I Can Copy And Evolve Talents

The young promising soldier stood afar from Burning Storm, fixing the vibrant, handsome man a blazing glare.

Burning Storm barely noticed. He couldn’t afford to waste any time, so he simply marched toward the complex, daring the young soldier to try his best to stop him.

The soldier answered the silent challenge and leaped into the air, landing softly atop a street lamp pole. More earthquakes rocked the ground, violent tremors rippling through the land like angry waves.

The soldier spun his dagger and joined its two halves together. The metal curved and extended, forming a stringless bow in his grip.

He opened his hands, and an arrow of pale moonlight began to manifest between his fingers. He nocked the arrow to the bow, and only then did the invisible string reveal itself, glinting with a cold, almost untraceable light.

He pulled and released.

The arrow of light flew with terrifying speed, but Burning Storm merely cocked his head, letting the arrow whistle past him. His steps never faltered as he continued forward.

A few more arrows were already gliding through the air with cold, sickening whistles.

The man sidestepped abruptly and swung the claymore in his hands. All the arrows shattered as though they had crashed against an invisible wall of blades.

Burning Storm fixed the guy with an indifferent gaze. The moment the soldier met those emerald eyes, he trembled visibly, a cold dread seeping into his bones like winter frost.

But he gritted his teeth and nocked another arrow. This time, it was different—a black arrow.

He stretched back the string as if he didn’t care if it snapped. Then he released.

The arrow moved so fast it seemed to vanish.

Instantly, Burning Storm swept his sword upward, his hands blurring as he deflected multiple strikes in a whirlwind of motion.

The arrows were sharp and fast, carved out of darkness itself. They mocked distance, reaching their target from multiple angles all at once.

But their target was a fearsome Paragon who lived within the very concept of force and motion.

Burning Storm moved with lightning speed, pushing a step forward and moving even more fiercely, crushing every single one of the black arrows that endlessly battered him from all angles.

Then he struck the young soldier with a fierce glare and slashed the wind.

The young soldier immediately flew off the pole, tumbling through the air before landing on another lamp post almost instantaneously. As he fled, the pole he’d been standing on sliced into different lengths, as did several buildings behind him, causing the night to resound with a deafening rumble like thunder cracking the earth.

Burning Storm swung his sword again and again, each swing unleashing cutting power that devoured distance. Neighboring buildings crashed and shattered, trembling as scars tore through their magnificent forms like cloth ripped by invisible claws.

The soldier moved with nimble grace, dancing across Burning Storm’s slashes as though choreographed. Even mid-flight, he managed to nock arrows and shoot with deadly precision.

The black arrows, when released, multiplied and dispersed before reaching Burning Storm. They converged from multiple directions all at once, a deadly storm of midnight points.

Burning Storm regarded these arrows with utter indifference. All of them were swallowed and brutally sliced with each swing of his massive claymore, the blade singing through the air with terrible beauty.

His slashes were powerful and colossal, but they couldn’t catch his elusive opponent.

Burning Storm paused for a heartbeat, eyes narrowing to slits. In that brief moment, the soldier’s eyes flared with white light. With furiously fast motion, he nocked two arrows simultaneously.

One black, one white. Both arrows blasted from the bow upon release, twisting around each other like lovers in a fatal dance. They carried the wind with them as they hurtled toward the Paragon.

But Paragon Raizel merely stood his ground. The arrows collided with him and shattered like glass against stone.

The young soldier paled first, then exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.

He jumped down from the pole, landing softly on the broken ground. With measured steps, he began walking toward Burning Storm.

“You know, we were very well informed about your broken talent,” he said, his voice cutting through the silence.

He studied Burning Storm with undisguised interest, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“The more you fight, the stronger and more energetic you become. Of course, you’re not invincible—you just have a broad reservoir of essence because you’re a Paragon. But you know,”

He paused, eyes glinting.

“I am a Paragon too… and that means I have what it takes to take your already halved essence away.”

He stopped, the bow vanishing into white sparks that drifted away like fireflies in the night.

“While I earnestly yearn to defeat you for how badly you broke the hearts of all young soldiers who looked up to you, I am well aware that in the end, it’s not my job to do so. There’s only one person who can truly take care of you.”

His voice hardened, resolve sharpening his features.

“However, even if it means I die, I have to make you pay somehow… I have to make my brothers proud and leave a crude scar on the Burning Storm who betrayed the vision of the government.”

A dark frown shadowed Burning Storm’s eyes, yet despite this, his green eyes glimmered with a ghastly handsomeness that seemed almost supernatural.

He released the claymore, already summoning another set of weapons. Whirlwinds of sparks enveloped both his hands, dancing like angry spirits waiting to take form.

But in that moment of transition, the young soldier blazed forward, covering the distance with blurring speed. He reached Burning Storm and lifted his entire body into the air. As he did, his form began to unravel, revealing something else beneath—something inhuman.

Wicked, powerful black talons crashed down toward Raizel, but he vanished from their path, causing the talons to pulverize the ground where he had stood. The massive claws squeezed the chunk of stone they’d grabbed, reducing the rubble to dust with terrifying ease.

Standing on the shattered ground were two enormous talons, black as if they’d been dipped in the ink of midnight itself.

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