My Talent's Name Is Generator

Demons below looked up in shock, their mouths open, their eyes wide. The older grandmasters stared as if they were seeing an ancient legend being written in front of them. Even the injured demons lying on rooftops pushed themselves up just to confirm what they had witnessed.

Primus’s siblings were the first to react. His younger brother clutched his blade so tightly that the hilt cracked, his face glowing with disbelief and pride. His sister covered her mouth with both hands, her eyes trembling.

His mother floated a little lower in the sky, her hands shaking. Tears gathered under her eyes, blurring her vision as she whispered her son’s name. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, overwhelmed with relief and pride.

Dorian stared at the spot where the Phantom had been. His shoulders rose once, twice then he let out a loud, booming laugh.

“HAHAHAHA! THAT’S MY SON!”

His voice echoed across the ruined city, shaking walls and lifting spirits. Demons who had been silent suddenly roared in response, swept up by their patriarch’s pride.

Primus stood in the middle of the sky with his sword lowered, flames fading slowly from his body, breathing hard… and every single demon looked at him like he was a rising star in their bloodline.

He had killed a Transcendent.

Or at least, that’s what they believed.

And their reactions burned the moment into the sky like a legend. The legend of the Phantom hunter Primus.

“He… killed a Transcendent…” one whispered.

Another demon shouted, “Primus! You are a freak!”

Their cheers grew louder and louder until the sky vibrated again.

Primus lowered his sword, breathing hard. His flames finally died down.

Steve walked over and nudged him with an elbow. “You did it.”

Primus exhaled. “We did it.”

They didn’t get long to rest.

The remaining abominations roared in confusion, their master gone. They charged blindly at the Bloodreaver demons.

Primus and Steve both turned immediately, diving into the remaining monsters. Their blades cut without hesitation. Steve struck with lightning-enhanced swings. Primus burned through two at once by driving flames into their chest.

Dorian punched a massive abomination in the chest, sending it crashing into a wall. North decapitated another in a blur of motion.

Within minutes, the abominations were falling one by one. The battlefield turned red.

But not everyone was trying to fight.

Romothese, the Del Rey ancestor, finally saw their plan fail. Flames burned all around him. The Bloodreaver ancestor’s fury still raged in every strike.

He tried to escape again. I froze the space around him once more. This time, tighter, he couldn’t move a finger.

I waved my hand and pulled the traces of blue flame from Romothese’s body. The flames gathered in front of me in a small twisting cluster, flickering like pieces of a dying star.

I watched them carefully.

The Del Rey blue flame was famous for burning the soul, and now I understood why. It carried a faint thread of soul energy mixed inside it. A bloodline trait. Their ability to color their flames came from feeding pieces of their spirit into each burn, changing its nature entirely.

I guided the flame toward my soul space and stored it there, isolating it before it could cause trouble. It would be useful later.

I looked at Romothese who let out a desperate roar. “Who is doing this?!”

The Bloodreaver ancestor didn’t care. He tore forward, sword blazing in red fire, and slammed Romothese down into the ruins below. Blood spiraled around him like a living dragon as he prepared to strike again.

Romothese lifted his arms in a weak attempt to defend himself. His blue flame flickered around his blade, trembling from exhaustion and shock. Orobas didn’t slow down. His roar shook the air.

“I will crush you for your betrayal!”

He dropped from the sky like a falling star, his sword raised high, ready to split Romothese in half. His fire twisted violently around his body, turning him into a burning spear that no demon below could even hope to stop.

He was a breath away from striking when a deep voice thundered across the sky.

“Orobas, stay your hand!”

The shout hit the city like a new storm. A heavy pressure rolled over every rooftop and shattered windows. Even the wind seemed to stop.

Orobas paused mid-strike, his blade still crackling with red fire. Demons all over the battlefield froze and looked up at the new presence floating above.

Gyros, the Envoy, hovered at the highest point in the sky. His aura pressed down on the city like a giant invisible hand. His long coat billowed behind him.

“Stay my hand?” Orobas asked, voice rough and trembling with fury. His body remained wreathed in fire. He looked thinner, but the rage burning inside him was enormous, almost suffocating.

“You want me to let go of this vermin,” Orobas continued, pointing at Romothese with his sword, “who tried to kill me and then attempted to attack my family? I never thought you were so stupid, Lord Envoy.”

And he continued his attack.

Gyros flashed. He disappeared from where he stood and appeared right in front of Orobas, blocking the incoming sword with his own. The clash rang out like steel colliding with thunder.

“You will ignore my command?” Gyros growled.

His aura burst outward, shaking buildings and sending cracks across nearby stone. Sparks flew where their swords touched. The air itself vibrated from the pressure.

Demons all over the city were riled up instantly. The first to react was Dorian. He shot upward and landed behind Gyros with a thunderous impact, sword raised and pointed straight at the Envoy’s head.

Primus followed a second later, flames still flickering around him as he positioned himself beside his father, blade ready. One by one, every nearby Bloodreaver grandmaster and master surged upward to surround the Envoy in a wide circle.

Red flames, blood-essence, and killing intent filled the sky. Every one of them was ready to cut Gyros down.

Orobas didn’t move from his place. He stared Gyros down with murder in his eyes.

“Your command is preventing me from getting the justice my clan deserves,” Orobas said. “So yes… I will ignore it.”

Gyros looked around him slowly, taking in the dozens of blades pointed at him, the fury in every Bloodreaver’s eyes, the burning air. The envoy’s expression finally changed. His posture softened slightly. He lowered his sword and let out a slow breath.

“Can you at least tell me what happened?” he asked, voice calmer now.

I raised an eyebrow as I watched him. The envoy was a better actor than I expected.

Orobas didn’t lower his sword at first. His chest rose and fell heavily, the fire around him pulsing with each breath. He glared at Romothese, then back at Gyros.

“He appeared in my chamber with his blade already raised,” Orobas said, voice deep and shaking with rage. “If I had woken a second later, he would have pierced my neck. Do you call that misunderstanding? He tried to assassinate me, Envoy.”

Romothese opened his mouth to protest, but Orobas’s killing intent surged, silencing him instantly.

“And after that,” Orobas continued, “he fought me the moment we stepped into the sky. Not a word, not an explanation, only attack after attack.”

Dorian stepped forward, flames still flickering across his shoulders. “Envoy,” he said, “the moment the ancestors appeared, Romothese fought like he was covering for the Phantoms. And with what happened today, the abominations, the Phantom reaching our city, only one conclusion fits.”

He pointed his blade at the Del Rey ancestor.

“They helped them. They guided them here. They betrayed the demons.”

The gathered demons clenched their weapons tighter, the air thick with fury.

Gyros finally exhaled, his face darkening as he looked at Romothese.