I Can Copy And Evolve Talents-Chapter 912: The Fake Student

Northern stood before Nyssira, the hammer slung lazily over his shoulders.

The council president knelt before him, weakened and on the verge of collapse. She opened her roughened, dimming eyes, barely able to lift her gaze to the figure standing in front of her. Her vision was blurry, but not so much that she couldn't discern who it was.

Her lips moved—she seemed to mutter something—but before Northern could catch her words, she collapsed.

The medics, already rushing into the arena as the dust settled, quickly reached her side. They lifted her body gently onto a stretcher and hurried away.

At the far edge of the arena, the opposing student stood watching Northern. His gaze was dark and stern, a sharp light simmering in his eyes. One of his hands was missing.

A heavy silence stretched between them.

Then, two figures dropped into the arena—one landing before Northern, the other before the student.

The man who appeared before Northern was tall and gaunt, clad in a neat grey ensemble that resembled a tuxedo—but upon closer look, it was more like a tailored armor. Scars laced his face, deep and jagged, and his heavy-lidded gaze carried a fearsome weight.

None of it fazed Northern. He stared at the man impassively, fully aware that this was the same individual Professor Heimburger had tasked to monitor him.

And indeed, the man had been doing a handsome job of it, though Northern suspected Heimburger wasn't the only one he reported to.

Northern didn't like him. The man reeked of disloyalty—a dog who could turn and bite its master at any moment.

Still, none of that showed on Northern's face. These were merely his own judgments, after all. He could be wrong.

But deep down, Northern doubted it.

"Step back, student."

The instructor's voice was cold and hard, like stone.

Northern remained silent for a few beats. Then he exhaled slowly, lifting his eyes to meet the man's face.

"Why should I?"

Northern's voice was calm but carried an edge.

"It only makes sense that we end the battle here, doesn't it? He's down two team members. It's just me. If he beats me, he wins. If I beat him, I win."

The instructor's tone sharpened, hard and rigid beneath the surface.

"It doesn't work like that, student. After a match, each participant must be granted a grace period of thirty minutes to rest—whether they fought or not. Not to mention, you standing here right now is a foul that might cost you your precious win."

Northern raised a brow. A scoff escaped him a second later.

"Precious win?"

He let out a low, mocking chuckle.

"I had my victory secured the moment the match began. Everything else since then has been child's play… until this guy showed up."

He paused, his glare cutting toward the opposing student—then snapped back toward the instructor, eyes burning.

Northern continued, his voice tightening with irritation.

"And you know… I'm rather disappointed that even instructors can't see it."

His frown deepened, the words scraping from him like blades.

"Look at him, for the star's sake! That guy isn't even a student of our school!!"

His shout soared across the arena, the echoes whipping through the coliseum like a gust of wind.

For the first time, true attention fell on the strange student.

Students began muttering among themselves, their confusion spreading like a ripple, growing louder and louder until a restless murmur filled the air.

Even the instructors, seated high above, leaned forward—eyes narrowing at the boy below. It was as if a heavy veil had been lifted from their faces, exposing the strangeness they had so easily overlooked.

Still, it wasn't as if they could immediately tell he wasn't a student of Milhguard—but the doubt had been planted, and it was growing fast. Even the instructor addressing the student seemed to pause for a moment, hesitation creeping into his demeanor.

In that brief instant, a black sword suddenly pierced through the instructor's body.

Northern and his instructor both widened their eyes—and in the next breath, they shot forward.

Northern blasted past the scarred-face instructor before he could even react. Yet before Northern could reach the strange student, a sword lifted the boy into the air, carrying him above Northern's head, where he hovered like a blackened star against the dimming sky.

Northern frowned slightly as he looked up.

He wasn't picking himself up into the air as many might have expected. Not this time.

And he knew why.

The durability of this clone was worn thin. If he forced it into flight, it would crumble even faster.

Creating a new clone wasn't an option either—not now. He would simply be cloning the current weakened clone, which was a pointless effort.

His real body, after all, was resting in the Limitless Void.

Of course, there were ways to fix this. He always kept three clones stationed within the Limitless Void, serving as conduits—perpetual pipelines—linking him to the endless reservoir of void essence.

He could pull one of them here...

But it would require—

Thud!

His thoughts scattered as a suffocating weight pressed down from above. The atmosphere thickened—so much so that Northern instinctively snapped his focus back to the battlefield.

The sky was darkening, the clouds turning pitch black.

The strange student stood proudly atop the flying sword, a vile grin stretching across his face, his eyes gleaming with malice.

A violent gale ripped through the arena, the winds screaming as they whipped against anything that dared remain standing.

Chaos broke out instantly. Students scrambled to hold their ground, clutching onto each other to avoid being flung away by the roaring winds.

And amid the storm—

A blinding bolt of lightning descended from the churning black clouds. It didn't simply fall—it tore through the fabric of space itself. Reality split apart at the impact site, and from the newly-rent rift, an ominous blue shimmer bled into the world.

Northern's expression darkened.

So did the faces of several instructors.

The students, though visibly disturbed, wore paled expressions of confusion and fear—yet their horror couldn't compare to those who understood the true weight of what was happening.

A high-tier rift was emerging. Right here. Right now.

Northern stood rooted, staring up in grim shock, when the man's laughter boomed from above.

It echoed across the shattered sky:

"My friend! The main character himself!! This is my opening gift to you!"