I Can Copy And Evolve Talents - Chapter 880

Chapter 880: Concept Destroyer
Since meeting the Emperor of Luinngard, Northern had begun to develop certain theories. The evolution of his own talents to EX class further validated these hypotheses.

Yet gaps remained unfilled despite his theoretical explorations. This age simply hadn’t witnessed such terrifying concentrations of power as Luminaries.

And Paragons were scarce encounters.

His research and observations remained limited. His conclusions were fragile, vulnerable to collapse when confronted with hard evidence.

Still, this much he knew:

Monsters and Drifters shared three common elements: Talent, Soul, and True Name.

These three factors determined the trajectory of their soul’s evolution. Drifters likely evolved toward the stellar while monsters evolved away from it.

This suggested that as a Drifter’s soul evolved, they increasingly resembled their origin constellation.

The soul played a crucial role in this evolution, but once one reached Paragon status, that role likely became too expansive and inefficient. At that point, one probably needed to discover their relationship with the world—a connection closely tied to how their talent related to their true name.

True names had remained the most elusive puzzle for centuries. Many scholarly Drifters had invested their efforts, yet few achieved meaningful progress. Those few were either lost to history or their knowledge jealously guarded by higher authorities determined to keep such secrets.

This was partly why Northern hadn’t finished with the Academy library.

But coming to Lithia had helped fill gaps in his understanding. Meeting Paragon Raizel had confirmed several of his theories.

And now, witnessing the monster’s desperate transformation further validated his thinking—revealing the power that lay beyond Essence Manifestation, the force that a Luminary likely commanded.

And perhaps, the key to becoming a Luminary… to making the progression slightly more accessible.

Something rose from the ground, it was like a cloud of dark ashes, spreading…

It was a silhouette without body.

A will without anchor.

A flame that did not flicker but watched.

Not fire. Not energy. A concept in and of itself.

The Abysmal Belial, in its final gasp, had invoked a forbidden instinct locked deep in its monstrous core. A height of power that not every Belial could execute, despite every Belial having it buried in the cores of their soul.

It was now incorporeal—an echo of burning given form.

It did not move.

The world moved around it, as if carrying it.

Time seemed to warp in ripples. Shadows grew long and thin, curling toward it like mourners. The sky above them flickered between grey decay, as if even the heavens were unsure how to accommodate this new presence.

And then the voice came.

Not sound.

Not thought.

Just… presence.

The presence seemed to gain a voice that registered in the soul of everyone around… dread.

It was terrible, horrible and made the very soul of every one standing around it and watching writhe in an inexplicable agony.

The incorporeal Belial moved, not through space, but into it.

It phased through reality, flickering like a broken reflection. Trees wilted in its wake. The wind died. Buildings nearby lost their third dimension—flattened into drawings, impressions of what they once were.

It surged toward Nebulous Lord.

No body.

Just death.

But Nebulous Lord stood firm.

Unmoving and unbothered.

The burn around him did not recede—it flared.

His Manifestation ignited, wrapping the battlefield in a crucible of infinite suffering. The incorporeal flame wavered. For the first time, it hesitated.

And Nebulous Lord moved.

He didn’t dodge.

He entered it.

Walked directly into the heart of the incorporeal form.

Everything around them halted.

A pause.

A deep, awful quiet.

Then—

He screamed.

But not in pain.

In rejection.

Nebulous Lord’s body glowed from within—white-hot cracks splitting across his charred skin. His wings opened fully, skeletal frames illuminated with searing intensity. Flames exploded outward from his body—not outwardly destructive, but internally consuming.

He wasn’t attacking the Belial’s shell.

He was burning its concept.

Its right to exist.

The incorporeal flame thrashed.

Time buckled.

Space hiccupped.

Reality twisted, unable to decide if the Belial was alive or dead or merely memory.

But Nebulous Lord held it.

Fists clenched.

Eyes white.

He forced it back into form—ripping its essence from the incorporeal veil, dragging it, reshaping it, making it tangible.

And then—he crushed it again.

One hand on its half-manifested skull, the other driving into its chest, Nebulous Lord imploded the Abysmal Belial’s core.

Not just the body.

But its very attempt to grasp a new height of power.

That will.

That pushed it onto a new form of self acknowledgment, the desperate will that became a concept and threatened everyone.

It screamed—the cry of a thing denied escape. Its incorporeal form fractured into slivers of darkness and orange light, like shards of shattered will, and scattered into the smog.

Gone.

Dead.

Nebulous Lord exhaled.

And the battlefield answered.

The burning paused.

Then faded.

The sky lost its ember hue, returning black.

The earth, still cracked, no longer hissed.

Silence fell again.

But this time—it was peace.

Northern finally touched down.

He walked slowly toward the center of the battlefield, eyes locked on Nebulous Lord.

The void monster was slowly changing, reverting form, its body hissed with black smoke, as the wings melted into vapor and his charred skin subtly shifted color.

A pale smile appeared on Northern’s face.

If he understood what Nebulous Lord just did.

‘He defeated a Belial. An Abysmal Belial… that means…’

As if to respond to his next stream of thoughts, Nebulous Lord crouched down and grabbed the corpse of the creature then he used his lustrous black claws to rip its flesh, a line tore open on its face, revealing sharp shark-like teeth.

Nebulous Lord began to eat the Abysmal Belial.

Northern watched with a pale look on his face, the look got even paler as the seconds crawled by.

Eventually, Nebulous Lord stopped and slowly began to claw at the ground, soundlessly writhing in pain.

The poor creature, kneeling down, crushed the ground as it tried to resist the harrowing thing razing through his soul and changing it with crude intensity.

Northern continued to stare, his pale smile had become a slight frown.

‘…don’t tell me…’

Then he saw:

[Congratulations]

[Void Monster: Nebulous Lord, is evolving to a new rank]

Northern’s eyes widened.

‘Hell no…’