My Talent's Name Is Generator

I stood up and scanned our surroundings.

Steve was still Level 7, and to level up, he’d need to take down a good number of Level 7s and a few Level 8s.

The area around the mount was already thinned out from my earlier rampage. If we wanted stronger targets, we’d have to move closer to the checkpoint.

I turned to Steve.

“You ready?”

He rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck.

“Yeah.”

I glanced up at the sky. The dark clouds rumbled, and the rain remained relentless, drumming against my skin.

Without another word, we dropped down from the mount and started making our way toward the checkpoint.

As we moved, I activated my talent, letting my heart absorb energy and generate Essence.

I scanned the battlefield, locking onto a Level 8 tree troll.

I took off toward it, Steve close behind me.

I sprinted toward the Level 8 tree troll, my footsteps splashing against the soaked ground.

Steve kept pace beside me, his sword gripped tightly in his right hand. His left arm hung limp, wrapped in bandages, a reminder that he couldn’t afford to take a direct hit.

“We’ll do this quick,” I said.

“No complaints here,” he replied, his eyes locked on the troll.

The creature noticed us and let out a guttural roar, its bark-like skin glistening with rain. It raised its wooden arms, and swung at me in a wide arc.

I surged forward, ducking under the first swing, and slammed my fist into its side. A deep crack spread across its torso as the impact made it stagger.

“Go!” I shouted.

Steve dashed past me, blade flashing. He slashed at the troll’s leg, slicing into the rough exterior but not cutting all the way through. It bellowed in rage and twisted toward him.

I grabbed its outstretched arm and yanked, throwing it off balance.

“Steve, high or low?”

“Low,” he called out.

I nodded and hooked my foot behind its knee, then drove my fist into its chest, forcing it to stumble backward.

As soon as it fell to one knee, Steve darted in and slashed at its exposed neck. The troll snarled, trying to swat him away, but I stepped in and caught its other arm mid-swing, gripping it tight.

“Finish it!”

Steve didn’t hesitate.

He adjusted his grip and plunged his sword deep into the troll’s throat. A wet, splintering sound filled the air as the creature gurgled, its movements slowing.

I twisted its arm and slammed it down into the mud. Steve yanked his sword free, and with one final thrust, drove it through the troll’s skull.

The creature let out a final groan before collapsing.

Steve exhaled heavily and wiped the rain from his face.

“Well, that was fun.”

I cracked my knuckles.

“We’ll get plenty more practice.”

He huffed a laugh.

“Yeah, and next time, maybe I’ll have two working arms.”

I smirked.

“Don’t get too greedy.”

The rain kept falling, but the fight had warmed me up.

I looked toward the checkpoint.

“One down. Let’s keep going.”

I pushed forward toward a group of Level 7s nearby.

The first one barely had time to react before I crashed into it, hoisting it up and slamming it into another. Both crumpled from the impact.

Steve followed up immediately, his sword flashing as he slashed their throats in one clean motion before falling back in step with me.

And just like that, we tore through every Level 7 and 8 in our path.

I kept the pace relentless, crushing, tossing, and breaking anything that got in the way, while Steve moved like a shadow beside me, delivering precise finishing strikes.

Then I heard him call out from behind.

“I leveled up.”

I stopped, my fingers still wrapped around the throat of a struggling Level 8. Without hesitation, I crushed its left arm and flung it toward Steve.

“Finish it off.”

Steve caught his breath, nodded, and ended it with a swift slash to the neck.

Watching him fight reminded me why he had chosen a thin, sharp longsword during training.

It wasn’t because of any deep, philosophical reason, it was because he was lazy. He wanted to end fights with as little effort as possible. That meant learning how to efficiently target the throat and joints, making every slash count.

He was a dexterity-plus-strength fighter—move fast, strike with precision, and finish the fight before it could drag on.

In stark contrast, I just wanted to smash things until they stopped moving.

“How do you feel?” I asked, wiping the rain from my hair.

Steve rolled his shoulder.

“Okay. I put three points into Constitution—the effect should kick in soon.”

He exhaled and glanced at me.

“What’s next? Do we go for the checkpoint, or deal with those two first?”

I turned my gaze toward the checkpoint.

Three Level 9 golems. Three Level 9 trolls. And one Level 10 from both sides.

The strongest force of the Abominations stood between us and the reward.

Compared to the Abominations, those two were… weak.

“We’re going for the checkpoint,” I said, rolling my shoulders. “Let’s see if they have the guts to come after us then.”

Steve exhaled and nodded.

“Fair enough.”

“How do you wanna do this?” Steve asked.

“I’ll leave the trolls below level 9 to you. Everything above level 8, including all the golems, is mine.”

Steve nodded without hesitation.

I checked my Essence.

10/10.

Finally.

I allocated 8 points to Strength, temporarily raising it to 38, then activated [Psynapse Boost].

The world sharpened in an instant, but more than that, I felt the surge within me.

The raw power from the added Strength coursed through my body, making my muscles coil like compressed springs. My grip tightened, my stance solidified, and my entire being thrummed with energy.

I grinned.

My legs bent, and I shot forward, plowing through the trolls in my path. Limbs cracked, chests caved in, each strike clearing the way for Steve, who followed behind, swiftly finishing off anything I left standing.

Then, I reached my first real opponent, a Level 9 Golem.

Rain pounded against my skin, streaming down my face as I locked eyes with the level 9 golem before me. My fists clenched, the power coursing through me, making my muscles feel dense and controlled.

This was my first time adding such a high amount of strength at once, and the difference was staggering.

The golem moved first, swinging its massive stone arm down at me.

‘Too slow.’

I stepped forward instead of dodging, meeting its attack head-on. My fist shot up, colliding with its descending arm.

Crack!

A deep fracture split through its limb on impact, stone crumbling like brittle clay. The force from my punch traveled through its body, making it stumble backward.

I didn’t stop.

I pushed forward and delivered an uppercut straight into its chest. My knuckles sank deep into the stone.

Boom.

The golem exploded into rubble.

One down.

I rushed toward the second level 9 golem.

It swung at me, but everything felt slow—especially the golems.

I sidestepped its blow at the last second, letting the massive arm crash into the ground, sending mud and debris flying.

Before it could recover, I drove my heel into its knee, shattering its leg at the joint. It collapsed, and I immediately followed up by slamming my fist into its head with every ounce of force my body could muster.

The golem’s head exploded, and its body crumbled at my feet.

Two down.