I Can Copy And Evolve Talents

Chapter 960: Wise Words

The answer was simple enough. Over time, the pressure was bound to keep building, and when it did, the lid would start cracking—splintering in places, spilling wide open. In the end, the force would get to a point too great to contain and would tear it apart entirely.

If Northern had followed Kollʼs explanation correctly, it meant Ulʼs efforts to preserve Tra-el were, paradoxically, accelerating its ruin.

Worse, she was leaving her denizens defenseless. The very rifts that should be strengthening humanity, she was shielding them from. And when the moment came where she could no longer contain them, the world would erupt—rifts bursting across the land, and humanity would plunge into another era of devastation, one where only a few could still stand and fight.

ʼ...ah.ʼ

Northern didnʼt know what to say. Kollʼs logic held weight—too much, perhaps.

But that still didnʼt explain the leap to unleashing the Origin of Chaos on their world. And more than that, why in all the fragments of existence had that quiddity been sealed here?

He hesitated for a moment before finally speaking. His voice was perpetually hoarse, but now it scraped out of him—dry, coarse, almost grating.

”Fine. Letʼs say Ul is dragging her world toward destruction. Overprotective parents do more harm than good—Iʼm living proof of that. But Ulʼs failure is her own. Whatʼs it to you? How does that justify your asinine plan to drop your Origin into our world? And why the hell was he even sealed here—in our fragment of reality—not yours?!”

Koll was silent for a breath, then slowly began to grin. It was the kind of grin that grew wider the longer it lingered—and the more it stretched, the more it unsettled Northern.

He was getting a bad feeling.

”You donʼt know…”

Northernʼs brow furrowed.

”...donʼt know what?”

A thunderous shockwave rippled from somewhere behind them. It cracked through the air with a distant roar, snapping Kollʼs attention for a moment. His expression darkened—but Northern didnʼt flinch. He didnʼt even glance back.

Koll turned his eyes back to him.

”Well. Iʼm curious how you managed to get a relic of the first human civilization to serve you.”

Northern shrugged, casual.

”Thereʼs a little trick to it. Maybe Iʼll teach you… if Iʼm in the mood.”

Koll regarded him with a stern, unreadable look before exhaling deeply. Then he spoke again, calm and resolute.

”I have much to do. Far too much. It would be unwise to waste my time on you here. I have Dante exactly where I need him. The conquest of the Central Plains will continue. Now that destruction of this scale has happened—Burning Storm is dead—the Central Plains wonʼt be able to ignore it any longer. The citadels will stir. The nations will rise. The Academy will fall. And the final phase of conquest will begin.”

He slowly brought his hand over his face, dragging it downward. As he did, his form began to dissolve, vanishing into the air like mist unraveling under sunlight. Yet his voice lingered, drifting on the wind.

”...and we shall meet again, dear Northern. Weʼll finish this conversation—and end our brutal fates.”

And with that, he was gone.

Northern stood in silence, eyes fixed on the empty space where Koll had vanished. Slowly, he scratched his temple, an incredulous expression sliding onto his face.

”This bastard just dodged my question, didnʼt he?”

A rustle of wind came with Bairan landing behind him. He paused, exhaled once, then resumed his usual calm, unhurried gait as he approached Northern.

He bowed with quiet reverence.

”Youʼve returned… and I see youʼve grown even stronger.”

Northern glanced back over his shoulder, a weary breath slipping from his lips.

”I have… but this time, I didnʼt enjoy it.”

Bairan didnʼt reply at first. When he did, his voice carried a gentle lilt, almost like he was speaking to someone nursing a wound.

”Iʼm sure he would be grateful.”

Northern shifted his gaze to the lone building that remained amid the desolation.

The Unification Complex.

That was where Burning Stormʼs wife and father were held. And it seemed the fallen warrior had left one final message for them.

Northernʼs chest tightened. The weight of it felt too much to carry.

ʼI donʼt have to if I donʼt want to…ʼ

But they deserved the message… they needed it.

He stood there, letting the thought linger before it gently settled.

ʼWhy am I even stressing... I have Bairan.ʼ

A faint grin curled onto his lips as he turned to his summon.

”Bairan—”

”I refuse.”

”Uhh? You donʼt even know what I was going to ask.”

”I donʼt need to. Itʼs written all over your face. You want to avoid seeing his family… because it makes you uncomfortable.”

Northern looked away, as if caught in the act.

”Itʼs not always about you, Master. I know how introverted you are, how much you like to stay in your own corner, but you canʼt hide there forever. Not when it matters. You cared for him—anyone could see that. So the least you can do is honor him properly. Donʼt run from that too.”

Northern lowered his head. His voice, when it came, was quieter.

”You donʼt understand. All my life… not just this one—Iʼve never faced something like this. Iʼve lived sheltered, disconnected. Iʼve barely been to a funeral, let alone consoled the grieving. I wouldnʼt even know what to say.”

”Then say nothing. Just be there. Your past life is behind you. Maybe your awkwardness and cluelessness is what gave you this second chance—to learn, to grow, to make things right. You, of all people, understand what change really means. You are a Demon of Change. And change is never easy—but itʼs always worth it.”

Northern stared at Bairan, a flicker of vexation glinting in his eyes. He let out a sharp exhale.

”Why did I have to summon a sagacious Sword King with a habit of lecturing me?”

Bairan grinned.

”Count yourself the luckiest Lord in the universe.”

Northern smirked faintly and stepped past him.

ʼIndeed I am…ʼ

He made his way back to Burning Stormʼs charred corpse. The body, though burned, was still recognizable. Maroon hair clung to the scorched flesh, and parts of his lower garments remained—torn, but intact.

Northern bent down, lifting the body gently. The weight was more than physical.

He walked toward the entrance of the Unification Complex.

Once, this place had a pristine garden in front of it, with a serene fountain that danced under the sun. Now, it was a ruin—its beauty devoured by battle. The tiled ground was gone, the basin of the fountain erased. The land bore scars—patchwork craters, fragmented stone steps, cracks like claw marks carved by fate itself.

Northern knelt and laid the fallen warrior down with quiet care. Then he slipped off the white coat heʼd worn under the guise of the White Mercenary, draping it over Burning Stormʼs body like a shroud. Beneath it, he was left in a simple armless undergarment, the air brushing over skin chilled by ash and memory.

He turned his eyes to the building.

Faintly—almost too faint to trust—he heard something.

A soft, trembling sound, wavering through the broken air.

ʼ...a baby?ʼ