My Talent's Name Is Generator

We didn’t slow as the capital came into view, the scale of it rising ahead of us through the thinning clouds while the vultures cut forward in steady motion, their wings beating against the wind as the city revealed itself layer by layer, not just larger than the cities we had taken so far but different in presence, as if it had been prepared long before we ever set foot in this province.

The red dome surrounding it became visible as we descended, a smooth, translucent barrier that curved over the entire city, faintly pulsing with a low glow that made the space inside feel sealed off rather than simply protected.

We brought the vultures down just outside its boundary, landing in a wide clearing where the ground had been flattened unnaturally, and the moment my feet touched the surface I felt the difference, not resistance exactly but a pressure that hinted at something watching from within.

The sight ahead of us came into full view then, stretching across the approach to the dome in perfect formation, twenty-one figures standing motionless in evenly spaced rows, each one towering close to twelve feet in height, their bodies constructed from gold-toned metal that reflected the dim light in uneven patterns, their frames thick and heavy and in each of their hands rested a massive sword that looked less like a weapon and more like a slab of sharpened metal meant to crush rather than cut.

Knight stepped down beside me, his eyes narrowing slightly as he took them in. ”That’s... not subtle.”

”They’re not meant to be,” Lyrate said quietly, her gaze fixed forward.

For a brief moment, nothing moved.

Then all at once, the visors on their faces lit up, thin vertical lines of red igniting in perfect synchronization, the glow cutting through the stillness as a low hum passed through the formation, and before either of us could react further, a distortion formed in the air directly in front of them.

It began as a blur, a faint ripple that gathered into shape without ever becoming fully clear, a projection stabilizing just enough to suggest a figure without revealing detail, its edges shifting constantly as if it existed slightly out of alignment with the space we stood in.

When it spoke, the voice didn’t come from a single point but from the space itself.

”Greetings.”

The distortion shifted slightly, as though acknowledging us individually.

”I am Goldius, Sovereign of Fortune, Arbiter of Prosperity, and one who observes the flow of outcomes across worlds.”

Knight let out a quiet breath beside me. ”That’s a long introduction.”

I didn’t take my eyes off the projection. ”What do you want?”

”What I want,” Goldius replied, the tone unchanged, ”is not conflict for its own sake, but alignment with those who show... potential.”

”You have moved quickly,” he continued, ”far more quickly than most who are placed in such circumstances, and that alone marks you as worthy of consideration.”

I shifted my grip on the axe slightly.

”Consideration for what?”

”For elevation,” he said, as though the answer should have been obvious. ”For opportunity. For a place within a structure that rewards strength rather than wastes it.”

Lyrate let out a faint, unimpressed breath. ”You mean serving under you.”

”I mean,” Goldius corrected smoothly, ”joining a system that already governs far more than what you currently see. Power does not exist in isolation, and those who understand that tend to rise far beyond those who attempt to stand alone.”

I tilted my head slightly, considering his words without interrupting him, letting him continue.

”You have two paths,” he went on. ”One leads to resistance, conflict, and eventual collapse under forces you cannot yet measure. The other leads to growth, stability, and access to resources that would otherwise remain beyond your reach.”

Knight glanced at me. ”He’s offering us a job.”

”A very well-compensated one,” Goldius added, as if that clarified everything.

I let out a quiet breath, then looked directly at the shifting projection. ”And in return?”

”In return,” he said, ”you align with us. You act where directed, you influence where required, and in time, you are elevated beyond the limitations of your current state.”

Lyrate’s expression didn’t change, but her voice carried a sharp edge when she spoke. ”So we fight your battles and call it growth.”

”You benefit from them,” Goldius replied. ”There is a difference.”

”And if we refuse?” I asked.

The projection stilled slightly.

”Then you remain as you are,” he said, ”and you will find that the world you are attempting to take will not remain as accommodating as it has been so far.”

A faint smile formed on my face.

”I was wondering when that part would come.”

Knight chuckled softly under his breath.

I shifted the axe from my shoulder, letting it rest more firmly in my grip as I stepped forward slightly, the field around me pressing outward in response.

”You’re offering power,” I said, my gaze fixed on him. ”But it comes with a leash.”

Goldius didn’t deny it.

”All power does.”

I shook my head once.

”No,” I said. ”That’s where you’re wrong.”

The energy around me stirred slightly as I continued.

”Power that depends on someone else isn’t power,” I said, ”it’s borrowed.”

The distortion flickered faintly, though the voice remained steady.

”You speak from inexperience.”

”Maybe,” I replied, a faint grin pulling at the corner of my mouth. ”Or maybe I just don’t like the idea of kneeling.”

”If I’m going to stand at the top, I’d rather be the one sitting there.”

Knight let out a short laugh. ”Yeah, that sounds about right.”

Lyrate didn’t speak, but there was a faint satisfaction in her expression.

The projection remained still for a moment longer. Then Goldius spoke again, his tone no longer persuasive, but colder, more distant.

”A predictable answer.”

The distortion began to fade slightly.

”Very well,” he said. ”Then consider this your final opportunity declined.”

The red glow in the puppets’ visors intensified.

”You will find that opposition carries consequences.”

The projection vanished. The moment it did, the formation of the metal puppets moved in perfect synchronization as the front line stepped forward, their massive frames shifting with a weight that carried into the ground beneath them, each step heavy, the swords in their hands lifting in unison as they advanced.

I didn’t wait.

Radiant Drive surged through me as I moved first, closing the distance before their formation could fully adjust, the axe rising as I entered their range, the field around me pressing outward as I stepped into them.

The first strike came from the left, a massive blade cutting downward in a heavy arc that carried enough force to split the ground if it landed cleanly, but I shifted just enough to let it pass, the edge grazing past me as I stepped inside its range and brought my own weapon across, the impact ringing out as metal met metal before the force carried through, pushing the puppet back a fraction.