I Can Copy And Evolve Talents

Chapter 1186: Thunderhead Dreadnought

The storm responded to his presence, the winds calming as if recognizing their creator. Northern felt it—the connection between himself and this variant. An extension of his will, infused with elemental fury.

The response was immediate.

The storm intensified, clouds compressing and darkening to near-black. Lightning hammered the tower repeatedly, each bolt absorbed into the structure. Then, the transformation began.

The tower didn’t simply shift—it unfolded.

Stone walls rippled like liquid, flowing and reforming. Floors compressed horizontally, stretching into a massive hull. Spires bent and merged, becoming prow and stern. Lightning rods realigned along the deck, creating a defensive network. The rotating rain curtain expanded, forming a spherical storm barrier around the entire vessel.

Within seconds, the Tempest Spire was gone.

In its place floated the Thunderhead Dreadnought—an airship that looked less like a vehicle and more like a living storm given shape.

The vessel was enormous, easily triple the size of any conventional airship Northern had seen. Its hull was dark obsidian-like material that devoured light, making it appear as a void within the storm. The deck was reinforced with metallic plating that crackled with residual electricity, and sail-like structures extended from the sides—but these weren’t cloth. They were condensed storm clouds, rippling with internal lightning, somehow providing thrust and lift.

The most striking feature was the perpetual weather system surrounding it. The ship existed within its own localized tempest—clouds churned above and below, lightning arced between designated rods along the hull, and rain fell in controlled patterns that never touched the deck but created a defensive curtain around the vessel. The thunder was omnipresent, a deep bass rumble felt in your bones rather than just heard.

At the prow, a figurehead of sorts—a massive lightning bolt frozen in stone, glowing with pulsing blue energy. At the stern, exhaust ports expelled not smoke but concentrated wind and mist, leaving a trail of storm clouds in the ship’s wake.

The deck was spacious, with multiple levels visible through reinforced glass domes. Northern could see the interior through these transparent sections—navigation chambers, crew quarters, cargo holds, all protected by the storm outside yet untouched by it.

As the transformation completed, a ramp of solidified cloud extended from the hull to the beach where Northern stood, stable despite its ethereal appearance.

Northern walked forward slowly, his steps measured. He placed a hand on the cloud-ramp and felt it hold his weight perfectly—solid as stone but crackling with static energy.

He stepped aboard.

The moment his foot touched the deck, the storm sang. Thunder became rhythmic, almost melodic. Lightning danced in patterns rather than striking randomly. The rain curtain pulsed like a living thing. The ship was welcoming its master.

Northern walked to the bow, his hands gripping the reinforced railing. The view was spectacular—the dark sea below, the star-filled sky above, and all of it framed by the swirling storm that moved with the ship.

He could feel the speed potential thrumming through the vessel. The wind propulsion system, the weather manipulation that could clear paths or create obstacles, the lightning defenses that would obliterate anything foolish enough to attack.

Northern’s fingers drummed against the railing, his gaze fixed on the horizon. ”Aoi.” His voice cut through the wind without effort. ”What’s the maximum speed?”

[Thunderhead Dreadnought can achieve speeds of 400 km/h in optimal conditions. Storm propulsion eliminates most air resistance. Weather manipulation can create favorable wind conditions regardless of natural weather patterns.]

A wolfish grin spread across Northern’s face. ”And the defensive capabilities?”

[Lightning Grid Defense: Automated counter-strikes against aerial threats. Storm Curtain: Physical and magical projectiles are dispersed by wind and rain before reaching the hull. Thunder Pulse: Sonic disruption field can disable pursuit or disorient attacking forces. Weather Dominance: Local weather manipulation extends 2 kilometers in all directions—can create fog, storms, or clear skies as needed.]

”Perfect.” Northern’s eyes gleamed.

He turned, looking back at the interior through the nearest glass dome. The captain’s chamber lay at the heart of the ship—a circular room with windows offering a 360-degree view, navigation crystals embedded in the floor, and control mechanisms that responded to his will even from here.

Northern raised his hand. The storm responded instantly. Clouds parted ahead of the ship, creating a clear corridor through the sky. The sails of condensed storm clouds billowed, and the Thunderhead Dreadnought began to rise, lifting smoothly from its position above the beach.

Lightning crackled along the hull in rhythmic patterns, beautiful and deadly. Thunder rolled like drums of war. The rain curtain shimmered with reflected moonlight.

Northern stood at the bow, his black coat billowing in the wind his own creation generated, his azure eyes fixed on the distant horizon.

”Let’s go find my parents.”

The words were soft, but the Thunderhead Dreadnought surged forward as if in response, leaving a trail of storm clouds and echoing thunder in its wake, carrying its creator toward the Central Plains.

Behind him, the beach fell silent once more, save for the scorch marks on the sand and the lingering scent of ozone—the only evidence that something extraordinary had just occurred. Evidence, and the witnesses who had watched a mighty airship of storm suddenly materialize and launch into the night sky.

Princess Rehema and Lady Henai had witnessed it all. Rehema had rushed outside, disturbed—this was the last night of the year, there shouldn’t be any storm this intense. Instead, she’d emerged to see a more intimidating version of the tower transforming into an airship.

Throughout the entire process, her mouth hung open. She couldn’t process what she’d just witnessed. The airship had the military power to lay siege to any kingdom singlehandedly.

She’d been observing the tower they’d resided in, thinking it was already a formidable defensive keep. And all of it belonged to her brother.

Her brother was a literally a walking military power.

A subtle frown creased her sharp, beautiful features. She turned to Thalen, who stood with his jaw slack, staring at the empty sky.

Awe rippled through the gathered crowd—faces glowing with expressions that shifted from praise to fear to disbelief. And something stronger. Hope, perhaps?

”Where’s he going anyway?”

Thalen’s gaze dropped from the sky. He bowed, though his movements remained stiff, distracted. ”Most likely the Central Plains... I hadn’t expected him to leave so suddenly...”

Princess Rehema—Nora—frowned, her eyes tracking the distant sky above the beach where storm clouds still churned, bearing the scar of the ship’s passage.

”I don’t understand this boy... first he ignored me, now he takes off on his own.”

Lady Henai’s fingers curled into a fist at her side. ”It must be because of his parents...” Her voice tightened on the last word, betraying what her neutral expression tried to conceal.

Princess Rehema’s gaze softened as she glanced at her. ”His... adopted parents.”

Henai’s fist loosened. A smile touched her lips, gentle but strained. ”It doesn’t matter, Rey. Those people are all his world knew for the past seventeen years of his life. According to that Sword King, Art would do anything to protect the people he loves.”

The Princess straightened, her eyes lingering on the horizon where the last traces of lightning still flickered.

”Oh well then, let’s go after him. Makes things easier.” She spun toward Lady Henai. ”And you’re coming with us, Aunty.” Then to Thalen. ”You too!”