How Does The Protagonist In 'I Can Copy Talents' Gain New Abilities?

In 'I Can Copy Talents', the protagonist's ability to gain new powers is both systematic and thrilling. He doesn’t just stumble upon them; he actively observes others using their skills and then replicates them through a unique mental process. It’s like his brain records the 'pattern' of the talent, allowing him to mimic it perfectly. The catch? He must witness the ability in action first—no hearsay or secondhand knowledge works. This limitation forces him into risky situations, like infiltrating enemy ranks or provoking fights just to see a power unleashed.

Some talents come easier than others. Basic physical enhancements—super strength, agility—require minimal exposure. But complex abilities, like elemental manipulation or psychic attacks, demand prolonged observation or even direct interaction with the user. The more he uses a copied talent, the more refined it becomes, evolving beyond its original form. His growth isn’t linear; it’s a mosaic of stolen skills, each addition reshaping his combat style. The story cleverly explores the ethics of his power—does borrowing make him a genius or a thief? The line blurs as he combines abilities in ways their original owners never imagined.

The protagonist’s power in 'I Can Copy Talents' feels like a high-stakes game of mimicry. He doesn’t just gain abilities; he ‘steals’ them through sheer focus. Imagine watching a dancer and instantly mastering their moves—but with supernatural skills instead. His method isn’t passive; he analyzes the talent’s mechanics mid-battle, dissecting how energy flows or how a pyrokinetic summons flames. This makes every fight a learning opportunity, turning opponents into unwitting tutors.

What fascinates me is the hierarchy of talents. Common powers copy quickly, but rare ones—like time manipulation or cursed techniques—require intense concentration or emotional triggers. The protagonist once replicated a healing ability only after being gravely injured, his desperation sharpening his focus. The narrative weaves his growth with moral tension: some talents carry memories or traits of their original users, haunting him with foreign impulses. It’s not just about power accumulation; it’s about identity erosion.

Here’s the scoop: the guy in 'I Can Copy Talents' is like a supernatural sponge. He sees an ability, his brain does a quick ‘download,’ and boom—it’s his. But it’s not foolproof. Simpler talents, like enhanced reflexes or night vision, stick after one glance. Complex ones need repetition or emotional stakes—like copying a berserker mode only after getting punched into a wall three times. The story spices things up by making some abilities ‘incompatible’ with his psyche, causing backlash if forced.

His arsenal grows organically. Early fights rely on brute force copied from brawlers; later, he mixes telepathy with illusion tricks for guerrilla tactics. The cooler detail? Talents mutate when combined. Fire manipulation plus wind control lets him create firestorms. The downside? Overusing copied skills drains him faster than original users. It’s a trade-off: versatility versus stamina.

In 'I Can Copy Talents', the protagonist’s power is straightforward but addictive to watch. He gains abilities by witnessing them, then mentally ‘pastes’ them into his skill set. Physical talents copy fastest—think speed or durability. Mystical ones, like necromancy, require deeper understanding, sometimes forcing him to study ancient texts alongside observation. The story’s twist is synergy: copied powers enhance each other. Ice magic plus thermal vision makes him a sniper who never misses. Each new ability feels earned, not handed out.