My Talent's Name Is Generator

Chapter 222: The Hunt Begins – Holt Edition

As I sprinted through the dense forest, my perception pushed out like a ripple through water, brushing across every tree, stone, and flicker of movement in the area. I moved silently, each footstep placed with precision. Then, faint signatures flared on the edge of my range.

Three people.

I slowed, ducking behind a thick tree, and focused. The one in front had a confident gait, heavier steps, and stronger Essence flow—clearly the leader. I scanned them carefully.

[Garven Holt – Level: 109]

[Andrew Cook – Level: 87]

[Jung Ho – Level: 89]

A Holt was leading them. That was all I needed to know.

I rushed closer and extended my hand forward. Frost swirled around my fingers, fed by my Essence and shaped by will. With a single thought, I unleashed it.

A wave of freezing air burst from my palm and swept through the clearing like a winter storm. Trees groaned as frost crept along their trunks. The three men barely had time to react before ice engulfed them—locking their feet to the ground, coating their limbs, and sealing their bodies in jagged frost, leaving their heads exposed.

They didn’t even scream. Just shock. Still, but alive.

I stepped into view, my eyes locked on the Holt.

“Billion Ironhart.” Garven muttered, straining against the frost. “You are the prisoner…”

“You’re right,” I said coldly.

Before he could speak again, I dashed forward in a blur of motion.

I reached Andrew first. Driving Essence into my arm, I swung a hammer-like chop straight down onto his frozen neck. The impact sent a thunderous crack through the air—ice and bone exploded outward as his body shattered like brittle stone, collapsing in a broken heap.

Before the shards had even settled, I twisted and lunged toward Jung. My knee surged upward in a brutal rising knee strike to his chest. The frozen armor around him split open with a deafening crunch, and his ribcage caved under the blow.

His upper body jerked backward, snapping with it the frozen bindings—he was dead before he hit the ground.

Garven’s eyes widened in horror. “You didn’t have to—”

“They were just to show I’m not in the mood to play games,” I interrupted. “Now talk. What’s going on?”

He hesitated, his breath fogging in the frozen air. “We were ordered to find you… and the other one. Steve.”

“Who gave the order?”

“Grandmaster Hugh. After you and the other prisoner never returned to the prison—and with a few of the Holt men going missing—they realized something had gone wrong. We were ordered to investigate every report, every lead.”

“And the prisoners?” I asked, stepping closer, my voice low. “Free to roam around?”

He shook his head quickly. “No. They’ve all been confined. No more hunts. Everyone’s locked down.”

My jaw tightened. So they were spooked enough to shut the whole thing down.

“What area are you searching now?”

Garven swallowed. “East. Along the flowing river. We found traces—broken branches, faint trails. They think you might have passed through there recently.”

I nodded slowly, then placed a hand over his head.

“Wait—” he tried to say.

Violet light sparked at my fingertips. A pulse of Essence surged forward—and I crushed his skull with a swift, controlled burst.

He slumped forward, dead.

I stood there for a moment, letting the silence return to the forest. The cold wind tugged at my shirt, and the scent of blood mixed faintly with the frost.

“East, then.”

A soft chime echoed in my mind.

[Level 87 → Level 88]

Only one level gained from the three of them. Barely worth the effort.

I searched their bodies for anything useful—maps, scrolls, communication devices—but came up empty. With a flick of my wrist, fire surged into my palm. Flames roared to life, engulfing the corpses in seconds. I watched in silence as the bodies burned to ash and scattered into the wind.

Turning my gaze eastward, I resumed the hunt.

Oddly, my perception picked up no signs of Abominations in the area. The forest felt too quiet. Too clean.

It only meant one thing—the Holts were out hunting too.

I surged east, weaving through the trees like a phantom. My feet barely touched the ground as I pushed Essence into every muscle fiber, accelerating faster, faster—until the landscape blurred around me. Branches snapped in my wake, and the air tore past my ears like a rushing current.

I covered a vast distance in under a minute before I stopped, my perception flaring out ahead like a pulse of radar.

There.

A flicker, movement a few hundred meters ahead of me. I slowed to a silent crouch behind a tree, narrowing my senses to pinpoint them.

Seven people. All armed. All Holts.

They moved with practiced formation, eyes scanning the riverbank just below. Leading the group was a tall man with a thick navy-blue cloak fluttering behind him. I scanned him immediately.

[Jason Holt – Level 143]

The others fanned out in a loose semi-circle, covering the area like a search team. I checked their levels one by one.

[Level 121]

[Level 134]

[Level 129]

[Level 137]

[Level 126]

[Level 130]

All of them radiated a dangerous aura—sharp, controlled, and coiled like vipers ready to strike. Even from this distance, the pressure in the air felt heavier around them. This wasn’t just any team. This had to be one of the Holts’ elite teams.

But it was the creature in the center of their group that caught my attention next.

Low to the ground, its body was sleek and muscular—canine in shape, but with elongated limbs and pitch-black fur that shimmered unnaturally in the light. Its nose twitched constantly as it sniffed the ground, tail rigid and ears perked forward. It was clearly guiding them.

I scanned it quickly.

[Dras Feather – Level 89]

It was a natural beast, not an Abomination, and judging by its behavior, they were using it to track us.

The lead man crouched beside the creature and pointed toward a section of the muddy bank. The beast barked once and pressed its snout into the soil. A faint growl rumbled in its throat as it began following a faint trail, leading them along the edge of the flowing river.

There were plenty of Holts in the group, but none appeared to be high-ranking or particularly important. Still, the team was strong enough to be a threat, and their leader might know something useful.

I decided to eliminate the group and capture the leader for questioning.

But I had to be quick. If any nearby teams sensed the battle, reinforcements could arrive before I was done.

I sprinted forward at full speed, the trees blurring past me. Just before reaching the group, I launched myself into the air, soaring above them.

Time seemed to slow as I raised my hands—two fingers extended, one from each hand—aiming precisely at the two lowest-level men standing nearest.

I focused my Essence, shifting its affinity to light.

I activated [Absolute] and commanded sharply, “Light.”

A concentrated beam of brilliant radiance gathered at each fingertip, humming with raw power.

The twin beams shot forward with deadly precision, striking both men squarely in the head. In an instant, their skulls erupted in blinding bursts of light and force, scattering fragments of their heads like shattered glass.

I landed silently between their fallen bodies as the others stared, stunned.

My eyes locked on the leader—a level 143 Holt—his expression hardening with shock and fury.

“You are Billion Ironhart,” he shouted.

I responded coldly, “No. I am your death.”

Creation is hard, cheer me up!