I Can Copy And Evolve Talents

Chapter 705: The Right Attitude To Growth

Northern exhaled slowly, his grip tightening on the Illusion Sword.

His eyes swept over the approaching forms, each one bearing the same grotesque features as the creature he had just slain—elongated limbs, jagged claws, and crimson veins pulsing with ominous energy.

There were at least a dozen of them, their crimson eyes gleaming hungrily in the dim, frost-covered cavern. The air grew heavier with each step they took, the oppressive aura of primal darkness returning, more potent than before.

’I really did jinx it.’

A small frown slowly settled upon his face.

Of course, Northern was not scared of fighting the monsters; he had more than enough resources to dispose of all of them without having to lift a finger.

But that was the thing. That right there was the problem—he had more than enough summons now to destroy all of them.

But would it be right doing so? Was it okay to depend on those summons for battle?

Where then was his own room for growth? For example, there was an experience he would gain from fighting these monsters that he probably wouldn’t gain elsewhere. Was it okay to lose that experience?

With all the questions slowly mounting upon his mind, Northern paused for a moment.

’What the hell...?’

In that moment, he realized a terrifying truth. While many people right now would be seeking a path to survival, would be trying to escape, he was busy wondering if asking his summons to fight was the right thing to do.

He understood that it was only because he was stupendously strong that he could give room to thoughts like this.

Logically, there was nothing wrong with relying on his summons. They were extensions of his power, manifestations of his will, and in many cases, stronger than most adversaries he’d face.

That was the practical answer—the one any strategist would agree with. Why risk unnecessary injury or waste time when he could summon strong void entities to crush his enemies effortlessly?

But deep down, Northern felt a pang of dissatisfaction gnawing at him. Was he becoming complacent?

Growth wasn’t just about victory—it was about struggle, facing challenges head-on and emerging stronger, sharper, more capable.

Still, he couldn’t entirely dismiss the other side of the argument. The risks were real. In a world like Tra-el, plagued by rifts and monsters, survival wasn’t guaranteed, even for someone like him—especially for someone like him.

He knew that a single mistake, a moment of underestimating his opponent, could lead to disaster. Would pride in personal strength be worth the cost if it meant losing his life or someone else’s?

’Think clearly, Northern,’ he told himself, calming the storm of conflicting thoughts.

’There’s a balance to be found here. Relying on my summons when necessary doesn’t mean I’m weak. But avoiding challenges entirely because I can take an easier path... that’s dangerous.’

It wasn’t about refusing help or clinging to a stubborn ideal of personal strength. It was about ensuring that he didn’t stagnate. His summons were a part of him, yes, but they weren’t all of him. The world demanded evolution, and that included both his mind and his body.

With this in mind, Northern made a decision. He would fight these creatures on his own, not because he needed to prove something, but because he needed the experience.

He could learn more from this battle—the instincts, the reactions, the feel of combat and the extent to which he was forced to think out a solution. All of it contributed to his growth, and if he ever wanted to truly master himself, he couldn’t afford to lose these moments.

A low growl echoed from the nearest creature, snapping Northern back to the present. The horde of grotesque figures advanced steadily, their jagged claws scraping against the icy floor, creating a sound akin to glass being shattered repeatedly.

”Focus,” Northern muttered under his breath, steadying his stance. He loosened his grip on the Illusion Sword slightly, feeling the subtle hum of its energy ripple through his palm as he filled it with Chaos essence once more.

As the first creature lunged forward, Northern sidestepped with precision, his body moving in a blur. He slashed upward, the Illusion Sword carving through the air in a seamless arc.

The blade shimmered, leaving a faint, almost white afterimage-like trail, and before the creature could react, it was split cleanly in two. Crimson ichor sprayed across the ground, sizzling as it met the frozen surface.

Before he could take a breath, two more creatures flanked him, their claws poised to strike.

Northern’s mind whirred, instincts taking over as he bent low, narrowly dodging the swipes aimed at his head. He thrust his sword backward without looking, impaling one creature through its chest. With a twist of his wrist, he pulled the blade free and spun to meet the second attacker, delivering a swift, decisive slash across its neck.

The remaining monsters hesitated, momentarily unnerved by Northern’s efficiency. Despite their mindless hunger, something primal told them that this human was extremely dangerous!

Northern straightened, his breath forming misty clouds in the chilled air. His eyes scanned the creatures warily. For one, he knew that his effort might turn out to be useless, that they just might evolve with the attack. After all, they were in their initial form, just like the first form the last one had appeared in.

But for all of it, he had a perfect plan that would not waste his time. Thinking about dealing with them like this, enjoying every moment he swung his sword or just ending it—he hesitated for a bit.

In as much as he could have chosen to use an ability that would end this quickly, he had an arsenal of adaptable abilities he could use. He really just wanted to enjoy it.

The horde sensed his hesitation and charged in unison, their jagged limbs tearing through the air like razors.

Northern inhaled deeply, centering himself. Time seemed to slow as he tapped into the muscle memory from countless battles. His surroundings sharpened—the sound of claws against ice, the faint crackle of energy in the air, the steady beat of his heart.

With a burst of speed, he surged forward, meeting the horde head-on.

The blade of the Illusion Sword slowly faded from reality but still sliced through flesh and bone with surgical precision. Each strike was delivered with purpose, each movement calculated to conserve energy while maximizing damage.

Despite the chaos of the battle, Northern’s thoughts remained clear.

He analyzed every step, every slash, mentally noting areas where he could improve.

There was no wasted movement, no unnecessary flourish—only the raw, distilled essence of combat.

Minutes later, the cavern fell silent, save for the faint drip of ichor pooling on the icy floor.

Northern stood amidst the carnage, his breathing steady, the Illusion Sword gleaming faintly in the dim light, its blade returned.

Then all the fallen bodies began to explode one after the other.

Northern gripped the sword and readied himself for the real battle.