I Can Copy And Evolve Talents-Chapter 782: Lurking Dangers

But none of that truly concerned him.

The point was simple—this event, this feat, would carve a reputation for him. One so undeniable that overtaking the student council would be easier than ever.

A Sage, terrifying and dangerous, standing at the helm of the academy’s highest student authority—what greater honor was there?

But he wasn’t naive.

This revelation, this monumental shift, would ripple outward, stirring reactions he could not yet predict.

And yet, in the grander scheme of things…

Everything still existed within his control.

And why go through all the trouble?

’Just a kind gesture for the man who sent me into a hellscape.’

That was all.

He wanted to stand atop everything Rughsbourgh had built, to be the first face the man saw upon his return.

It was just a kind gesture.

A poetic one.

And yet… this? This was more important than even that.

Which was why he chose to go for it.

And so far, the journey has proven to be far more interesting than expected.

Perhaps, by its end, he would find something different—something he had never possessed before.

Something that would begin to change him.

A sigh finally slipped past his lips as he turned his gaze toward the girl.

"Why else?" he mused, his voice calm yet weighted.

"To find passion."

Roma jolted slightly, her mind yanked back to the words they had exchanged on the day the mercenaries died.

Her breath hitched. She lowered her head, heat rising to her face, covering it in quiet embarrassment.

Northern’s voice crawled out again—measured, even. Continue reading on novelbuddy

"What about you?"

She tensed.

"Of all people, you should be the last person on this voyage."

His gaze sharpened.

"And then there’s the fact that you were sneaking around the departure site the day before."

A pause.

"So you’re definitely up to something."

His eyes bore into her, unabated.

"What is your reason for going to Lithia—despite the dangers it holds?"

She was silent for a few moments, her fingers tracing slow, absent-minded circles over the wooden crates beneath her. Then, softly, her voice slipped through the still air—graceful, deliberate.

"Do you know what’s in these crates?"

Northern’s gaze flicked in her direction, then toward the crates she sat upon, before dismissing both with a glance away.

"Don’t know. Don’t care."

Roma let out a soft smile, her expression unreadable.

"It’s amazing how you can afford nonchalance," she murmured. "People like us… we’re not granted such a luxury."

Northern raised a brow.

"People like us?" he echoed, his tone edged with curiosity. "What category of people am I supposed to belong to?"

Roma closed her eyes for a brief moment, inhaling as if steadying herself. When they reopened, they held something different—an unwavering, strange resolve.

"I want to be more honest with you," she said. "There’s a secret I’ve been—"

Before she could finish, the ground lurched beneath them.

A deep, guttural tremor rumbled through the earth, so massive that even the Beast of Burden vibrated beneath their feet.

Northern shot up, his entire posture shifting in an instant. His gaze snapped forward, sharp and assessing.

The silence that had rested over the caravan shattered.

All around them, travelers stirred—some rising, others glancing about with wary expressions, uncertainty flickering through their eyes.

Roma moved beside Northern, scanning the area, her shoulders tensed. But no matter how much she looked, there was nothing.

Nothing she could see, at least.

Yet Northern remained focused, his narrowed eyes slicing through the distance, as if perceiving something beyond her comprehension.

She frowned, narrowing her own gaze, trying to force her sight deeper into the dim horizon. But in the end, she gave up.

Turning toward him, she asked:

"What caused the tremors? Are you seeing something?"

Northern didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he knelt, pressing his hand against the Beast of Burden’s thick hide.

The response was immediate.

The creature’s muscles coiled beneath his palm, its hooves hammering the ground faster. Its speed surged—not enough to rival a true speed-based mount, not even close to a horse from the mundane world before this one, but…

It meant something.

Roma stirred uneasily, her frown deepening.

"Hey, Rian… I wo—"

Northern stood abruptly, arms folding across his chest.

He looked at her.

And in that instant, her words died in her throat, retreating with a sudden swallow.

Then, his gaze swept past her, toward the rest of the travelers.

"Something big is coming."

As if answering his words, the tremor struck again—this time, stronger.

The entire caravan shook.

A ripple of fear spread through the group, faces paling, hands gripping whatever they could for balance.

Roma’s voice was tight when she spoke again.

"When you say something…" Her breath hitched. "What exactly are we talking about?"

She swallowed.

"What kind of monster?"

Northern stretched both arms overhead, his muscles flexing as he twisted his torso sideways, easing the tension from his body. Then, with a glance at Roma, he offered a small, knowing smile.

"It’s quite a big one," he mused, his tone almost casual. "Not as dangerous as the last… so I’ll go take care of it."

He paused.

For a moment, his gaze drifted, unfocused. Something flickered in his expression—subtle, yet telling.

Then, a frown creased his features.

His attention snapped toward the travelers.

"Is the influx of monsters usually this insane?"

The woman among the Drifters responded first, her voice steady, measured.

"Not usually, Sir Sage. In fact, things were far more subdued in this area… until recently."

Her eyes darkened with memory.

"We started noticing something strange—monsters moving in the same direction. Then, one day, a horde overran our town."

She exhaled, the weight of loss pressing into her words.

"We lost the thousands… and the rest of us…We lost them to the Shadow Storm."

Northern’s gaze lingered on her, studying her closely. A beat of silence passed before he spoke.

"So that means…" his voice trailed, but his conviction didn’t.

"Something is definitely wrong."

"Yes, Sir."

The voice that followed belonged to the tattooed Drifter.

He nodded grimly before continuing, his hands moving expressively as he spoke.

"Usually, field monsters are aggressive, but disorganized. They lack the coordination monsters exhibit inside a rift."

He shook his head.

"Different species of monsters shouldn’t be moving together. It goes against every instinct they have. I’ve never seen it happen before—not like this."

Northern studied him.

The man’s words carried certainty, but more than that, they carried fear—not the kind that clouded judgment, but the kind that came from witnessing something unnatural.

As he listened, Northern’s fingers drifted to his chin, his touch slow, deliberate.

A sage’s grace.

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A warrior’s contemplation.

And in the silence that followed, the weight of an undeniable truth settled over them all.

Something was coming.

Something far worse than just a stray monster.