I Can Copy And Evolve Talents

Chapter 922: The Truth About Chaos Art

As control and balance slipped back into Northern’s hands, the Enigmatic Heroic Paladin began to move again. Like he had merely finished a brief rest. His v-shaped slit visor flickered back to life with the glow of heat that seemed to radiate from the depths of a volcano.

Then he raised one leg. The movement was ordinary, unremarkable, giving no hint of what was to come. But when he slammed the raised foot into the ground...

The world shook.

A seismic wave ripped out from the center and traveled with terrifying force, hurling all the monsters—desperate for a taste of his flesh—backward into the air.

All of them flew away, helpless against a power they couldn’t hope to withstand.

In this moment, the Enigmatic Paragon seized his advantage, pressing forward with relentless purpose. He blurred as he shot toward the airborne monsters—time seemed to crawl, with the Enigmatic Paragon moving like a streak of black ink and dancing flames against the frozen backdrop.

His hands lashed out and crushed one monster, the impact unleashing a shockwave that sent the poor creature rocketing across the sky, colliding with several others and dragging them along in its violent path.

They were all still falling, but before they could gather their wits, the Enigmatic Paragon was already upon them.

The raw might behind each blow contradicted the slender grace of his form. Despite his thick, jagged armor, such power suggested a more massive, hulking physique.

This disconnect made it impossible for onlookers to comprehend the true nature of his existence. He had to be a Paragon! There was no other explanation.

An Enigmatic one!

A Hero!

It was quite sad that [Titan’s Wrath] abilities were basically two categories. One of which reinforced him with thunderous strength and the other crushing his environment.

These two categories however have been more than enough for him for a while now. They were also bound to receive a major boost the moment he became an Ascendant, possibly a Paragon too. A real one.

Northern also had to consider the scale of damage before he unleashed each attack. Earthbreaker for example was an ability that could shatter the entire landscape of the arena and overturn everything.

He could trust the Citadel representatives to protect themselves, but he couldn’t say the same about the instructors or the rest of the good-hearted folks fighting desperately.

So, he used it with caution.

He could also not afford to be careless with essence the way he usually was.

And he had to hold out a bit more until reinforcement came.

Luckily, he had two of himself to depend on, so maybe things weren’t that bad. They never were for him. It was just the others he had always been worried about.

The Enigmatic Paragon clicked his tongue irritably behind his helm.

’Since when did I start caring about people.’

He rushed forward with even more frightening force, raising the hammer effortlessly with one hand and smashing it into the ground.

The entire place tore violently apart. Massive chunks of stone exploded outward, but before they could fly beyond his reach, his hammer had already whistled through the air and swung back just in time to shatter the largest debris—as if he had planned it all along.

Lightning crackled and sank into the stone like veins of corruption forcing their way in. It all happened in slow motion, seemingly. But the sequence was actually blindingly fast—too quick for naked eyes to follow. The stone fractured with merciless threads of lightning that danced outward, latching onto several monsters like hungry, electric tendrils.

The lightning sparked and writhed feverishly as the Enigmatic Paragon, in one smooth flow of attack, raised the hammer again and brought it thundering down.

The moment impact resounded, monsters were ripped to shreds. Purple blood fountained into the air and rained down on everything and everyone.

The display drew several gasps. Many had even paused their battles to witness the terrible beauty of this slaughter.

The Enigmatic Paragon was gruesome, yes, but his gruesomeness carried both art and creativity.

Perhaps he was built more for canvas than for battle. Yet beautifully he had transformed battle into a sort of canvas personalized for the viciousness of his hammer.

But elsewhere on the battlefield, another merciless and creative slaughter was unfolding, albeit with a different style.

The student moved with a dual trail of ice and fire. Wicked, immolating flames encircled him like a living cloak and lashed out with every movement, devouring monsters as if possessed by hunger.

From the soles of his feet, spears of ice shot forth, impaling monsters in an instant.

Behind him, a sinuous shadow slithered perpetually from monster to monster.

Each time the shadow pooled beneath a creature, the beast froze in place, and a heartbeat later, began to tremble violently.

The core purpose of Eclipsing Dread was to deliver exactly that—dread. Channeled through the terrifying medium of void essence, this talent’s ability to shatter monsters’ minds before Northern even reached them could never be overstated.

In fact, Northern could pinpoint this as one of the primary reasons why the battle had become so manageable and seemingly easy.

Although many might not share his perspective, as his definition of ”easy” was quite relative. Not many would align with his standards.

But he was enjoying himself quite well.

His sword sang feverishly as it harvested heads wherever it struck.

The creatures’ scaled skin was tough, but not tough enough to withstand a legendary item.

And the battle, viewed from two perspectives, was doing something more. Northern felt as though something—like droplets of essence—was slowly pooling into his soul.

The more he moved, the more these droplets accumulated. As long as he and his other self continued to fight, the foundation of something profound seemed to be gathering—drop by drop—waiting to form a vast ocean.

As to when that would happen, not even he knew.

Of course, he first needed to understand what was actually happening.

But Northern already had an inkling.

It had to do with the twin abilities of Omniform. Demon of Change gave him a doorway to a state of perpetual transformation, while Demon of Emulation was that doorway incarnate.

When he observed things long enough, he could peer into their essence, understand them in unusual ways. This mostly worked with battle arts, but in this conflict, a subtle shift was occurring.

Observing the fight from two different perspectives caused Northern—for the first time in ages—to truly notice the combat arts of monsters.

He wouldn’t be foolish enough to deny that monsters possessed battle arts; he had learned from one himself.

But Northern had long abandoned the teachings of Night Terror and had embraced the pathway of Chaos instead.

What was happening to him now was a reorganization, a restatement of his true essence.

The more he used Omniform to comprehend the true nature of these monsters’ battle techniques, the more he felt the veil over his own essence dissolving like morning mist.

Such that Northern found himself questioning, as he flowed from one monster to another, leaving a wake of severed limbs and spraying blood.

He had always thought Chaos art was what he needed. But witnessing how the monsters wrought chaos through their madness and frenzy, Northern couldn’t help but question the very nature of his battle art.

Of course, his own chaos was more refined and controlled. With Chaos Eyes, he could harness the environment—even time itself—to create pockets of disorder for him to exploit.

But even before, and certainly now, he had always walked a razor’s edge with chaos, making that precarious balance the very essence of his battle art.

And in all honesty, the progress of that battle art had stagnated for some time.

Northern was now grasping the nature of chaos better through dual consciousness, pondering what he observed through both perspectives.

His battle style remained chaos art, even as the Enigmatic Paragon. It was simply rewoven to embrace the weapon he wielded, and surprisingly, proved even more devastating with the hammer than with the sleek silvery sword.

Of course, ”thinking with both” was a peculiar concept, because it remained the same mind. Omniform merely helped him split it in two.

He was essentially contemplating the same question from different angles—one perspective examining Chaos art through the swift, precise sword, forecasting his art’s evolution by studying the savage fury with which the monsters attacked.

The other perspective viewed Chaos art through the lens of the crushing hammer and titanic strength, likewise predicting his art’s future by analyzing the same brutal frenzy that drove the monsters forward.

And both approaches were triggering a monumental breakthrough that Northern had never dreamed possible.

Which was why, as the battle raged on, he was already beginning to realize that...

Chaos Art was a battle style he never should have embraced.

Because at the end of that path lay only one destination...

Madness.

Northern’s brow furrowed behind Molten Vein’s helm as the realization crystallized within him.

’Stupid. What were you expecting?’

That was sort of what the whole emphasis of Chaos had been since the beginning.

There was only a finite amount of time he could stubbornly balance on the edge. If he sought growth, he had to move.

...Move a step closer toward Madness.

Like Koll, for example.

But Northern knew better than that.

Madness and Chaos, or Void—those weren’t his true nature.

He was a Copycat, a formless, nameless soul, whose very existence was to mirror and emulate any and everything.

’Damn... it.’

So, Northern began a disassembling.