I Can Copy And Evolve Talents

Northern stood up, the vigor seeping

out of his body as he did so. He tried to walk but faltered in his steps.

At that moment, a wounded monster went wild, charging towards his direction.

With a cold, indifferent gaze, Northern turned, avoided its obvious attack, and cleanly swiped at it before completely turning.

The voice of both Ul and the system sounded so distant; the clangs and cries that bathed the battlefield sounded too foggy. Everything seemed so far away.

Sort of numb…

He closed his eyes and dismissed his clone.

Of course, regardless of how he felt, he still had to deal with the pain. But, this time, Northern could not even find the strength to groan as a crude fatigue invaded every tendon in his body.

He dropped to his knees, the Mortal Blade slipping out of his hands.

Somehow, the war went on without him.

So did the vicious creatures continue their slaughters.

Both sides relentlessly carved out flesh, as gore spilled forth in a boorish yet ethereal artistry.

The previously peaceful forest was now a plateau of lifeless bodies, heaped upon each other with no space in between.

A sickening sight to behold.

At the center of it, Northern rested on his sword, trying to breathe… with every breath he took in the cruel scene that was laid out before him.

It was slowly tarnishing his soul… tempting to drive him to utter madness, until he became a corrupt slaughterer.

Gradually… he was… losing himself.

Regardless of how he felt, despite the emptiness within, he still had to fight.

He had to cut through the ranks of monsters. He had to fight harder, faster, and stronger than every other monster.

Better than any other general.

Northern swung his weapon in an arc upward, creating a frightening gash on the monster's torso.

Even though his muscles ached with every movement, he didn't stop moving.

His cold eyes did not waver. They were deftly locked onto their prey… at some point, as he approached, the monsters shivered, overwhelmed by the cold tendrils of fear before they were cut down a second later.

Northern's presence became that of an empty vessel of destruction, traversing the battlefield and laying to waste every single creature it passed.

'Maybe if I fight better than others… I would at least be able to keep more people from dying.'

Northern moved through the chaos with a subconscious determination. His body moved on its own, fueled by a deep-rooted desire to protect and save as many lives as possible.

The pain that seared through his muscles and the fatigue that weighed him down became distant sensations, overridden by his unwavering focus.

His sword cleaved through the ranks of monsters, each swing precise and lethal.

With each strike, he left behind a trail of dismembered limbs and severed heads.

The monsters trembled in fear at the sight of him, their once ferocious demeanor reduced to quivering masses.

Even the generals of the kingdom of Red Mines, who had held their ground valiantly until now, found themselves paralyzed with terror. Thanking their stars they were not his opponent.

Northern's face remained blank, devoid of any emotion.

His eyes were cold and unwavering, fixated on his target with an intensity that sent shivers down the spines of those who dared to meet his gaze.

He moved with a fluidity that defied his exhaustion, the onyx blade dancing in his hands like an extension of his very being.

The battlefield around him became a canvas of carnage, bodies piled upon bodies.

Northern stood amidst the chaos, his sword resting on his shoulder, his breathing slow and deliberate. Each breath he took seemed to absorb the brutality that surrounded him, threatening to consume his very soul.

'I have to fight, I can't stop now… I can fight more…'

He pushed himself harder, faster, and stronger than ever before, determined to keep more lives from being lost… even if they were the lives of monsters.

It didn't matter to him at all.

He couldn't even tell if he was doing the right thing, the wrong thing… or if he was just running mad.

With every swing of his sword, he created a path of devastation, ensuring that no monster escaped his wrath.

As the battle crept deeper into the night, the dark clouds hung heavier than before.

Northern's movements became a blur of deadly precision as he dispatched his enemies with ruthless efficiency.

The monsters that once posed as formidable opponents were no match for his relentless onslaught. His blade found their weak points with unerring accuracy, slashing through their flesh with a sickening ease.

As the battle reached its climax, Northern's body finally succumbed to the strain.

His vision blurred, and his legs gave out beneath him.

With a final swing of his sword, he felled one last monster before collapsing to his knees and onto the ground. The Mortal Blade also slipped from his grasp, clattering to the blood-soaked ground.

The chaotic sounds of the battlefield faded into the background as Northern's consciousness wavered. He had fought with every ounce of his being, he had protected them as much as he could.

But even as his physical limit hindered him, Northern worried.

Was it enough… Would he be able to save enough monsters from such a cruel fate?

In his foolish attempt to prove something wrong about the rift? He was instead falling deeper into its trap.

The battle continued to rage on, but Northern was lost to it. His body lay motionless, a testament to the toll that the fight had taken on him.

The battlefield was littered with the broken bodies of monsters, evidence of the devastation he had wrought.

As the battle drew to a close, Northern's unconscious form was discovered by Mr Fluffy, who whined repeatedly, as it ran around his body and tried to lift him with its muzzle.

The little mutt in fact… was not so little anymore.

The other monsters and generals came around and carried his body away from the battlefield, their faces etched with a mixture of admiration and concern.

They knew that the odd ally and general had fought with a determination and strength that few could match.

And so, Northern's presence lingered in the minds of those who had witnessed his valiant struggle.

As he lay in his slumber, Northern's dreams were haunted by the echoes of battle, as several souls cursed and pulled him into a fiery abyss of never-ending darkness.