I Can Copy And Evolve Talents - Chapter 1185: New Tower Models
Chapter 1185: New Tower Models
What thrilled Northern most—the real reason he’d tested the ability with sand—was how devastatingly effective it would prove against minerals.
Sure, it would be invaluable for Alchemy. But Northern’s passion burned elsewhere. Forgery fascinated him far more; this power could birth paradoxical weapons!
A sword both rigid and flexible, yet sacrificing none of its edge. Impossible constructs made possible through precise naming.
Then there were materials. If he studied monsters and replicated their forms—thanks to Demon’s Eyes’ understanding—couldn’t he rename ordinary stone to carry a monster’s properties? Then forge weapons imbued with those very traits.
Wouldn’t that hack the entire system of Item creation?
Northern’s eyes blazed. His grin stretched wider, uncontrollable. His heart hammered with the thrill of experimentation, of forging weapons that defied natural law.
’Damn. Never knew I had this much fire for forgery. Look at me—giddy as a kid.’
He’d always admired the craft from a distance. Getting to this world, learning the art—of course he’d jumped at the chance. But now, with imagination as his only limit, calling it “joy” sold the feeling criminally short.
He drew a deep breath, smoothed his expression, then recalled the Grey water into Soul Forge before continuing his inspection.
The final revelation about naming struck deepest. He could save copied names—store them without needing the forms themselves.
His pulse quickened. “Aoi, can I give out the names?”
[Not at current level]
“Hmm.” He tilted his head. “At higher levels, if I copy a drifter’s true name, can I bestow it on a non-drifter?”
[Correct]
Northern’s lips curved upward.
He pulled up his only saved name.
[Burning Storm]
Wistfulness washed over him as he looked at the name and briefly remembered Raizel and also thought about the other name. Unwriting Titan’s Reckoning to weaken his corrupted clone had been necessary—but it stung nonetheless.
“Aoi, can I recover unwritten names?”
[No. Unwritten names disintegrate into talent fragments]
His brows shot up.
“Oh?” Energy crept back into his voice. “So that’s where those sudden fragments came from. Killing monsters isn’t the only path to talent fragments—I can obliterate names too?”
[Correct]
A brilliant smile spread across his face. Everything was clicking into place. The future gleamed with promise.
“Now…”
He turned toward the Tower of Trammel.
“Copy.”
[Form: Tower of Trammel has been copied at low essence cost due to deep understanding]
[Variant 1: Abyssal Citadel has been created]
[Variant 2: Storm Bastion has been created]
Northern examined both variants.
[ABYSSAL CITADEL]
A deep-sea subterranean specialist with three modes:
Deep Tower: Extends downward with reinforced foundations; anchors into any terrain and creates underground floors.
Submersible: Underwater vessel with pressure-resistant hull; dives to ocean depths.
Burrow Carrier: Underground drill-fortress; tunnels through earth and stone, moving through the ground.
Other notable features:
– Enhanced structural integrity for extreme pressure
– Sonar and seismic detection systems
– Complete concealment underwater or underground
– Darker, heavier aesthetic
[STORM BASTION]
An elemental weather-warfare platform with three modes:
Tempest Spire: Tower surrounded by perpetual storm; lightning rod defenses.
Hurricane Vessel: Warship that generates tidal waves and whirlpools.
Thunderhead Dreadnought: Airship with weather manipulation; creates storms as it moves.
Other notable features:
– All modes control localized weather
– Lightning-based defensive systems
– Enhanced speed
– Constantly wreathed in clouds and mist
Northern’s hand flew to his mouth, hiding his grin. The variants read like poetry. And they’d continue evolving with time—growing even more formidable.
He straightened his expression and gazed at the sea.
“Let’s see… I need to reach the Central Plains to find my parents. Storm Bastion’s Thunderhead Dreadnought should serve that purpose perfectly.” He nodded once. “Aoi, summon Storm Bastion.”
[Summoning Storm Bastion…]
***
On the port, soldiers gathered after receiving their rations of meat.
“Blissful thing, still being able to eat after everything that happened.”
One soldier watched another smack sharp stones together over a pile of wood.
The man beside him unstrapped his metal armor. His voice came heavy, weighted. “Thanks to these people, peace endures…” He glanced toward the cement tower. “Something about it gives me hope. Like as long as it stands, no harm can touch us.”
The first soldier smiled and followed his gaze to the Tower of Trammel.
“You’re right. That thing shielded us from the explosion. A literal beacon of hope.” He lowered his voice. “I heard the man who saved the entire continent from destruction lives there.”
“Ahh! Finally!” The soldier by the fire thrust his fist upward as flames caught after countless attempts.
“Look at this fool, so proud of lighting a flame.”
“Little victories, Vans. Little victories.” The soldier—brown hair ruffled, face heavily freckled, brown eyes bright—declared with radiant conviction. “Who knows? From roasting meat today to setting the world ablaze tomorrow!”
The other two exchanged glances. Then burst out laughing.
“Yeah, sure! Ahhhahhhahh.”
“Dream on… boy.”
They laughed while the freckled soldier turned to roast dinner. But the flames began dancing a little too much.
Wind swept through the harbor.
“What? No! Not my fire!!”
His scream was lost as the wind surged, snuffing the flames. The fire became the least of his concerns.
Dark clouds materialized from nothing, swirling in circular patterns above the beach. The temperature plummeted. Thunder rumbled low and ominous across the sky.
Then lightning cracked—brilliant, blinding—turning night to day for one breathless instant.
And a towering obsidian structure materialized on the shore.
***
The Storm Bastion manifested in its default Tempest Spire mode—a towering structure that seemed to tear through the veil of reality itself. Unlike the elegant, almost ethereal appearance of the Tower of Trammel, this fortress was a monument to raw elemental fury.
The tower stretched ten floors high, but it was the storm that truly defined it. Perpetual dark clouds coiled around the structure like serpents, crackling with veins of purple and white lightning.
Rain didn’t fall—it orbited the tower in sheets, creating a rotating curtain of water that obscured the stone beneath. The thunder was constant, a rhythmic pulse that felt like the heartbeat of the storm itself.
The tower’s architecture was aggressive—sharp angles, reinforced buttresses, and spires that functioned as lightning rods.
Each floor had narrow, slit-like windows that glowed with an eerie blue light from within. The entire structure seemed to hum with barely contained energy, and the ground around its base was scorched black from repeated lightning strikes.
Northern stared up at it, his simple white shirt whipping against his body in the turbulent winds. His blue eyes reflected the lightning dancing across the clouds.
“Beautiful,” he whispered, genuine awe in his voice.
“Alright, transform. Thunderhead Dreadnought.”
