My Talent's Name Is Generator

Chapter 245: The Art of the Frozen Sword (Patent Pending)

[Billion’s PoV]

I woke up before the first light touched the treetops.

The air was still, the forest quiet—just the occasional rustle of leaves or distant Abominations breaking the silence. I sat up slowly, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, and glanced around. Ana was curled up on her side, her injured wing tucked in tightly. Steve was flat on his back, drooling slightly, one arm flung over his face like the sun personally offended him.

Silver stood a few paces away, completely still. His wings twitched once in acknowledgment, but he didn’t look at me. Always alert. Always watching.

I pushed myself up, rotating my shoulders to loosen the stiffness, then started stretching. Slow at first. Deep breaths. Then the squats began.

Fast. Focused. Efficient.

Each one dropped me to the forest floor and sprang me back up with precision. I controlled my breathing, cleared my mind, and let my muscles fall into rhythm. Five hundred passed in ten minutes. A thousand by the fifteenth. By the time the horizon started to glow, I had hit six thousand.

Sweat glistened off my back, steam curling from my skin in the cold morning air.

I stood up, exhaled, then raised my right hand and bent the surrounding moisture to my will. With my new Psynapse and control of Essence, I formed a small pool near a cluster of roots—clear, clean, and comfortably warm.

The moment it settled, I stepped in.

The water welcomed me instantly, drawing out the fatigue, rinsing away sweat and dirt. I dipped under, scrubbing my hair thoroughly, then surfaced and sighed.

I stayed in longer than I needed to. Probably because it was the only relaxing thing I’d done in days.

When I stepped out, I dried off with a quick flick of fire and pulled on my pants again, leaving my torso bare. I had a tattoo on my chest and my right arm as well.

I sighed thinking what my grandmother would think after seeing them.

Turning to the lump that was Steve, I squatted next to him and flicked his forehead.

“Time to wake up, soldier.”

He groaned, rolled over, and muttered something about sleep being sacred.

“Get up before I tell Ana you were mumbling her name in your sleep.”

His eyes snapped open.

“I did not.”

“Oh, you did. Twice. In song.”

“Liar.”

“Can’t lie to someone who talks in his dreams.”

He cursed, sat up, and reached for his sword.

“How’s your arm feeling?” I asked as I watched Steve get to his feet.

He rolled his shoulder a few times, then gave his sword a testing swing. It sliced through the morning air with a sharp whisper.

“It’s getting there,” he said, nodding to himself. “Maybe a couple more level-ups and it’ll be back to normal.”

“Good,” I replied. “We should wake her up.”

Steve hesitated for a second, his eyes flicking toward Ana, still sleeping peacefully. Then he gave a reluctant nod and walked over to her. He crouched beside her and gently placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Hey… Ana,” he said softly, “it’s morning. Time to get up.”

His voice was so soft—practically a whisper. Sweet. Gentle. Honestly? Embarrassing.

I couldn’t hold it in. “Pathetic.”

His back stiffened at my voice, and I smirked. I decided to enjoy it.

“I’ve lost a dear friend,” I said dramatically, pressing a hand to my heart. “Rest in peace, Steve. Taken from us by softness.”

Another visible twitch ran down his spine.

I kept going. “Why not speak even gentler? Maybe hold her hand too? Or sing a lullaby, baby-daddy.”

Steve stood up with a grunt, turned to face me, and without a word, drew his sword in a single, practiced motion.

The metal gleamed in the early light.

“Billion Ironhart,” he said through clenched teeth, “I’m going to kill you.”

His blade slashed toward my neck—but before it got close, I whispered, “Freeze.”

The space around Steve locked tight like invisible chains, trapping him mid-strike. His body froze, sword raised, caught in the act.

I strolled over casually, leaned in, and flicked his forehead.

“I never thought I’d live to see the day my own brother tried to kill me,” I said with mock sadness. “Truly, I’m disappointed.”

Steve’s eye twitched furiously, but he couldn’t move. I grinned, stepped past him, and knelt beside Ana.

“Hey,” I said, gently shaking her shoulder. “Rise and shine, sleepyhead.”

Ana groaned softly, her eyelids fluttering. Then her eyes opened, unfocused at first, until they locked on me.

“Billion?” she whispered. Her voice was hoarse, but warm.

I nodded, standing up.

“Yes, sir,” I said with a salute and a grin.

She smiled back—and for a second, everything felt alright.

I reached out my hand to her.

“Here, let me help you up.”

She placed her hand in mine, warm and steady, and I gently pulled her to her feet. As she stood, I noticed her wing. It looked much better—almost fully healed. The dark, corrupted patches were completely gone now.

All that remained was some damage near the edges, like a torn sail slowly knitting itself back together.

“When did you get back?” she asked, brushing some hair out of her face.

“Yesterday,” I said casually.

She blinked, surprised. “Wait… how long was I asleep?”

I gave a small shrug. “A full day, I think. Maybe a bit more.”

Ana glanced back at her wing, worry starting to return to her expression. “How’s it looking?” she asked.

I smiled. “That’s what I was going to ask you.”

She spun slightly, trying to get a better look at the limb. Then her eyes widened.

“The corruption… it’s gone?”

“Yeah,” I said, nodding. “I got rid of it. Took some effort, but it’s clean now.”

She looked so relieved that it made the whole thing feel worth it. Then I asked the question that had been on my mind.

“Will the rest of your wing grow back?”

Ana smiled warmly. “Oh yeah, no problem. A few more levels, maybe a bit of Constitution investment, and it’ll be good as new.”

I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. That was good to hear.

Then her gaze shifted over to Steve—still frozen mid-slash, sword suspended in the air like time had stopped.

Her brow furrowed. “What’s he doing?”

I didn’t miss a beat. “Practicing sword.”

She tilted her head, confused. “Without moving?”

“Exactly. It’s called the ‘Art of the Frozen Sword.ʼ” I kept a straight face. “It’s a secret technique. With enough mastery, just standing still with a blade can scare your enemies to death.”

Ana’s eyes widened, and her mouth formed a small ‘oh’ of surprise. “That sounds terrifying.”

“Deadly,” I said with a nod. “Anyway, I made a pool nearby. Want to take a bath?”

Her face lit up like someone handed her a festival gift. “Yes! I’d very much like that.”

I guided Ana to the pool with a dramatic sweep of my arm, like I was escorting royalty. “Your Highness, this way.”

Steve was still frozen mid-slash, and I couldn’t help smirking. Payback for trying to slice my throat.

Once Ana stepped near the water, I raised four tall ice walls around the pool, thick enough to block any eyes—including Steve’s. Then I snapped my fingers and gently heated the water with a mix of fire and Essence, turning it into a warm, relaxing sauna.

She went in, smiling. When she came out later, I dried her hair with warm wind.

Help the book with GTs and Powerstones.

Creation is hard, cheer me up!