I Can Copy And Evolve Talents - Chapter 43

Warfront [part 2]
Within seconds of the collision, the battlefield lay shrouded in a thick fog of dread, the air heavy with the stench of blood.

The ground has turned into a nightmarish landscape of mud and gore, trembling beneath the weight of countless monstrous forms locked in a brutal struggle.

Amidst the chaos, towering above the rest, two distinct creatures clashed with savage ferocity, their roars echoing across the desolate expanse.

Razor-sharp claws tore through flesh and bone, leaving a trail of mutilated corpses in their wake. The ground trembled with each thunderous footstep as if the earth itself groaned in agony beneath the onslaught.

It had only been a short time, not even a minute, yet so many gruesome sights littered the ground; bodies fell in great numbers, and the clashes rang viciously through the air.

From every side, every angle, monsters ferociously bared their fangs and wielded crude, inhuman swords, hacking and slashing at one another.

Northern had never been on a battlefield before— of course, he was unaware of its cruelty, the urgency that every second, every minute held.

And for someone as thoughtful as him, wasting even a second was dire.

Before he could react, a voracious monster leaped over him, landing a precise cut on his back. As he belatedly noticed, Northern tried to dodge by running forward, but another monster lunged its claws from below, blocking his path.

He had to sacrifice either his front or his back—

But there was no time to make a decision. Everything he did had to be instinctual, and for someone like him who had never been on a battlefield, it was a wicked and unfair situation.

As Northern rushed forward, he instinctively shot his onyx blade to block the oncoming claw, and a figure appeared behind him, raising a vicious ax over his head. The clash of the figure’s ax with the monster reverberated through the air.

The figure proved superior in strength, though, tossing off the monster and swinging its ax horizontally, cleanly severing the creature’s head.

By that time, Northern had plunged his blade into the jaw of the monster he was facing.

He turned back, his face contorting into an irritated frown.

“What the hell… this bastard protected me?”

His angel of death stared at him indifferently, spinning its ax gruesomely and burying it into the throat of the monster that had appeared behind him while maintaining a dark, indifferent gaze towards Northern.

‘This bastard… why do I feel like he’s challenging me?’

Northern created an arc with his sword, tearing through the torso of the beast that suddenly threw itself at him.

<You have killed a Disaster Beast: Razorlf>

<You have gained an item>

[You have slain a Disaster Beast: Razorlf]

[You have gained +3 talent fragments]

“…maybe it’s because of the war setting. I can’t believe I’m easily killing a disaster beast.”

Of course, these ones were much weaker than the Black Ruger that he and Shin had fought back in the forest.

But being able to defeat a beast-ranked monster was a feat that Northern, as a walker, should not be capable of.

However, it couldn’t be denied that this was a battlefield— a different environment from a one-on-one battle.

The muscle memories of the clone also played a significant role in Northern’s growth.

Speaking about the clone…

Northern’s eyes stared ahead with unwavering focus, drops of sweat crawling down his pale skin as he blocked, dodged, and shot forward with struggles.

‘I can’t rely on my clone every time… I also need to face this.’

With a large portion of his talent fragments depleted, Northern’s strength had diminished significantly. It was no different from before he became awakened.

Although he could move well, thanks to years of ceaseless foundational training with Shin and the clone’s recent combat with the Friggian Walker, he still lacked the swiftness needed to execute his moves with precision and accuracy.

Many times, when he faltered, Mr. Fluffy would impede his foe’s movement by arrogantly biting their legs with its sharp fangs.

Then Northern would cut through the critter, harvesting fragment talents.

Northern’s heart pounded in his chest as he weaved through the throngs of monstrous adversaries.

Each movement was fueled by an instinct for survival, his onyx blade slicing through the air with a desperate grace.

The monsters closed in on him from all directions, their snarls and growls reverberating in his ears.

He ducked and dodged, narrowly evading a set of razor-sharp claws that swiped at his face. The monsters’ movements were swift and unpredictable, a chaotic dance of death.

Northern slid beneath it, plunged his sword upward, and pierced through its jaw. The dark blade protruding above it.

With the passing seconds, fatigue piled up in Northern’s muscles, likewise surges of adrenaline coursed through his veins, sharpening his senses with every passing minute.

He could feel the heat of their breath on his skin, the earthy smell of their sweat mixing with the metallic tang of blood.

It was a twisted nightmare, where every step could be his last— faced with such a horror, Northern’s focus was frightening.

His eyes did not waver from his enemy, and his strike was void of unnecessary movements.

It was straight to the point. He either blocked or took advantage of even the littlest of openings, cleaving through the guts of the monster.

His hands were tightly gripping the blade, each stroke was strenuous and weighed on his muscles but he couldn’t stop–

Not once did they stop moving.

As he shot forward from a crouch and stabbed the heart of the monster faster than it could reach for a swing, an artistic spray of crimson blood covered both him and the dying beast.

He blatantly ignored the two matter-of-fact voices that overlapped each other yet again.

As another monster lunged into his field of vision, catching him by surprise, Northern stumbled but managed to hoist a clumsy swing that missed its mark.

The monster barrelled closer, its crude claws thirsty for blood, and Northern tripped over fallen debris, barely catching his balance before a sharp claw whizzed past his throat.

The near miss etched details into his mind— the exact position to hold his sword, how much to turn his torso to put enough force behind the blow.

With each passing minute, his movements grew sharper.

A beast charged with its jaws open wide. Northern pivoted, steel singing as it sliced through fur and flesh. Red blood sprayed his face, and the red cuts on his pale skin exuded vapor as they closed.

The headless monster collapsed, its convulsing mass still snaring Northern’s ankles. He hacked ruthlessly at it until its grip loosened. Two more of them bounded forward to take its place.

The young warrior was a whirlwind— ducking, dodging, and blade singing as it collided with each scythe-like claw.

A misstep sent him reeling, the sweep of nails rending fabric and skin. Blood blossomed across the Eternal Twilight. Fiery pain drowned his senses. He choked down cries clawing up his throat.

There was no time for weakness here!

The monsters, smelling fresh blood, moved in for the kill.

Northern glared at them through sweat-stung eyes, chest heaving, grip tightening on his sword which was now drenched with blood and gore. Even though it looked like he was cornered, he refused to give in to the temptation of summoning his clone to settle this for him.

Moreso, these monsters must never know he was s capable of creating a clone. Most especially Night Terror…

Northern grinned at the thought of Night Terror, ‘You’ll play a huge role in laying waste to that bastard for me. So no, I’m not going to let him know my hidden card’.

A familiar dark figure plowed through the melee toward him.

Glimpses of a whirling ax and gouts of blood flashed in Northern’s periphery vision as his angel of death left behind a path of death with elegant nonchalance.

Northern grinned and leaped to action as well, the onyx blade ringing in harmony. He matched the hideous monster’s ruthless skill blow for blow, keeping his eyes on the monster’s movement and, at the same time, on his enemy.

His focus at that point was scary, it was like he was in the zone. Even though he was sweating heavily, a testament to how hard trying to catch up with the monster was, Northern’s focus did not shift, it only became more frightening.