I Can Copy And Evolve Talents - Chapter 374

Chapter 374: The Disaster That Was Wrought In Sloria [Part 5]
The scenery darkened quickly; lusterless black flames with a vicious and unforgiving nature ignited around Northern and surged forth like night wraiths.

Painting the environment with guttural screams and ambient marks of destruction.

Northern did not mind the noise; they were music to his ears.

He pitied them really; if at least they had decided to join Raven… maybe… just maybe they could have been spared.

Black flame is an easy way for him to kill people without feeling like he killed people.

Having the vicious and unending flame burn them till they were nothing still felt better than directly stabbing them with his sword.

Although that did not mean it had any less effect in promoting his proficiency with the Void.

Sadly, Northern did not seem to even be caring about that anymore.

He nonchalantly walked amidst the flames like an emissary of its essence, deaf-eared to the screams and cries of agony as the flames danced around.

He inspected all their faces as they burned, using Chaos Eyes to observe beyond the obvious.

But none of them fit the image of the man that fought Fluffy and Night Terror. He, after all, had seen it in Night Terror’s memory.

That was the person that was in charge of subduing Lotheliwan stronghold.

The same guy that burnt his mansion.

Northern was dying to find him.

Meanwhile, Raven and Afkon were locked in a blurring dance of metal against flesh.

Raven’s blade sang through the air, each strike laced with a frightening and crude passion for blood.

Yet, Afkon remained unfazed, his bare hands effortlessly deflecting her attacks as if they were mere annoyances.

He was also smiling at her, not even shifting a leg despite how she dove in and out of his space to exert more force and pressure.

“You’ve improved, little bird,” Afkon taunted, his smile never wavering. “But you’re still flapping your wings in a storm you can’t comprehend.”

Raven frowned as she landed back,

“Don’t you dare call me that…”

A corner of Afkon’s lips curled,

“What? You despise the days where you pretended to be my wife? I actually thought you enjoyed it. You were so good at it you had me convinced that you loved me.”

He raised a brow, “Are you sure you didn’t?”

Raven gritted her teeth, refusing to let his words affect her concentration.

“Do you realize I am seventeen and you are what again? Twenty-six?”

Afkon raised his brows shamelessly,

“Age does not matter; you have a hole in between your legs and two balls pointing out of your chest. That is all that matters.”

“Bastard.”

She dashed forward and feinted left, then spun right, her sword arcing towards Afkon’s exposed neck.

But once again, his hand was there, catching the blade between his thumb and forefinger.

“Predictable,” he sighed, disappointment lacing his voice.

With a flick of his wrist, he sent Raven stumbling backward.

She regained her footing quickly, her eyes narrowing as she reassessed her opponent.

Afkon’s casual demeanor belied his incredible strength and speed. She needed a new approach… and she had only one.

One she despised using.

Afkon meanwhile stepped forward, moving his hands in guiding gestures with his words.

“If you think you can defeat me, Raven, you are very wrong. No one in this Desolation can defeat me, not even your aunty, Helena can dare.”

Raven landed afar again and swirled both her swords in arcs, pushing her legs slightly forward and her upper body a little bit bent.

She looked like she was about to leap very high.

But instead, she went very low.

Her body became a blur of white as she flashed across the distance between them.

Afkon in the heat of that moment frowned and threw one hand forward.

This time he didn’t just block with his hand. A black matter, kite-shaped, occupied the space in front of him—where Raven had directly struck.

She grinned mockingly, “Finally getting wary of me? Dirty king?”

He stared at her, his eyes gleaming with barely noticeable specters of angst.

“There it is,” Raven said, a hint of satisfaction in her voice. “The realization that you’re not invincible.”

Afkon’s smile returned, but this time it held an edge of respect.

“Perhaps, I underestimated you, but you are wrong little bird. You cannot even scratch me. Making me use this, my ability, is the best you can do. Don’t expect more of yourself. Let’s see how well you fly when the wind picks up.”

With that, Afkon’s movements shifted.

Where before he had been content to defend, now he launched into a series of lightning-fast strikes.

His hands moved with inhuman speed, each blow carrying enough force to shatter bone.

Raven found herself on the defensive, her sword a silver blur as she desperately parried Afkon’s attacks.

She could feel the air displacement from his near-misses, each one a reminder of how close she was to defeat.

The two continued for a couple of minutes, their battle becoming more intense and difficult to follow.

Afkon’s hands were fast; they seemed like they were more than just two, and Raven’s hands were barely struggling to keep up, barely deflecting with strikes.

Not to say that her fatigue was beginning to build up.

She had come here straight after fighting a single digit Knight of Luinngard Empire.

Not to say there were planetary distances between the stamina of an Ascendant and a Savant.

The latter trying to contend with the former was bound to even wear the latter out quickly than usual.

Raven was exerting herself more than usual, and she did not know it, and her fatigue build-up was crazily rising. She found herself pushed to her limits.

Afkon’s relentless assault had her on the back foot, each block sending shockwaves through her arms.

“Tired already?” Afkon taunted, his fist grazing Raven’s cheek as she narrowly dodged.

Raven didn’t waste breath on a reply.

She knew Afkon was trying to bait her into a mistake.

Instead, she focused on her breathing, on the flow of essence through her body. She looked for one chance to turn the tide.

She was waiting for him to just make one single mistake.

As Afkon’s next strike came in, Raven didn’t block.

Instead, she let the blow graze her shoulder, using the momentum to spin inside Afkon’s guard. Her sword flashed up, aiming for his heart.

For a split second, surprise registered on Afkon’s face.

Then, impossibly fast, his hand clamped down on Raven’s wrist, stopping the blade mere inches from his chest.

“Clever,” he admitted, genuine admiration in his voice. “But not clever enough.”

With a twist, he wrenched the sword from Raven’s grasp, sending it clattering to the ground.

His other hand shot out, slapping off the other sword as it pierced towards him and gripping her throat, lifting her off her feet.

Raven struggled, her feet kicking uselessly in the air as she clawed at Afkon’s iron grip.

Black spots danced at the edges of her vision as her lungs screamed for air.

“You fought well, little bird,” Afkon said, almost sadly. “But this is where your flight ends.”

Just as Raven’s consciousness began to fade, a wave of intense heat washed over them both.

Afkon’s head snapped around, his eyes widening at the sight before him.

Northern stood at the edge of the battlefield, the black flames swirling around him like a living cloak.

In one hand, he held the charred remains of someone that had dared to fight him.

His eyes, blazing with the power of Chaos, locked onto Afkon.

“Let. Her. Go.” Each word was punctuated by a surge in the black flames.