My Talent's Name Is Generator

Chapter 210: The Heart That Hungers

A familiar chime echoed in my mind.

[Level Up!]

[Level 85 → Level 87]

I felt my stats surge again, power flooding through every nerve and muscle.

Without sparing the corpses another glance, I moved quickly. I stripped them of anything useful, taking both storage rings and dumping their contents into one. I slipped it onto my finger without checking what was inside in detail.

Even their clothes weren’t spared. I changed into Leon’s outfit, making sure it fit well enough to pass at a glance. Then I set the bodies ablaze, reducing them to ash. No evidence. No trail.

Once everything was handled, I turned toward the mountain range and moved.

If I wanted real information—something useful—I’d need someone important. Someone with enough authority to actually matter. That meant targeting a high-level operative… someone on the far end of the Master rank.

But I wasn’t reckless. At this moment, I wasn’t ready to face someone over Level 150. That was another threshold—those who crossed it had to have grasped at least a minor law. That kind of comprehension created a gap that wasn’t easy to bridge.

Still, I moved swiftly. My legs barely kissed the earth as I zigzagged through the dense forest, weaving through trees and uneven terrain with precision. My perception remained fully extended, stretched as far as it could go.

I wasn’t going to miss another Holt patrol. If they were here, I’d find them.

After nearly two hours of silent travel deeper into the forest, I finally came to a halt. The trees were denser here, older. The air smelled heavier, thick with humidity and something faintly metallic. I took a breath, grounding myself.

I had a plan now.

To capture a high-level Holt operative, I couldn’t rely on raw power alone. That meant it was finally time to explore the second function of my talent.

I climbed a thick tree and settled high among the branches, positioning myself with a wide vantage point. Hidden by leaves and bark, I opened my panel and focused on the status of the Null Heart.

Null Heart Charge: 840 / 1000 Essence

I was close.

Without hesitation, I activated [Essence Engine].

A soft pulse echoed from within me as the generator core spun to life. It sent a ripple through my internal pathways, circulating Essence more efficiently, compressing it.

I could feel my body shift slightly, adapting to the accelerated influx. Every breath, every moment of stillness, now harvested the ambient energy more greedily.

The world around me dulled as I focused solely on absorbing Essence from the forest. It responded faintly, streams of energy trickling into me like cool water into a reservoir.

Time passed.

And then I was done.

Essence: 90 / 90 (+90)

The compressed output from the Essence Engine allowed me to hold twice the standard amount, 180 units in total. Just enough.

I took a deep breath and scanned my surroundings. The forest remained still. No sounds of pursuit, no flickers of nearby presence. Only the faint hum of distant wind and the rustle of leaves.

Satisfied, I began the transfer.

Essence flowed inward, moving through my chest and converging on the Null Heart. The moment the first drop touched the spinning core embedded in the center of my heart, the tempo changed.

Faster. Faster.

It devoured the energy greedily, accelerating until the rotation became a blur, so fast it looked like it wasn’t spinning at all.

Then—impact.

A tremor rippled through my body. My chest tightened, not from pain, but from something deeper—resonance.

The heart was celebrating.

A wave of jubilation rose through me like a silent roar. My body quaked faintly, as if reacting to something profound. I placed a hand on my chest instinctively, feeling the vibrations beneath my skin. The core pulsed with satisfaction.

The Null Heart was fully charged.

And for the first time, I sensed that it was waiting. Ready for something more.

I recalled the specifics of the Null Heart, particularly the function tied to the Soul Shackle.

Soul Shackle: Anchors a corrupted Bonded Soul into the Null Heart, allowing control and shared evolution.

From that description, I had already drawn my conclusion: a “corrupted Bonded Soul” could only mean one thing, an Abomination.

And if that was true, then it was time I found one for myself and test my hypothesis.

I dropped down from the tree in complete silence, landing with a soft thud on the forest floor. The scent of moss and damp bark filled my lungs.

I stretched once, shook off the stiffness, then moved—slipping between thick roots and low-hanging branches with practiced ease.

I didn’t bother masking my presence completely this time. I needed to draw one out. But not just any abomination.

Several minutes passed as I moved deeper.

My perception swept wide, and within its radius, I sensed movement, two Abominations nearby.

The first was a massive feline creature prowling through the underbrush. Its frame was sleek, muscular, and larger than any natural beast, but its fur was patchy, with rot along its flanks and streaks of black blood trailing from its paws. A faint, nauseating stench clung to the air around it.

The second was a hulking quadruped—likely a bull-type beast. Horns curled from its head like steel, and its back was covered in stone-like plates. From a distance, it looked normal, until you noticed the way one of its eyes sagged unnaturally and the way its breath came in erratic, wet gasps. A sickly aura leaked from its hide, twisting the nearby grass into brittle gray strands.

I passed by both without stopping.

I kept moving, going deeper, until I felt it—sharp, like a spear of pressure through the air.

There.

My head snapped up.

I stepped into shadow and narrowed my gaze.

The creature was once majestic—a Silversteel Hawk.

Its wings still shimmered faintly with pristine, metallic feathers, catching glints of light as it circled above. But the rest of its body told a different story.

Patches of its once-sleek fur along the torso and legs had rotted away, revealing sickly, discolored skin underneath.

A twisted outgrowth curled from the side of its head like a malformed horn, pulsing faintly with dark energy.

And the smell—foul, acidic, and sharp—hung heavy in the air as it descended, circling lower.

[Silversteel Hawk – Level 142]

‘Perfect.’

It let out a screech that tore through the forest. Trees trembled. I didn’t flinch.

The hawk launched downward like a comet, wings spread wide, body a mass of twisted muscle and fury. I braced myself, violet Essence already flowing through my limbs.

It reached me in less than a second.

I stepped aside just as its talons crashed into the ground. Dirt and rock exploded upward. I answered with a tight fist cloaked in compressed air and slammed it into its wing joint as it turned to strike again.

Crack.

The hawk reeled back, balance thrown off. I leapt, twisting mid-air, and brought my heel down on the back of its skull. The impact sent it crashing into the undergrowth.

It screeched again and flapped its broken wings in wild arcs, trying to rise. One wing worked. The other twitched erratically.

Your gift is the motivation for my creation. Give me more motivation!