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I Can Copy And Evolve Talents

The convolution of worlds are govern by a set of gods, each god is given a world to rule and there can be skirmishes between them – as a result of one between Nexus, the god of trickery and a senile old hag Elliot reincarnated into Ul’Tra-el by mistake. Ul’Tra-el is a world that grew a voice, because of this voice, it began to take a different path from other worlds -- it was filled with a core anomaly – rifts. Dimensions began to leak into each other, vomiting outrageous monsters. In response or as an auto-correction to such anomaly, talents were awakened in the inhabitants of Ul’Tra-el and they gained tremendous power, for every rift they close down, they were rewarded massively by the voice of the world called Ul. In a hardcore world like this one, our MC (Northern) reincarnated as a talentless individual but in the face of a death and a head splitting revelation... ...when all hopes seemed lost. {System Notice} Your Soul cannot take a form Searching for Unique pattern ability for your soul searching... search found. Unique System ability has been found... Unique System Ability [CopyCat] has been gained. Awakening Unique ability... Northern gained a talent copying system! ... Follow Northern through his journey as he becomes the pinnacle of this world. This a story about a white-haired boy’s rise from rubbles!! Note: This is an overpower genre but MC does not just start off like that. Even though MC can copy talents he doesn't just jump around copying talents because there's a limitation. However, his rise to strength is depicted and is an experience to enjoy. The first few hundreds would be frustrating to follow because MC is weak but that makes the experience all the more interesting when MC finally gets freaking strong and starts wiping the floor with everyones asses.

RighteousFilth · แฟนตาซี
Not enough ratings
676 Chs

The Stranger [Part 2]

On the roof of one of the prestigious buildings lined in a linear array, stood a man. His presence caused a sudden stillness in the atmosphere.

There was not a single noble below who did not know him.

He stood bare-chested, unbothered by the arrogant winds that swept through the air in the aftermath of the powerful flood.

His muscular form seemed carved from a relentless pursuit of strength.

His torso was a tapestry of scars, each one a testament to battles fought and won, a story told in flesh rather than words.

The hard lines of his abdomen, the powerful curve of his shoulders, and the unyielding strength in his arms all spoke of a life forged in discipline and hardship.

His hair, white and resembling the sky on a bright day, was tousled by the wind, framing a face marked by intensity.