I Can Copy And Evolve Talents

Chapter 1130: Brothers Of The Crow

The wind in the dark palace was hushed, flowing along the lower ground. The upper atmosphere of the palace was drenched by an unnatural darkness—most especially with the strange movement of the bird from earlier.

The atmosphere changed drastically. It wasn’t a temperature drop or rise. In fact, there was no visible change. Everything was just somehow registering to Shin’s sharp senses that had been honed by his years and experience of brutal slaughter.

Shin held a sword in his hand. Suho Kageyama also held another sword. It was long and curved, a perfect odachi that looked like it had been dipped into liquid darkness.

The obsidian color of the blade seemed to drip, in fact.

The Patriarch held the sword with both hands and looked at his brother.

Shin was also doing the same. One hand was holding the hilt of his own curved katana, while the other hand was just beneath the pommel, supporting it.

Both of them watched each other, their eyes gleaming with sinister red light. The crimson of the Patriarch’s eyes was more demented; it shone with an unsettling radiance, exhibiting eerie menace.

Shin’s glow was a calm crimson radiance, dangerous nonetheless, like the eyes of a man who had nothing left to lose.

But that was the irony... Shin had something to lose. But he was ready to give his life for that something.

In a sharp, quick heartbeat... he had decided... his brother had to die.

The wind on the lower ground calmed for a moment. As if falling to rest and taking a breath as it was about to pick up, both legs moved.

The movement was inconceivable, imperceptible; they were gone, and they clashed in the center of the air.

As they did, the entire palace shook with cold force. Cracks battered the upper layers of about ten pillars that were closest to their clash.

Dust blasted out of the pillars a second later, and the high arched ceiling shook as the pillars holding it had been greatly shaken.

But the two of them did not, of course, care for that.

As they clashed with each other, they tore away from each other again, each landing on the vertical body of a column. With the same flow, same rhythm, both of them pushed their bodies lower and shot forth like a spring, obliterating the columns they each took off from.

The columns exploded as if they were gunned by a bomb of force. The two combatants shot towards each other with terrifying speed and flew past each other, landing on another column.

No one saw what happened, because it was fast, but silver sparks had scattered in the air right at that moment.

They wasted no other second, not even a fraction of it. They pushed off the columns and clashed again, and again, and again.

In the upper air of the hall, both of them became lines of silver and darkness, shooting at each other with imperceptible speed. All that could be conceived of them was the aftermath of their collision and speed, the explosion of each pillar they took off from, and the more pillars that suffered cracks and explosions as collateral damage.

The sound of their blades was haunting and rhythmic; there was a space before each ringing again. The space was consistent in pace with the explosion of the columns. And silvery black zigzagged lines were being drawn in the air as they flew all over the place, clashing and disengaging from each other.

The ceiling groaned. Stone fragments rained down like hail as another pillar buckled and split.

Shin twisted midair, his blade catching moonlight through a shattered window. The katana’s edge whispered through empty space where Suho’s neck had been a heartbeat before. His brother was already gone, shadow-stepping along the wall’s surface like gravity meant nothing.

The obsidian odachi came down in a vertical slash that would have cleaved Shin from crown to groin. He rolled left along the column’s curve, feeling the blade’s wind pressure kiss his spine. Stone exploded where the dark steel struck. Suho’s weapon carved through marble like it was wet clay.

They separated again. Forty feet apart, perched on opposite walls like gargoyles.

Neither breathed hard. Neither blinked.

Suho’s crimson eyes tracked his brother’s micro-movements—the slight shift in shoulder angle, the minute adjustment of grip. Shin’s gaze remained fixed on the space between Suho’s collarbones, where the killing stroke would land. His eyes were sharp and locked, bringing back the old killer he had forgotten.

A chunk of ceiling crashed down between them.

They moved.

This time Shin came low, blade angled upward in a rising cut meant to open Suho from hip to shoulder. But Suho was spinning, using the momentum to bring his odachi around in a horizontal arc. The blades met with a sound like breaking thunder.

The shockwave pulverized every remaining window. Glass fell like crystalline snow.

They locked there for one frozen moment—brother against brother, steel grinding against steel. Suho’s demented smile reflected in Shin’s calm eyes.

Then Suho twisted his wrist. The odachi’s curve caught Shin’s blade and threw it wide. The Patriarch’s follow-up thrust came straight for the heart.

Shin wasn’t there. He’d dropped backward into a bridge, letting the dark blade pass inches over his chest. His own katana swept up from below, aiming for Suho’s exposed wrist.

But Suho was already airborne, using Shin’s own blade as a springboard to launch himself toward the vaulted ceiling. He struck the stone with both feet and pushed off, diving down with his odachi held in both hands like a spear.

Shin rolled aside. The obsidian blade punched through marble flooring up to the crossguard. Cracks spiderwebbed outward from the impact point. The entire palace floor tilted slightly.

Neither warrior paused. Suho ripped his weapon free in a spray of stone chips and swung horizontally. Shin ducked the cut and lunged forward, driving his pommel toward his brother’s solar plexus.

Suho caught the strike on his blade’s flat and twisted, trying to trap Shin’s weapon. But Shin was already flowing around the attempted bind, his katana sliding along the odachi’s obsidian surface with a sound like grinding bones.

They disengaged again. This time Shin landed on a listing pillar while Suho touched down on a pile of rubble where another column used to stand.

”Doesn’t this bring back memories?”

Shin did not respond. His eyes were sharp and locked onto Suho’s neck. It was like a predator who wanted nothing else but the taste of that juicy neck.

And Shin’s focus was eerie.