I Can Copy And Evolve Talents

Chapter 827: Social Recluse

”Bairan.”

”Yes, My Master!”

The gaunt, white-haired man materialized as if he had been waiting his entire existence for Northern’s call. As if every crawling, flying second of his life had been spent in endless anticipation.

He was even smiling.

Shaking off Bairan’s smug grin from his thoughts, Northern glanced at the shopkeeper before turning back to Bairan.

”This man has promised me his loyalty. But of course, I can’t trust him. So, I want you to break him—reshape him in such a way that he understands he has only one choice: to be my servant. If he so much as thinks of doing otherwise, he should come to know that there exists a fate far worse than death.”

The shopkeeper’s face lost all color as Northern’s words sank into his bones.

His gaze darted toward the strangely approachable yet inexplicably foreboding man before him.

Bairan looked as though he were suppressing something unfathomably malignant beneath his skin, something coiled and waiting.

Northern turned back to the trembling shopkeeper, tapping him lightly on the shoulder.

”We will meet again soon.”

The shopkeeper tried to speak, but his words tumbled over themselves, refusing to escape his mouth.

Bairan, meanwhile, was already grinning at him, his piercing blue eyes glinting with something that looked disturbingly close to enjoyment.

The shopkeeper had no idea what was unfolding, but he feared—greatly. His heart slammed wildly against his ribs.

Northern disappeared from the Limitless Void, leaving the two of them alone.

***

Back in his room, Northern lay down to steal a few hours of rest. Even if his consciousness was in the body of a clone, sleep functioned the same way regardless.

But the peace did not last long.

A deafening clang shattered the estate’s stillness—the estate bell, ringing loud enough to scrape against the bones of dawn.

Students were already moving through the halls, many heading toward breakfast.

Their conversations were a buzz of lingering excitement from yesterday’s battles. Almost every fight had been exhilarating, but one, in particular, had left jaws unhinged.

A certain student had demonstrated an overwhelming level of power, enough to make people question if even the student council president could stand against him.

But after witnessing the council president’s own battle, that question had become even harder to answer.

Northern had accessed the memory the moment he entered his clone, and it was exactly as he had suspected.

The student council president—for someone of her caliber—was formidable.

But the most striking thing? She had fought without even using her talent ability. And yet, alone, she had crushed three opponents.

Northern was beyond impressed.

As for whether she could defeat him...

He scoffed to himself.

He was out here killing Behemoths by accident.

’Maybe... I should stop pretending I don’t know exactly what I am.’

Northern sighed and stepped into the bathroom.

A few moments later, he emerged, feeling refreshed, his damp hair clinging to his forehead.

Since this was just a clone, certain abilities of Advanced Cloning allowed him to replicate items along with his body—an ability he had obtained long ago.

Most abilities didn’t stay distinct forever. The system had a way of either integrating them into his body or absorbing them into the passiveness of his abilities.

For instance, when he created a clone, it automatically duplicated whatever he was wearing. Initially, this ability had limitations, but after acquiring the skill to clone objects, those restrictions had vanished.

Yet, over time, that ability had been absorbed into his clones, meaning he could no longer individually clone objects anymore.

If he looked at it introspectively, it almost felt like the system itself was restricting him in subtle ways.

And yet... at the same time, it was granting him Do-It-Yourself capabilities and other remarkable quirks—powers that had made his current level of strength even possible.

Still, Northern couldn’t shake the wariness he felt toward the system.

And toward Void and Chaos.

Whatever he planned to do, he knew he had to keep suppressing them. But that didn’t mean he was without his own schemes. He just couldn’t let those entities peek into them.

His uniform materialized seamlessly onto his body. After ruffling his hair a bit more to dry it, Northern stepped out of his room, entering the hallway and making his way toward the dining hall.

’This is... strange...’

He glanced around.

He had never realized that this many non-combative students lived in this hall. Or that so many of them had actually participated in the contest.

Normally, students were free to wear whatever they wanted, and it was mostly the combative students who stuck to their uniforms.

But today...

The non-combative students were wearing their academy uniforms with a sense of pride.

It was... unexpected.

Northern stood in front of the server, holding his empty tray.

The woman behind the counter suddenly smiled at him.

”There’s a special meal for you today. Please set your tray down, student.”

Northern tilted his head slightly, his eyes questioning, but he obeyed, placing the tray down.

The woman reached under the counter and pulled out an already prepared and packaged meal. Each side dish had been delicately arranged around the main dish—a mound of mashed rice.

Then she placed another tray on top of it, filled with expertly sterilized steaks, glistening under the light. At the slightest movement, seasoned sauce and oil dripped enticingly from the meat.

She smiled at him once again.

”I’m a cooking instructor from the non-combative school,” she said, her voice filled with quiet pride. ”You made us proud, boy. From now on, I’ll personally prepare and serve your meals for the rest of this contest.”

Her eyes shone with something fierce—hope, admiration, expectation.

”This might seem like a lot to ask, but please... win this contest for us.”

Northern froze for a moment.

It felt... odd. Slightly good, but odd.

The preferential treatment was nice—it was a comfortable luxury.

But the hope in her eyes...

He didn’t like being looked at like that.

Like he was some kind of hero.

Yet, lately, it seemed that what he didn’t like was exactly what was happening to him.

’They’re misunderstanding me. I am not a good person.’

Still, he bowed slightly, forcing a small smile. He hesitated for just a moment before finally muttering—

”...Thank you.”

Then he turned and walked away—quickly—his face suddenly feeling hot.

’Damn it! Damn it! Damn it! I really need to socialize more!’