I Can Copy And Evolve Talents

Chapter 781: Reason

A tense silence continued to press upon the air, unyielding, even as the turmoil had seemingly settled. The Beast of Burden galloped forward, its strides measured and heavy, each hoofbeat echoing against the cold earth.

They were closer to the forest’s edge than ever before. The boundary loomed ahead, no longer a distant threshold but an inevitability, waiting to be breached—by the relentless pace of their powerful mount and the clawing light of Twilight rising subtly beyond the horizon.

Northern, however, gave no heed to the quiet beauty unraveling before them. His arms rested behind his head, eyes closed, his entire posture exuding an air of disinterest.

Seemingly frustrated.

But his frustration ran deeper than what had transpired with the travelers. Deeper than Roma’s hesitant, uncertain gaze upon him.

Even after noticing him, Roma had hesitated to approach, lingering in her indecision. She spent long, silent minutes debating with herself, weaving together unnecessary justifications—why she should, why it didn’t matter, why it was simply a conversation and nothing more.

Eventually, she relented.

She stepped forward, her movements deliberate yet cautious, and settled gently onto the nearest crate. Close, but not too close.

Northern’s eyelids flickered open briefly, his gaze grazing over her before shutting once more, dismissing her presence.

The girl sat in silence for a while, her fingers laced together, the weight of unspoken words pressing against her tongue. Then, hesitantly, she asked,

”So... how did the battle go? Are you... uhm, okay?”

Her words met only the cold embrace of silence. The emptiness stretched between them, dragging long enough for her to second-guess her decision. She was about to pull away when his voice finally rolled forward—steady, even, detached.

”Yes. I’m fine... Can’t say the same for the damn monster, though.”

A pause. Brief. Then, the faintest sound of lips smacking together, as if tasting an unfinished thought.

”...but it got away.”

The revelation caught Roma off guard, her eyes widening.

”Wow... It must have been a really strong creature, then?”

Northern’s brows furrowed slightly as he opened his eyes, pinning her with a look.

”Indeed, it was. But in the end, it fell. However... I failed to kill it. I’m not sure where, but the bastard must be hiding somewhere.”

She shifted slightly, observing him.

”Don’t beat yourself up over it,” she said softly. ”I’m sure the monster’s barely surviving. And who knows? There might be a better opportunity to end things.”

Her words hovered between them, unsure of their effect. His expression remained unreadable, impassive as ever. She couldn’t tell if her reassurance had reached him at all—or if it had simply been swallowed by the same silence that lingered before.

That same silence stretched once more, awkward and unmoving, before Northern finally spoke again.

”How long before we get to our destination?”

Roma swiftly unfastened the small leather pouch at her waist, pulling out a neatly folded map. With a practiced motion, she rolled it open, her gaze sharpening as she scanned the details.

She studied it for a few moments, her brows slightly furrowed, before speaking in an even tone.

”Once we leave the forest, Lithia should be just a few hours away.”

Northern exhaled a slow breath, nodding absently before closing his eyes again.

A moment passed.

Roma glanced at him, hesitant.

Even with his eyes closed, he could feel her gaze—piercing, pricking, like an invisible needle pressing against his skin.

His sigh came tired, measured. Without opening his eyes, he spoke.

”If you have something to say, I’d rather you say it than keep stabbing me with your eyes.”

She flinched slightly, her fingers twitching against the edges of the map. Her gaze wavered, darting away briefly before settling back on him, steady this time.

”Uhm... I... I was just curious...”

She hesitated, her words catching in her throat for a second before finally pushing them out.

”Why are you here?” Her voice was quieter now. ”I mean... why are you going to Lithia?”

Northern’s eyelids parted, his gaze distant—drifting, like a man lost in thought even as the present called to him.

Why was he here?

Why had he left the contest to a simple clone? Why had he volunteered to venture into a blockade despite the warnings—the very clear warnings—from the shopkeeper?

That question led him back, unearthing a memory he had mulled over more than once.

The day he left the academy.

The argument between Eleina and her father.

He had thought about it a few times already. About the wounds they bore when they returned.

Eleina... She could still be a forgemaster. Her hands were intact. But her father—the head forgemaster?

His craft was lost.

The damage was irreparable.

He might still instruct others, guide them with knowledge, but the forge would never feel the weight of his hammer again. It was a tragedy, really.

Eleina had spoken of the dangers—the risks of sending students beyond the academy’s gates. She had insisted that no one was acknowledging the severity of the threat, that they were blind to it.

Her father hadn’t denied it.

Which meant she was right.

And then... the shopkeeper had echoed the same words. The blockade—its silence, its stagnation, the eerie absence of national concern—it all felt wrong.

No nation suddenly seemed to care about what was happening.

Trade routes were strangled, yet only merchants—not kings, not nobles—were taking action. But even then, there was only so much merchants could do.

All these fragments—Eleina’s warning, her father’s silence, the shopkeeper’s words—coalesced into something undeniable.

Northern’s curiosity had been sparked.

This so-called blockade—he wanted to see it for himself. He wanted to understand what exactly was blocking the trade routes, what dangers lurked beneath the surface, and why no one with power seemed to be truly addressing it.

And yet, it wasn’t just that.

Delivering these crates safely to Lithia would also earn him the goodwill of a self-proclaimed information broker.

Someone with connections. Someone who knew people in many places.

There were advantages to this voyage.

And it did not come at the sacrifice of his ultimate goal—the Milhwa event.

After all, his clone was handling that.

Even now, though, chaos must have erupted within the academy’s authority.

He had cleared a rift in minutes.

A rift that should have taken weeks.

The news wouldn’t just shake the academy—it would shatter the world.

How would people perceive it?

Some would be in awe. Others... would call it impossible.

Many were bound to dismiss it as an exaggeration.

But the truth would ripple through the cracks.

And soon, the world would have no choice but to see it for what it truly was.