I Can Copy And Evolve Talents-Chapter 876: True Abysmal Belial

The air wailed as the Abysmal Belial emerged, its new form a paradox: simultaneously corporeal and abstract, like a phantom carved from darkness itself.

Four arms ended in hands that stretched in a twisted, unnatural manner, nearly touching the ground, their fingertips bending light into carnival-mirror distortions.

As it walked, the ground didn't crumble—it vanished, dissolving into fine ash that left strange voids in the concrete floor.

Northern's remaining clones hovered in the sky, their breaths shallow and harsh, all wearing the same defiant, stubborn expression.

The creature stalked forward, leaving holes in the concrete with each step.

They waited in taut silence until the creature glanced up. Its crimson eyes blazed with such intense red flame that Northern felt ice creep down his spine.

Then it shot up.

For the first time, a movement forced open Chaos Eyes and Northern could not still catch up with the movement.

If there even was one.

He paled, sweat beading on his forehead as he watched the creature snatch one of his clones and turn it to ash.

Of course, all Northern's clones possessed nearly his full capabilities, so they already lunged toward the beast. Each activated different talents.

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Fire roared hungrily. Ice spears materialized from thin air, filling the sky like winter's arsenal. Wind howled and sliced through the atmosphere, carving ugly scars across nearby buildings.

All the clones, in the flash of barely a second, descended upon the Abysmal Belial that hovered in the air, a twisted grin etched on its face.

The creature floated motionless, not even shifting its gaze from the empty swirl of ash that had just left its demonic hands.

Finally, it turned its attention to the clones—just as they crashed into it in a violent tempest. Its four arms moved in a hypnotic blur, each parry reducing a clone to cinders.

But Northern had learned. He wouldn't simply repeat the same strategy... or maybe he would, but with his vast arsenal of techniques, he never had to stop experimenting with different combinations.

His clones began to wink in and out of existence, their movements layered like overlapping film reels. One hurled a comet of fire that blazes violently, only to dissolve as the Belial swatted it—revealing another clone behind, slamming an Echo-charged fist into its ribs. The delayed impact detonated seconds later, a subterranean boom that rattled teeth in skulls miles below.

They didn't pause or relent.

The clones fused the terrifying sharp winds of Whispering Gale with Ice spears, conjuring a blizzard of ice lances moving at bullet speeds. The Belial raised a palm—

Sssssssk—

The projectiles charred mid-air, disintegrating into black snow.

Another clone darted between them, wielding Stainless with terrifying yellow lightning that sliced across the air as it swung the blade.

The blade halted as one of the Abysmal Belial's hands lazily rose to meet it.

Then with a simple twist of its hand, Stainless snapped.

Fortunately, it was merely a cloned sword.

The clone grinned and seized the moment to launch itself forward, black flame erupting from its hands.

As it collided with the Belial, the violent impact thundered through the dark clouds.

Only upon contact did the Belial's eyes suddenly widen with realization.

This was not a clone.

The creature had touched Northern, but its decay was taking longer than it had with the rest of the clones.

Northern grinned.

"Bye bitch. Black Lance."

Then he vanished, using shadow step, a void ability that let him disappear and reappear at will.

Its right torso still suffered from sinister flames dancing on its shoulder when the creature suddenly shifted. A black lance of light materialized from nowhere, threatening to split the sky apart.

And just as it appeared, it vanished barely a heartbeat later.

Northern grimaced when he reappeared.

"What? What the hell just happened."

He had never seen Black Lance so ineffective.

Black Lance operated by delivering only cleaves that the target could receive. However, the concept had just failed.

Somehow, impossibly, the creature had momentarily reduced itself to weigh nothing, allowing Black Lance to pass through harmlessly.

The most terrifying part was how quickly it had understood the attack. Northern had never encountered a monster of this caliber!

He grimaced. No time to think. Northern wove his hands in intricate patterns from where he floated. His clones surged forward, shielding him, more materializing by the second.

The creature prepared to move, ready to intercept them all but suddenly froze, unable to advance. It strained against the imperceptibly thin threads restraining it, but the harder it fought, the more immobile it became.

The clones crashed into it with devastating attacks, combining techniques in deadly harmony. The sky erupted in a breathtaking symphony of unusual chaos. Ice bloomed in the darkness, waves of fire roared with the power of dark thunder, wind carved through everything in its path. Lightning descended like divine judgment.

Each devastating blow multiplied through Echo, their impacts separated and uniquely applied by Full Impact's Return.

The clash produced an unspeakable sound—a wet, resonant boom that liquified the clouds. The Belial vanished within a strange tempest that momentarily obscured everything.

Northern watched intently from his position.

From the storm of destruction, something plummeted and smashed into the ground, drawing a satisfied smile across Northern's face.

But the victory was short-lived.

The entire Lithia shuddered.

Fractured earth convulsed, devouring itself as the Belial rose—not healed, but reborn. Its skin now pulsed with volcanic cracks, heat radiating in visible waves that transformed the air into a shimmering mirage. Where it stepped, stone melted into glass. Its laughter echoed like breaking ice, deep and final.

"Come on? Do you really have to make me resort to my second-to-last solution?"

Northern's voice carried frustration beneath his casual tone.

But the Belial showed no concern.

It moved.

It flickered—a corpse-light blur—and a clone imploded, crumbling to ash before it could react. Another perished mid-leap, the lightning in its hands fading to harmless sparks. The creature was evolving, its movements shifting from wild swipes to calculated, almost elegant strikes.

Soul Threads lashed out again, binding the Belial's wrists—but it yanked, dragging three clones into a vortex of decay. Their screams dissolved into static.

Enough.