I Can Copy And Evolve Talents

Chapter 46 Warfront [part 5]

A thunderous roar shakes the battlefield as the two monstrous generals collide in a paroxysm of violence.

Night Terror and the lizard hellion unleash bloodcurdling shrieks, drowning out even the cacophony of the surrounding melee.

Onlookers scatter as the generals slam together with the unstoppable force of a volcanic eruption. The earth itself seems to tremble in terror at the titanic energies barely contained within these bloody avatars of war.

As they grapple, veins bulge from straining necks coated in armor-like hide and scale.

Bicep muscles knot as sinewy arms shove against each other with enough strength to cleave metals.

Showers of sparks erupt anytime their claws rake across toughened exterior plates, screeching with the promise of pain to come once softer innards lie exposed.

Beady reptilian eyes bore into four glowing crimson orbs radiating gleeful malice.

Fangs dripping with ropey drool snap repeatedly, brushing scales and patchy fur but unable to find purchase.

These fighters know no gentle sparring, no pulled punches. Every collision signals lethal intent to wholly dismantle the other down to stray sinew and pulverized bone fragments.

Two unstoppable forces channeling the rage of entire armies behind each devastating attack. Neither able to surrender without first experiencing the ultimate agony of utter defeat.

They break apart, chests heaving, yet undaunted. Their disc-flattened pupils narrow to bestial slits as they circle with predatory focus locked on enemy hide.

Chilling bellows raise gooseflesh from all within earshot even over the ongoing tumult.

A split second pause...then the combatants hurtle through the air once more.

This time Night Terror impacts like a wrecking ball, clamping bone-shearing jaws deep into scale and muscle at the vulnerable juncture between neck and shoulder.

Before victorious shrieks fade, the lizard retaliates with a scything slash, opening ribbons of flesh which immediately weep glossy fluid.

Ruthless brutality becoming artistry in their bid to dominate...and desecrate.

Nearby, Northern slips furtively between the forms of warring monsters oblivious to his presence.

Mesmerized by the sounds of the cataclysmic duel raging somewhere ahead, he creeps even closer.

There was something he needed to see after all. From the moment he heard their thunderous growl, Northern had sprang into action, skillfully losing his guardian angel and finding his way to where the growl came from.

Northern flowed between moving mountains of meat and armor while his questing eyes scan the middle distance.

Finally his gaze lands on the epic clash between the generals and widened at the spectacle.

Never had he witnessed such raw, unrestrained power given monstrous form.

They seem more forces of nature than mere physical entities as they grapple and gouge for advantage.

The overflow of energy almost crackles against Northern's skin even at this remove.

He yearned to study their battle dance more closely, to learn the intricacies of combat mastery personified.

Checking that no threats lurk in his immediate vicinity, Northern slippes nearer, ducking behind the bulk of a lumbering monsters.

Between the ongoing chaos and their total absorption in their duel, the generals take no notice of him.

At last the vantage allowed Northern to closely track the ebb and flow of attacks, feints, and counters.

He watched raptly even as his own continued survival demanded peripheral awareness of surrounding foes.

A triumphant roar refocuses Northern's gaze just as the lizard lands a brutal downward slash with knifelike claws.

The unexpected move catches Night Terror off guard, laying open a lengthy furrow from neck to abdomen.

Crimson blood fountains as the general staggers back, vital fluids rapidly forming a spreading pool beneath massive furred feet.

Though merely an observer, Northern cannot deny a swell of strange protectiveness for the four-eyed warrior now at a disadvantage.

'...you can't die here I swear… you are mine to kill'

Without conscious thought he summoned his clone, visualizing it into existence near the struggling Night Terror.

Northern's clone landed solidly between the hulking Night Terror and the advancing lizard adversary, rushing the latter with unthinking urgency meant to forestall the intended killing blow.

The clone's intervention bought precious seconds for the four-

eyed general to regain its equilibrium, but also draws the full brunt of the enemy's lethal focus.

Night Terror gave Northern's clone a vicious cold glare.

At that moment, Northern's eyes widened.

'No way…'

The onyx blade clashed deafeningly against crude claws as the two generals at first saw only an obstacle to crush beneath claws and jaws.

The clone somersaults back to evade slashing talons, springing upright with its teneborous blade at the ready. Crimson blood sank into the cold onyx metal, but no fatal mark has yet fallen.

A sibilant hiss betraying irritation curled from the lizard's fanged maw.

This small interloper had proven unexpectedly resilient, in contrast to the tissue-paper defenses of most small entities.

Dark eyes narrow, recognizing something uncanny in the way the figure moves - utterly silent save for the ring of steel, radiating an aura of whispering shadow. It does not fight like any conventional warm-blood.

As the lizard circles more warily, Night Terror shakes off its pained daze and focused on Northern. At first its hellfire eyes narrow in suspicion.

Few would risk themselves so freely for a monster, especially amidst such a desperate battlefield struggle between warring races—not to even say, the monster probably understood well that what Northern wanted more than anything was also to have a taste of its blood.

Night Terror raised its chin and looked away indifferently. The clone did not respond, or show any emotion in particular, it couldn't even if Northern wanted it to.

The seasoned fighter just stared expressionless. And shifted its gaze as their lizard adversary jumped into a ferocious onslaught.

For the first few seconds of engaged battle with the bipedal lizard, Northern's clone struggled while Night Terror stood and watched as it desperately blocked the bone shattering attacks of the lizard's claws.

But as the clone continued holding its own, countering ferocious attacks with determined focus, a glimmer of curiosity flickered across Night Terror's vulpine features.

It could see the desperation in its attempt to stay alive. One single mistake and he would die. Night Terror's feral face creased into a puzzled frown on four malicious eyes.

Just who or what is this being, and to what end? Even after he almost died by its hand, he was still desperately fighting to protect… why?

A wholly visceral sense of familiarity teased the edges of Night Terror's consciousness…

Monsters were quite easy to fool… a sense of kinship overwhelmed it. And it's eyes gleamed even more viciously as the white haired human desperately warded off the lizard's enormous attacks.

Still cradling gushing wounds, Night Terror nevertheless strode forward to reassert its dominance in this duel.

Behind the grim-visaged mask, Northern shunted rapid-fire battle plans and tactical analysis along the shadow clone's link even as the clone itself deftly parries all fangs and claws aimed its way.

His perception from the clone's point of view felt different, it felt better than the last time.

Undoubtedly, this was probably owed to the fact that he upgraded the talent—not to even say, with the amount of attacks that had slipped past the clones defense, it should long be a pile of dust by now.

But it was still standing with a cold ferality.

Night Terror initiated a wordless rhythm of slash and bite serving to drive their opponent back one step...then another...and another.

Meanwhile Northern observed and calculated, keen gaze marking the tiniest advantageous openings in the lizard's reptilian facade.

The clone lunged forward with uncanny timing, striking weak points and fading away before retaliation strikes home.

They chip steadily at the formidable scales, carving nicks and scratches that soon redouble to more sizable gashes.

Northern instructs the clone which ones to target, maximizing blood loss and fatigue.

They make the hellion bleed out by inches until its movements slow and eyes takes on a dim cast.

United by silent directive, the clone and Night Terror began dismantling their enemy piece by piece.

It may not fall easily, but inevitable defeat now seems assured thanks to their coordinated savagery.

Northern keenly focused all his senses on Night Terror's movement, the way he attacked, its brute ferocity. Blend with the shadows...then hit hard. Repeat until only one remains standing.

Northern's focus sharpened, he concentrated through his own eyes and even through his link with the clone.

That was not something he could do before but he didn't have the time to care for he was busy devouring every move and decision on the ever-shifting battlefield.

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