My Talent's Name Is Generator

My body cut through the sky like a crimson arrow, wings slicing clouds apart as I soared over the jagged peaks of the mountain range. The wind roared in my ears, but I just leaned into the speed, letting it whip through my hair.

Below me, the mountains finally came into view—layered ridges of stone and shadow stretching endlessly in every direction. I narrowed my eyes and expanded my perception. It bloomed outward like a pulse, flooding into every crevice and corner of the range.

And then I saw them.

“Oh, come on…”

The place was absolutely crawling with [Dead Crawlers].

Dozens—no, hundreds—of the abominations, still lingering even after the Deathmist had vanished. Their twisted bodies skittered along the cliffs and ravines like ants. Ugly, mutated, Essence-deprived ants.

I flared my wings and shifted my direction toward the heart of the range. With one last mighty flap, I dove. Air thundered around me as I plummeted, faster and faster.

Boom!

The shockwave cracked through the sky as I came in hot. Just as I was about to crater into the peak, I flared my wings wide, slowing myself just enough to land smoothly on the rocky summit.

I exhaled and rolled my shoulders.

“That felt awesome,” I muttered with a grin, then sat down cross-legged and retracted my wings.

Time to get some work done.

I reached into my core and summoned the shackles. Crimson mist exploded outward in a swirling vortex. A screech tore through the air—sharp, wild, unmistakably Silver—as the massive bird landed hard in front of me, talons digging into the stone.

A beat later, another form shimmered into view beside him. Lyrate. Regal, ethereal, with crimson hair fluttering in the wind and a distant, unreadable expression on her face. Her feet didn’t touch the ground.

And then….the two of them turned and locked eyes.

Instant tension.

Like, silent death-match tension. I could almost hear intense music in the background.

Silver’s wings twitched, spreading out just a little. Lyrate’s fingers slowly curled around the hilt of her sword.

“Hey—hey, hey, HEY!” I shouted, waving my hands like I was breaking up a bar fight. “What the hell are you two doing? Knock it off!”

Both of their gazes snapped to me in perfect sync. If I wasn’t already used to high-stakes insanity, I might’ve flinched.

“We’re all on the same team,” I continued, pointing at both of them like a frustrated coach. “No fighting each other. Got it?”

Silver gave a short, grumbling screech that I chose to interpret as a very reluctant ’fine.’ Lyrate said nothing, but her fingers uncurled, and the killing intent faded.

“Good. Glad we had that talk.”

I stood up and clapped my hands together.

“Alright, here’s the deal. This mountain range is packed with Dead Crawlers—abominations affected by the Deathmist. Mist’s gone, but the freaks are still here. Which means… it’s leveling time.”

Silver tilted his head, listening.

I grinned.

“I want both of you to go nuts—but quiet nuts. Kill everything you can within my perception range, but don’t make too much noise. It’s going to be night soon, and I’d rather not invite every Grandmaster and his grandmother to the party.”

Silver screeched again, this time sharper—and then immediately flapped his wings and shot off the cliff without so much as a glance back.

“Rude,” I muttered under my breath.

Lyrate stared at me for a second longer. Just stared.

I offered a small shrug and a smile.

She didn’t respond. Her body simply dissolved into crimson mist and surged silently behind me, vanishing into the mountain range like a phantom.

I exhaled.

“Well…I guess the first meeting went well.”

The mountain wind howled around me as I stepped to the edge of the peak and looked down at the twisting shapes below.

Dead Crawlers crawling.

I cracked my neck and stretched my arms high above my head, letting the tension ease out of my shoulders.

“Alright then,” I muttered with a grin. “Time for me to join the fun.”

I sat back down—right on the edge of the peak, legs crossed, shirt fluttering in the wind.

The Dead Crawlers moved like shadows through the stone valleys, dozens upon dozens of them. Their levels ranged between 150 and 170, strong enough to challenge most elite fighters. But to me… they looked like they were moving in slow motion.

I blinked, and then I smiled.

That single moment made it clear just how far I had come. Just how powerful I had become.

The first one to land a kill wasn’t me or Silver—it was Lyrate.

From my perch high on the peak, I watched as her misty form descended near the base of a mountain. The crimson fog swirled low to the ground, then churned sharply—and she reformed, standing silently in front of a small group of Dead Crawlers.

They didn’t even have time to react.

Before a single tentacle could twitch, the trees around them came to life. Roots exploded from the earth and branches whipped forward, spearing through their grotesque bodies like javelins.

Each crawler was impaled cleanly, lifted a few feet into the air, and pinned in place like they were nothing more than decorations.

“Damn,” I muttered.

But she wasn’t done.

Even after they were clearly dead, more roots kept bursting from the ground. Dozens of them. They coiled and twisted, piercing the fallen corpses again and again, lifting them higher, almost reverently—until all seven were clustered in the air together. Like an offering to some silent god.

Or maybe a very twisted centerpiece.

And just like that, her body collapsed into crimson mist again and rushed deeper into the valley.

I sat back and exhaled slowly.

“Did turning into a Phantom break something in her head?” I muttered under my breath.

“Because that was… dramatic.”

I wasn’t about to let Lyrate steal all the glory.

Cracking my knuckles, I raised my right hand. The air around me shimmered as space itself rippled outward.

Particles of light began to gather in my palm—slow at first, then faster, more urgent. The glow pulsed gold, spinning rapidly until a ball of concentrated light floated just above my open hand.

I let the sphere grow, just a little bigger. Then I aimed.

One flick of my fingers, and a single, narrow beam of pure light burst forth. It cut through the sky like a razor, silent and precise, and pierced the center of a Dead Crawler’s skull.

A soft pop followed by a puff of smoke. The crawler’s head split apart in a burst of gore and ash. Its legs twitched once, then the body collapsed into the ground.

I watched it unimpressed.

“Not good,” I muttered to myself.

My killing speed was pathetic compared to Lyrate’s. It wasn’t even close.

I stared at the small, spinning sphere of light floating above my palm… then looked at the forest teeming with Dead Crawlers… then back at the sphere.

Nope. This wasn’t cutting it.

I lowered my voice to a whisper.

“[Psynapse Fracture].”

A sudden shift split my awareness. My thoughts forked, clean and sharp—two streams of focus now working in perfect parallel. I felt both minds settle on the task at hand. One locked onto the spinning orb, feeding it more light, more power. The other started shaping the attack.

The sphere swelled, growing bigger, brighter—until it wasn’t a sphere anymore. The surface began to ripple and crack, fracturing into long, jagged forms.

One… ten… twenty…

Arrows. Made of light. Razor-tipped and gleaming gold.

Fifty… a hundred… two hundred…

They kept multiplying, each one trembling with pent-up power.

By the time I was done, the sky above my head was full. Five hundred arrows of concentrated light floated in formation, their tips pointed downward like divine judgment waiting to fall.

I grinned.

“Alright, Lyrate. Try matching this.”