I Can Copy And Evolve Talents

Chapter 1212: An Incredible Mistake Indeed

Northern tore through the darkness, essence burning like a comet as he pushed beyond sustainable speeds. The Omnisphere guided him through the shifting terrain, avoiding the walls that tried to manifest, the pits that opened beneath phantom feet.

Behind it, in the distance, reality itself was screaming.

The main body’s domain clash sent shockwaves through the Patriarch’s Soul World—distortions rippling outward, azure light flickering as the authority struggled to maintain cohesion in two places at once.

Northern felt it. The pressure was lessening because the domain was trying to dominate the other authority that had entered it. This made the resistance in other areas way weaker.

He flew through the air at great speed. The heat signature grew clearer. Stronger, now that nothing was suppressing the Omnisphere’s perception.

He crested a ridge of obsidian stone and stopped.

Below, in a shallow crater carved into the dark plains, a figure hung suspended in mid-air.

Northern’s eyes widened.

“Father…”

Shin hung three feet off the ground, arms spread wide, wrists and ankles bound by chains of crystallized azure light. The chains weren’t attached to anything physical—they simply existed, anchored to the domain itself.

His head hung forward, black hair—now streaked with more gray than Northern remembered—falling across his face. His clothes were torn, stained with dried blood. His chest rose and fell in shallow, labored breaths.

But he was alive.

Northern landed softly at the crater’s edge, every sense on high alert. He descended into the crater slowly, eyes scanning for traps, for hidden threats, for anything that screamed ambush.

Nothing.

Just Shin, the chains and the oppressive silence of the pseudo Soul World.

Northern reached the bottom and approached cautiously.

“Father.”

Shin didn’t move.

“Father!”

Still nothing.

Northern reached out, hand trembling slightly—and the moment his fingers touched Shin’s shoulder, his father’s eyes snapped open.

They were bloodshot. Exhausted. But aware.

“…North?”

The voice was hoarse. Cracked. Like he hadn’t spoken in days.

“I’m here.” Northern’s hand tightened on his shoulder. “I’m getting you out.”

Shin’s eyes focused slowly, confusion giving way to recognition, then to horror.

“No.” The word came out as a rasp. “No, you… you need to leave. Now.”

“I’m not leaving without you.”

“Northern—” Shin coughed, body convulsing. When he spoke again, blood flecked his lips. “It’s a trap. This whole thing. He wanted you to come. He—”

“I know.” Northern’s voice was cold. Certain. “I don’t care.”

His hands moved to the chains, gripping the crystallized light. The moment it touched them, pain screamed through his essence—like grabbing a live wire made of pure soul energy.

Northern gritted its teeth and pulled.

The chains didn’t budge.

“They’re… bound to the domain,” Shin managed. “Can’t break them. Not unless—”

“Unless I break the domain itself.” Northern’s eyes narrowed. “Working on it.”

In the distance, that reality-scream intensified. The ground trembled. Azure light flickered across the false sky.

Shin’s eyes widened slightly. “What did you… Northern, what did you do?”

“What I had to.”

Northern tried again, this time wrapping wind around the chains, using Windless to create zones of absolute stillness, trying to freeze the energy in place and using Ice manipulation to solidify it, so it could be shattered.

The chains pulsed brighter, drinking both the wind and ice, absorbing them like fuel.

“Damn it.”

“Northern.” Shin’s voice was firmer now despite his condition. “Listen to me. You need to—”

He stopped.

His entire body went rigid.

Northern felt it too. A change in the air that caused his brows to furrow.

Behind him, at the crater’s edge, a voice spoke—calm, measured, almost gentle:

“How touching.”

Northern slowly turned.

A figure stood silhouetted against the flickering azure sky. Tall. Black hair. Red eyes that burned like distant stars.

The Patriarch.

He descended into the crater with slow, deliberate steps, hands clasped behind his back, expression unreadable.

“You’ve done well to reach this far, young Northern. Better than I expected, truth be told.” His gaze flicked to the distant distortion where the main body fought. “Manifesting a Soul world at Evanescent rank. Remarkable. Your talent is… exceptional.”

Northern said nothing, he just stood there, looking at the Patriarch with a blank expression, trying to suppress his anger and act with a cool head.

The Patriarch stopped ten meters away.

“But ultimately futile.” He gestured lazily toward Shin. “These chains are woven from the domain’s foundation. To break them, you would need to collapse the entire Soul World—and we both know you lack the strength for that.”

“Try me.”

A faint smile touched the Patriarch’s lips. “I already am.”

He raised one hand.

The azure chains binding Shin tightened, digging into his wrists and ankles. Shin gasped in pain, body arching involuntarily.

“Stop!”

Northern surged forward.

The Patriarch’s smile widened—and then froze. Because Northern didn’t slam into an invisible wall. He didn’t slow or stop.

Instead he easily crossed ten meters in a fraction of a heartbeat—faster than thought, faster than reaction—and his fist drove straight into the Patriarch’s face.

The impact was cataclysmic.

The Patriarch’s head snapped back with a wet crack. His entire body lifted off the ground, hurled backward like a ragdoll. He crashed into the crater wall thirty meters away—obsidian stone exploding on impact, spiderweb cracks radiating outward.

Northern was already moving.

He crossed the distance before the Patriarch could even hit the ground. His hand shot forward—grabbed the older man by the throat—and slammed him through the wall entirely.

Stone shattered. Dust exploded outward.

Northern didn’t let go.

He dragged the Patriarch through the rubble, spun, and hurled him across the crater. The Patriarch’s body tumbled end-over-end, carving a trench through the dark earth before slamming into the opposite wall.

This time, the Patriarch caught himself.

His feet touched stone—and he pushed, launching himself back toward Northern with speed that blurred the air.

His fist came in fast and precise. Aimed at Northern’s temple.

Northern’s head tilted fractionally.

The punch missed by millimeters.

Northern’s counter didn’t.

His hand caught the Patriarch’s wrist mid-strike—squeezed—and bone crunched.

The Patriarch’s eyes widened in shock and pain—

Northern’s other fist drove into his ribs.

The sound was like a tree trunk snapping. Ribs shattered—three, four, maybe five—caving inward under the force of Northern’s monstrous strength.

The Patriarch gasped. Blood sprayed from his lips.

Northern didn’t stop.

He released the wrist. Grabbed the Patriarch’s shoulder. Yanked him forward into a rising knee strike that connected with his sternum.

Another crack.

The Patriarch’s body folded around the impact, lifting off the ground again—

—and Northern performed an impressive 540 kick in an inverted position, slamming his leg into the Patriarch that was rising up.

Blood erupted from his mouth. His body launched, spinning through the air, crashing into the ground hard enough to crater it.

For a moment, he didn’t move.

Then, impossibly, he pushed himself up.

Blood dripped from his mouth. His breathing was ragged, labored. His left arm hung useless—wrist shattered, fingers twitching spasmodically. His ribs were caved in on one side, each breath a visible agony.

But his eyes…

His eyes burned with something cold. Calculating.

“I see,” he wheezed. “It seems I have made an incredible mistake.”