet now, young man. And dying won’t be as easy as you expect it to be."

He shrugged and continued speaking, several weaves of thin silver lines flowing from his fingertips.

"You’re under my control. Your fate belongs to me — your soul, your will... they’re all mine. So if I want to meet my brother, you will help me meet him."

Pyrrhus’s eyes widened and then went pale. He stared at the almost invisible strings flowing from Northern’s fingertips.

Using a bit of [Fate’s Needle], Northern made a drastic adjustment to [Puppeteer’s Weave]. One allowed him to control people’s movements; the other allowed him to control their intentions, their wills, and their perceptions. He basically fed them whatever he wanted, and their reactions were directed toward it.

It meant that if Northern wanted, using [Puppeteer’s Weave], he could have simply made the Empire’s soldiers kill themselves. But that would have been boring. As much as it would have been fun to watch, it was not the main stage — he had other plans.

Now, tweaking it slightly, he was able to control Pyrrhus’s will in the same manner. It was just that controlling the will of one human was far more daunting than controlling that of hundreds of Arachne monsters.

It had, in fact, taken Northern a while to take full control of Pyrrhus and the men outside. That was why he had taken this long to appear.

And yes, Pyrrhus was still his own person and believed in what he believed in. In fact, he was willing to kill himself if it meant that Northern would not use him as bait, despite the fact that he had been used and thrown away like a useless pawn.

But the small cavity that hurt left in his mind was what Northern had used [Puppeteer’s Weave] to exploit.

Seeing nothing wrong with himself, Pyrrhus was finding it difficult to believe what Northern was saying.

He quickly grabbed his sword and was about to slit his throat. But he paused midway. Through it all, Northern continued to stare at him keenly and silently.

His gaze was ghastly and frightening in a cold, yet strangely harmless manner.

Pyrrhus stared at the sword in his hand. His eyes trembled. He could feel it building up inside him.

Resentment...

He slowly looked at Northern.

"What... what have you done to me?"

Northern pointed to himself in mild shock.

"You’re the one who resents the people who used you. How’s that my fault?"

He shook his head.

"Humans! They so conveniently dump blame as long as they get to walk away freely. They can blame anything!!"

Northern cast a repugnant glare at the man and stood up.

"We’ll see each other again when you manage to meet my brother."

Pyrrhus stared down at the flame and slowly watched it transition back to the mundane, dissatisfying color of ordinary fire.

He stared at his hands for a few seconds, then a small frown appeared on his face.

"No... he’s right. I must meet the Prince at all costs. I can’t afford to give up now. I can simply give him a signal. I’ve sent the message already. I can send another message. Wait, what’s wrong with me? It’s the Sixth Prince we’re talking about here. The Sixth Prince will change everything. He alone is enough to take the entirety of Ryugan. Yes, the Prince... what matters is my survival."

Pyrrhus steeled himself.

Of course, that resolve only happened because it was what Northern’s weave on his will convinced him to believe.