I Can Copy And Evolve Talents

Chapter 60: Reckoning Is Here

Northern scanned his surroundings, he wasn’t sure what was what anymore as he gazed down at his blood-stained hands.

’What am I even doing?’

His mind was foggy and unasked questions pushed him deeper into oblivion.

He gazed down from the heap of corpses as his fellow warriors chained what was left of their foes, condemning them to a life of slavery... as miners.

He had been like that too, once...

But, had he, though?

He had always been a general... a war general, one that fought only for the kingdom of Red Mines, heralding ruthless victories.

Hailed as a hero... by the monsters.

And yet nothing felt wrong about it.

His eyes dimmed, its living sparks disappearing. The blue hue of his pupils, dulling and fading. All that was left of him was emptiness.

He picked up the onyx blade and jumped down from the heap of corpses, walking behind the column of monsters that hurled away their captives with chains.

Mr Fluffy was behind him, almost reaching his waist. The little mutt was now a vicious gray wolf with eyes that seemed to embody the very entity of darkness.

Its canines were slowly curving and growing out of its maw, the rest of its sharp teeth, set in a perfect array.

Taking slow and somber steps behind its master, its eyes were lost and tired.

They crossed several landscapes, ignoring their crudeness, and soon they arrived at their home... the kingdom of Red Mine.

While the monsters jubilated with yet another massive, crab-looking monster, Northern walked up the tower and fell face down on his bed.

Slowly sinking into the embrace of sweet sleep... or death.

It was hard to tell the difference between the two states of unconsciousness these days.

Sometimes it was like he didn’t care.

He was losing himself and he didn’t seem to care... or perhaps he had even lost himself.

Who knew?

The days of war were far from over, and every time, Northern marched forward with no questions asked as he led the army to unmatched victory.

His passion for bloodshed only grew worse and nothing was able to satisfy it.

Killing seemed to be more and more unsatisfying... At times, it was even easy.

With each monster that fell under his sword, he gained strength, although he was oblivious to its level.

Northern had become far stronger than he had been when he initially entered the rift.

Several nights passed, several battles were won, and several souls were extinguished, yet Northern still managed to live through it all.

Proving himself to be an ultimate killing machine.

On a particular night after a long war with the muscular creatures that happened to be the strongest of the three races of monsters they usually faced, Northern sat on his bed, lost in his thoughts.

His eyes seemed glued to the curtains on the window even though he was staring at nothing in particular.

His pale skin was smeared with fresh blood and scars that were in the process of healing. His eyes were even more lifeless than ever before.

Letting out a tired sigh, Northern gently dropped the Mortal Blade beside him and plopped to the bed, staring at the broken ceiling.

He stared at it for a long time... he couldn’t tell what he was looking at, but there was a torn portrait there— It was of a blonde lady, with sea blue eyes.

A part of their face was ripped off, but he could tell from the little that was left, the sparkling pieces of jewelry that adorned her features, her radiant smile, and her glamorous dress, that she was undoubtedly a princess or a queen.

’But, what was a princess? What was a queen?’

Thinking was becoming really hard for Northern.

It seemed that he had become a monster for the most part... even his mannerisms, which were the little bit of sanity he managed to hold onto, looked like they would soon be lost too.

In this nightmare, lost and alone, Northern had no one to beckon to... no one to find him.

His eyes, which felt very heavy, began to close... and soon, he was asleep again.

Shrouded in a cold darkness, he heard a distant voice call a strange name:

”North...”

”North...”

No matter how much the voice called out, the embrace of the darkness was too overwhelming to break free from.

Unable to recognize his own name... or his mother’s voice, Northern slept peacefully in the comfort offered to him by a serene and ruthless madness.

His eyes snapped open as a searing pain lanced through his leg. He jolted upright, eyes widening at the sight of a polearm impaling his right thigh.

His gaze traveled up the shaft to the vicious creature gripping it— a familiar terror... that was unfamiliar at the same time.

Four malevolent eyes set in a fur-matted visage burned with cold madness. Tightly coiled muscles rippled beneath the fur, framing the intense, powerful form of a horror Northern knew all too well, albeit long forgotten.

His brows furrowed, shadows veiling his expression—this was probably the most emotion he had shown in ages.

With a callous glare, the vicious Terror wrenched the polearm free, creating a crimson shower on Northern’s bed.

As it drove the spear down again, Northern instinctively rolled away, hitting the ground with a pained grunt.

He pushed upright, favoring his left leg as agony lanced through the right.

Northern’s pale, sweat-beaded face hardened as he stared at the terror in tense silence.

The cloying scent of his own blood mingled with the chilly breeze fluttering the curtains, filled the chamber with unpleasantness.

His sword lay at the creature’s feet, leaving him unarmed and too lost to summon a fresh weapon or know that he was meant to summon one.

After all, the brutal spirit of war had driven him to utter madness, until he became lost in the darkness of his own soul.

The vicious Terror closed the distance in a single, fluid step and hurled the spear with frightening speed.

Northern’s eyes flew wide, but he managed to twist to the side and it got stuck in the wall behind him.

He leaped over the bed, rolling to the position the Terror had stood moments before.

Slowly, Northern bent and retrieved his sword, leveling the blade as his eyes burned with bloodlust.

Both vicious creatures forged by the wicked flames of war glared coldly at each other. The terror wrenched his spear out of the wall and suddenly, it looked like it had an evil grin on its horrible face.

Northern’s brow twitched and his eyes darted to the entrance as another similar creature stomped into his room.