I Can Copy And Evolve Talents

Chapter 639: His Might Plunders The Heavens



Northern dashed at the officer, hurling his sword from below in a brutal arc across his torso.

But Oland was sharper-witted than he seemed, quickly raising his blade with a hastened backward step. Not only did he manage to block Northern's attack, but he also reduced the impact of its force on his entire form.

However, that was just the best of what he could get from this battle. Northern's movement became even more impossibly fast, throwing his hand almost from every angle.

His sword was fast, blurring and bleeding into a succession of strikes with an irregular and ugly pattern.

Oland tried his best. Despite being equipped with a second-choice hand, he was still able to at least stop the strike from severing a major part of his body again.

However, shallow lines of blood flashed on his skin as sparks of both swords flew.

Northern was calmly swinging his sword; the speed of his hand was unfair. He stood rigid, not using a flow of footwork to deal with the officer, one hand hung behind his back while the other handled the odachi.

Northern was giving him a handicap, only because he thought it fair to do so. Oland had lost one hand; if he wanted to have a chance at this battle, it was only required that he too fought with one hand.

"I'm giving all I have to you because I want you to shock me. You looked like I was hating on you before. Like I knew nothing about you. Here I am giving you one more chance to prove yourself. Although it really won't matter, I think you will die nonetheless."

Oland did not have the leeway like Northern. If he dared to respond to the boy's speech, he would have to divide his attention, and that would be very detrimental for him.

Instead, he gritted his teeth and continued to parry Northern's attacks, sometimes redirecting their force to the side or away from his body.

The air would shudder every time Oland maneuvered Northern's strikes. Before getting a breathing chance, Northern's blade would already be tracing an impossible arc back his way. Northern's blade arced downward like a lightning strike, raw and unrelenting.

Oland twisted his torso, narrowly dodging the cut as it shaved a strand of hair from his temple.

He pivoted on his back foot, thrusting his sword toward Northern's exposed ribs, but Stainless smacked away the officer's long sword with a splatter of sparks.

Northern's lips curled into a smirk. "Better," he murmured.

In an instant, Northern's blade shifted trajectories, the odachi snapping upward in a vicious uppercut.

Oland barely managed to angle his weapon in time, sparks erupting as steel met steel. The impact forced him a step back, his heels skidding on smooth ground.

The officer frowned darkly and immediately gathered himself, propelling himself towards Northern.

Stainless bit into his right chest, but almost immediately the officer grabbed the blade and released a jolt of electricity that traveled across the sword quickly.

Northern was joggled by a short but intense jolt of shock that almost made him stunned.

In that brief one second, Oland tore himself away from Northern's sword and closed the distance with a reckless charge, his blade aimed squarely for Northern's throat.

But Northern had already recovered, his Chaos Eyes flashing briefly as he tilted his head with uncanny precision. Oland's sword cleaved through empty air, close enough to stir Northern's hair but far enough to leave the officer overextended.

"You're trying," Northern said coolly, his voice carrying a faint undertone of mockery, "but not enough."

Before Oland could fully retract his blade, Northern's odachi came down again, a crushing arc of cold steel and unyielding force.

Oland managed to bring his weapon up in defense, the clash of their swords echoing like thunder in the hall.

The force sent Oland reeling, his boots sliding backward. His teeth clenched as he felt his wrist strain under the pressure, the sharp bite of pain threatening to weaken his grip.

Northern stepped forward with a deliberate calm, his blade weaving intricate, deadly patterns in the air. Each swing of Stainless felt like an extension of Northern's intent-a storm given form, chaotic yet precise.

Oland's breathing was ragged now, his muscles burning with the effort to stay alive. Each parry came slower, each deflection sloppier. The officer's body screamed for rest, but his mind refused to yield.

Northern tilted his head as if reading his opponent's thoughts. "Impressive," he said, "You managed to give me a little shock with your so-called lightning talent, but how long before you are able to build up another one that would probably just keep me away from you for half a second?"

Oland was devastated and despairing, but Northern did not give him room to grieve. His talent worked in such a way that he had to build up lightning if he wanted to use it as an offense.

Usually, its effect would stun his opponent right away, but it had little to no effect on Northern.

And the second ability he used at the beginning of their battle gave him a head start on speed, which was useless considering the insane amount of speed Northern matched him with.

Now, he was realizing, in fact, that what Northern had blurted out was not out of arrogance but true insight. A lot of thoughts ran across his mind, but in between having to parry Northern's brutal attacks with his life on the line and looking for a slight moment of counterattack, there was no room to ponder on his thoughts.

The next strategy he was considering was to... run.

"You're wasting energy," Northern said, spinning Stainless in his hand. "You won't win this way. Why don't you put your mind into it, try to think outside the box for the best possible way to defeat me."

Oland's eyes narrowed, his mind racing as he desperately searched for a weakness. Northern's technique was flawless, his movements unreadable. But there was one thing Oland knew: no

one was invincible.

Summoning the last reserves of his strength, with the propulsion of lightning speed he received from his talent, Oland feinted a strike toward Northern's head.

As expected, Northern's blade shot up to intercept, the motion so fast it was nearly invisible.

But this time, Oland was ready.

Twisting his body at the last moment, he dropped low and swung his blade upward, aimingn/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

for Northern's left side.

For a fraction of a second, it seemed as though he might land the blow.

Then Northern's lips curled into a grin, his eyes lowering in that moment to Oland's incoming sword, a deep void-like light rippling through his pupils.

Stainless moved faster than thought, intercepting Oland's sword with a deafening clang. Sparks erupted between them, lighting the grim hall in brief flashes.

Northern pointed to his eyes.

"There is no maneuver, no strategies of yours that I haven't already seen. In fact, shouldn't

you already be using this opportunity to run like you intended to? Come on, the door is

waiting for you."

Oland felt his entire body grow cold.