My Talent's Name Is Generator

Theras saw them, and his expression darkened.

The three figures did not hesitate. They moved together in perfect synchronization, their black blades rising and falling in seamless arcs that targeted different points across Theras’s body. One slash aimed for his neck, precise and lethal. Another descended toward his spine. The third cut diagonally across his chest, its trajectory calculated to divide him completely.

The speed of their movement surpassed conventional perception. Even with Node 3 active and my Psynapse fully engaged, I struggled to follow the exact path of their blades.

Theras reacted instantly.

His hand shot forward, and Essence surged from within him, condensing into a shield directly in front of his body.

The swords struck.

The impact did not produce a explosion. Instead, the air itself fractured as the opposing forces collided, their interaction creating a distortion that spread outward in sharp ripples. The shield held, but its surface warped visibly under the pressure.

“Not so strong.”

Amun’s voice came from behind him.

He had already moved. One instant he stood in front, and the next he existed directly behind Theras, his hand extending forward with calm inevitability. He placed his palm gently against Theras’s back, the contact almost casual.

There was no flash. No surge of energy. No visible release of power.

And yet the effect was immediate.

Theras’s body began to break apart.

Cracks formed across his body, spreading rapidly through his form as his physical presence lost cohesion. His wings fragmented first, their feathers dissolving into fine particles that drifted into the air before vanishing completely. The fractures spread across his torso, his arms, his face, until his entire body began dispersing into the same fine crimson particles.

But his expression did not change. He had expected this.

His red eyes remained fixed forward, and slowly, a smirk formed on his face.

“I will come for you, Amun,” he said calmly. “My promise remains unfulfilled.”

There was no anger in his voice.

Only certainty.

His form continued to dissolve, his existence unraveling piece by piece until nothing of his physical body remained. Nothing except a single drop of blood.

It floated in the air above Amun’s open palm.

For the first time since his arrival, Amun’s faint, ever-present smile faded completely.

His eyes remained fixed on the single drop of blood that hovered above his palm, and the calm amusement that had defined his demeanor until now gave way to something far more serious. There was no fear in his expression, but there was recognition. Recognition of inconvenience. Of inevitability. Of something that had not ended as cleanly as it should have.

“How troublesome,” he muttered quietly.

He closed his fingers.

The drop of blood vanished instantly, erased from sight as though it had never existed. At the same moment, the three identical figures of Theras surrounding the space dissolved as well, their forms breaking apart into faint particles that faded into nothingness. The pressure that had filled the hall disappeared with them, leaving behind only the ancient stillness of the ruin.

Amun dusted his palm lightly, as though brushing away debris. Then he raised his head and looked at me again.

The smile returned.

“I suppose,” he said calmly, “we finally meet properly.”

He waved his hand.

The hall vanished.

There was no sensation of movement, no distortion, no transition I could perceive. The next instant I found myself seated in a chair. A circular table rested between us, its surface white and smooth. Amun sat across from me, relaxed and composed, as though this meeting had always been intended to occur in such a setting.

On the table sat a small plate holding several sweets, their surface white with faint red streaks running through them.

I glanced beyond him.

The horizon stretched endlessly in every direction. An ocean extended outward without end, its surface calm and undisturbed.

Amun picked up one of the sweets and turned it between his fingers before speaking.

“Let me introduce myself properly,” he said. “My name is Amun Prime. Though I suspect you know me by another name. The Chained Fallen. Or whatever title the System decided to assign.”

I looked back at him and nodded.

Then I said the only thing that made sense.

“Are you stupid?”

He blinked.

It was not anger that crossed his face.

It was surprise.

He placed the sweet into his mouth and bit into it, chewing thoughtfully as though considering the question seriously.

“Why?” he asked calmly.

I leaned forward slightly.

“Why did you include Theras in that trial?” I said. “Did you honestly believe anyone could defeat that?”

He swallowed.

Then he nodded without hesitation.

“Of course,” he said. “If you were already a Saint, you would have forced him into the ground without difficulty. But the System is impatient. It sent you here before you reached that point.”

I scoffed quietly.

“System,” I scoffed.

He leaned forward slightly, his blue eyes sharpening with interest.

“Why?” he asked. “What happened? You don’t like it?”

I considered the question for a moment.

“I haven’t decided yet,” I said honestly. “But it behaves strangely. It forces outcomes. It interferes when it should remain neutral. It makes me question whether it serves the Prime Universe… or something else.”

The memory of the descending finger surfaced in my mind. The golden construct had carried unmistakable System authority, and yet its intent had not been protection.

Amun shook his head.

“It cannot act against the Prime Universe,” he said calmly. “If it could, I would have destroyed it already.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Really?” I said dryly. “You want to brag now?”

He laughed softly.

“I am not bragging,” he replied. “You are alive right now because it asked for my help. Out of everything that exists, out of every being capable of intervening, it came to me.”

He leaned back in his chair, his gaze steady.

“That should tell you something.”

He paused briefly before continuing.

“The System does not make requests lightly.”

His eyes remained fixed on mine, calm and observant.

“So are you saying you are above the System?” I asked.

He shook his head faintly and picked up another sweet, turning it between his fingers before taking a bite.

“I did not say that,” he replied. “I said I would have destroyed it. Those are different things. Pay attention, kid.”

There was no arrogance in his voice, no attempt to impress me. He spoke the words the same way someone would state a fact about gravity or time.

He gestured toward the plate between us.

“You should have one,” he said. “They are very good. They come from my home world.”

I glanced at the sweet briefly but did not reach for it.

He noticed.

“So distrustful,” he said lightly, leaning back in his chair as he continued eating.

For a few seconds, neither of us spoke. The endless ocean surrounding us remained perfectly still, its calm surface reflecting nothing.

Then I asked the question that had been sitting at the center of my thoughts since he had appeared.

“Is he really your brother?”

Amun did not hesitate.

“Yes,” he said simply. “We share the same parents. So yes, I suppose that makes us brothers.”

He paused briefly before adding,

“Although he is not entirely human. His blood is… different. Mine remained pure.”

Hybrid.

The word carried implications I did not yet fully understand.

“Who is he?” I asked. “And why are you enemies?”

His expression shifted into something more thoughtful.