I Can Copy And Evolve Talents

Paragon Raizel observed Northern with intrigue, arms folded, a pleasant smile playing on his lips.

"Of course you do, you brat."

His smile widened, blooming like heavenly jade flowers—an inexplicably ethereal sight.

Northern, unfazed by the strange beauty in the man's expression, exhaled slowly before speaking.

"There's something about my ability... It's like a world of abilities—one that can accommodate other abilities."

His gaze swept over the gathered figures, measuring their reactions before continuing.

"But the best part is... it's not just a world that can accommodate abilities… it can accommodate humans too."

Silence followed. Paragon Raizel remained still, contemplating Northern's words before finally speaking.

"I assume that's where Sir Ilitis and Sir Bairan just emerged from?"

Northern nodded.

"Yes."

He paused, then continued.

"I can harbor or create a channel for as many souls as possible and to pass through. However, there are limits to the kind of souls I can accommodate."

"Oh? It'd be rather strange if there weren't any. Please, go on."

Northern shot the Paragon a skeptical glance before resuming his explanation.

"As you already know, a Sage, an Ascendant, and a Paragon possess dangerously powerful souls. My soul would perceive yours as a threat. And there's no telling what could happen."

That wasn't entirely true. In fact, Northern knew exactly what would happen if a Paragon's soul entered the Limitless Void.

The vast, primordial Void nested within him would react—sharply. It would either attempt to infect Paragon Raizel... or shred his soul apart and absorb it.

Northern didn't know how he understood this, but the awareness sat in him like an undeniable truth, woven through the synchronicity between himself and the Void.

Just like how he had accessed the Void's memory to glean the knowledge of creation—his version, though miniature in comparison, still held weight.

The instinctive nudge at the back of Northern's mind whispered that having a Paragon within the embrace of his soul was far more dangerous than he was letting on.

It wasn't just a risk—it was devastation waiting to unfold.

But he chose to let it seem… casual. Framing it as a mere limitation was safer that way.

Paragon Raizel nodded thoughtfully, digesting Northern's words.

"That means all the Sages, Ascendants, and Paragons would have to travel separately?"

Northern nodded his head slightly.

The Paragon seemed lost in thought, his gaze distant and calculating. Then, after a moment, his focus sharpened, locking back onto Northern.

"I have a question, Ral."

Northern hesitated for a beat before responding.

"Okay…"

Raizel studied him with renewed interest.

"Please, enlighten me on how exactly people will use your soul as a channel."

Northern's fingers moved subtly as he gestured, explaining.

"Right now, I have a clone in Verulania. I can use it to open a portal there. Everyone would pass through the Limitless Void to Verulania…"

The Paragon frowned a little bit and inquired staring straightly at Northern.

"Why Verulania?"

"Because that is where my clone is…? And it's the closest nation from here… unless of course, you don't want to go to Verulania."

Raizel's expression darkened. A long silence stretched between them before he exhaled, rubbing his temple.

"Ral. Of all places we could escape to, Verulania is the worst choice."

Northern frowned slightly, intrigued by the sudden weight in the Paragon's tone.

"Why?"

Raizel leaned away from the table, pacing forward in slow, deliberate strides.

"Verulania is an open city. More importantly, as you've said it's the closest city to this blockade. Anyone with a working brain would assume that if we somehow—by some miracle—escaped this blockade or tore through it, our destination would be Verulania. It's what any sane person would do."

He paused, raising a single finger.

"But there's a flaw in that assumption."

Northern listened intently.

"Since we won't be traveling by the monster-congested roads, they won't see us coming. There will be no information leak—no warning—until we arrive in Verulania. Whatever trap they've set for us there will still activate, just not as immediately or as efficiently as it would have if we had come by road."

Northern nodded slowly. "So what's the problem, then? If we have that advantage, why not choose Verulania?"

Raizel shook his head.

"It's too easy. Too predictable. We can use your ability in a way that no one expects, throw our enemies completely off their game."

His voice dropped slightly, his tone edged with something colder, more calculating.

"And most importantly… I need time to act. I don't know what Dante is up to right now—but I have to find out."

Northern glanced at Ilitis.

"I don't think you need to stress yourself about finding out."

Paragon Raizel's gaze shifted toward the prim and proper man standing near the corner of the room. Ilitis remained composed, while Bairan, standing a few meters away, observed with cold detachment.

If someone were to judge the Sword King solely by his appearance, they'd never guess he was such a jovial and lively man… summon.

Raizel shook his head with a soft chuckle.

"Come now. There's a limit to the amount of information even someone like Ilitis can access. The government operates through deep, inner chambers—every action, every decree, is wrapped in layers of propaganda. Even their lifestyle is propaganda."

His voice lowered, serious but knowing.

"So, I'm not saying Ilitis lacks information. I'm saying there's a high chance that what he knows has already been manipulated."

A quiet pause.

"Then I suppose…" the shopkeeper's voice cut in smoothly, "the leader of this revolution has already manipulated the entire continent into believing he's purging the government from within—with the flames of his blade."

Paragon Raizel froze.

A grimace crossed his face—dark, heavy, and furious.

Northern had never seen the Paragon this pissed since arriving here.

"What did you just say?" Raizel's voice was dangerously low.

The shopkeeper met his gaze evenly.

"Lieutenant Dante has an army of Ascendants and Sages—ones who will soon become Paragons and Ascendants themselves. I believe he's buying time to allow this growth… all while purging the government in the meantime."

His eyes narrowed slightly.

"And he locked you in this place to keep you out of his business."

The temperature in the room shifted violently.

A ghastly green flame erupted in Raizel's eyes.

A crushing, oppressive force exploded outward.

The air itself thickened—solidifying—pressing against their lungs. Every breath was a struggle. The walls groaned, as if buckling under invisible weight.

Northern felt it immediately. His pulse slammed against his ribs, his heart hammering faster than it should. It wasn't fear.

It was an acknowledgment.

No matter how powerful he had grown…

The wrath of a Paragon was a force of nature.

Sage Mack and Ascendant Zion were in far worse condition.

Their faces had gone pale, sweat trickling down their temples. Their bodies trembled under the sheer weight of Raizel's fury. If no one intervened soon, they might pass out—or worse.

Perhaps even Lithia itself would suffer under the oppressive force Raizel was emanating.

Northern was about to step in.

But before he could—

Bairan moved past him.

The Sword King walked up to the seething Paragon and, with effortless ease, placed a hand on his shoulder.

His voice was calm. Even.

"Hey, hey…"

Bairan's lips curved into something dangerously close to amusement.

"Calm your hot balls. My Master is here."