I Can Copy And Evolve Talents-Chapter 881: To Defeat A Leviathan

[Congratulations]

[Void Monster, Nebulous Lord, has evolved to an Abysmal Behemoth.]

Northern stared at the panel, his expression pallid and dazed. Nebulous Lord had evolved again. Barely moments after becoming a Destroyer.

'Isn't he… getting a little too overpowered?'

A sudden chill crept up his spine. Fear settled in, not from some outside force, but from within. The monsters carried in his soul… they weren't just growing stronger. They were becoming a terrifying force that seemed to host some strange pathways to what Northern has no idea of.

There was the Abyss Tyrant, too. And all the others.

They would keep evolving. Keep getting stronger. And the outcome would only grow more appalling.

But, in the end, it all still aligned with his greater plan—one he had been silently pursuing since the rift in Sura. Since the day he was forced to kill young Ulzred.

He had tried running from that memory, but never once had he let go of the vow born from it.

All he could do now was move one step at a time. The step in front of him now... was Rughsbourgh. Lithia and its chaos were just noise, distractions beneath the weight of what truly mattered.

Night had sunk into its deepest depth, nearing the crescendo of darkness before it would finally begin to ascend, peeling back just enough to let the day pierce through its black veil.

Behind him, Paragon Raizel landed, his feet making no sound. He took a few steps forward to match Northern's pace.

Northern's gaze remained locked on the magnified form of Nebulous Lord, now standing aloof and imposing, as if detached from the world. Only with effort did he pull his eyes away to face Raizel.

Burning Storm looked worn—his entire frame ragged. One arm was missing, and yet, oddly, he was holding that very arm in his other hand, as if it was nothing out of place.

Northern's face tightened in concern, but Raizel scoffed.

"Pay me no heed. I'll be just fine."

His attention shifted to the behemoth standing still in front of them.

"This… on the other hand…"

He turned back toward Northern.

"Ral… what exactly are these things following you? Are you planning world destruction?"

He gestured to where Abyss Tyrant and the rest loomed, silent and monstrous.

"Why in all hells are you surrounded by so many power-broken monsters? What are you preparing for?"

Northern smiled faintly.

It was understandable. Of course the Paragon wouldn't get it. No one truly could. Even Northern himself had once questioned if he was just creating summons for the sake of it—out of instinct, perhaps.

But he knew better.

Every summon had a purpose. Every monster had arrived in a moment of desperation, summoned by the need of the hour. Nebulous Lord, for example, had turned the tide when it mattered most in Luinngard.

Each one existed to fulfill a role. A contingency. A measure against what the world wasn't ready to face.

They were his passive preparations—his quiet arsenal for the calamity looming on the horizon.

Only those who had witnessed the horror in the Dark Continent... only those who had survived that rift and caught even a glimpse of the Origin of Chaos could begin to grasp the scale of it.

If that thing ever touched the ground... the world would crumble. Civilization would rot into a vessel for Ragnarok, where chaos and blood weren't just concepts—but laws. Immutable, devouring.

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He didn't fully understand what Origins truly were, not yet. But the sheer divinity of their presence—the unfathomable weight of the power they carried—was beyond comprehension. Even his own.

So he did what he could.

He grew stronger—not just by himself, but through everything at his disposal. Slowly, steadily. Every summon, every moment, every ounce of strength gained was progress. One fragment at a time.

There was no need to rush.

Right now, his only goal was to humiliate Rughsbourgh.

Northern tilted his head slightly, the smile still playing on his lips.

"Well, let's just say… there's something I've seen—something that leaves me restless until I've explored and grasped every core of power that exists in this world… and beyond."

Burning Storm's gaze dulled, paling ever so slightly.

"Something you've seen…"

He echoed quietly, shaking his head.

"Whatever it is… I don't think I want to see it."

He let out a short breath, trying to ground himself in lighter thoughts.

"Still… having someone like you as a friend is oddly reassuring. We are friends, right?"

Paragon Raizel offered a smile—forced, a little uneven, a little shaky.

Northern looked at him for a beat longer than necessary. He replied simply.

"I'm your mentee. There's still a lot I need to learn from you."

Raizel chuckled, but the sound was hollow and laced with irony.

He said, waving dismissively

"Ahah, boy, please. Don't mock me. Learn from me…? You're not even a Paragon yet, and I can't honestly say if I'd win in a fight against you. Not with all these things—"

His gaze swept across the silent horde of monsters looming in the distance.

"These creatures you command… I'd probably die ten times over before I even touched the hem of your garment."

Northern gave a lighthearted shrug.

"Come on… you'd probably beat the shit out of me."

Raizel's laughter returned, but it was tight, faintly bitter.

"Ah… ha. So humble, Ral. So humble I could die."

Northern held the smile a moment longer, then slowly raised his gaze to the sky. A glint of steel ignited in the depths of his azure eyes—serious, distant, calculating.

"So… what exactly are we going to do about that?"

Paragon Raizel followed his gaze. His expression sobered as he too stared up at the endless night sky.

Northern was right.

The threat wasn't over. It hadn't even properly begun.

They had to face a Leviathan.

A damn Leviathan.

A creature whose name alone bent the will of men. A rank of monster no Paragon—or even a Sage—should ever willingly face. Some might even say not without a Luminary present… if they dared say anything at all.

And yet… here they were. Burning Storm and Unwritten.

No Luminary. No backup. Just them—and the shadows that stood at Northern's back.

And somehow… somehow, Raizel felt a sliver of belief take root in his chest.

With the kinds of beings gathered here—strange, monstrous, divine, unexplainable—maybe… just maybe…

They could do it.

Defeat a Leviathan.