My Talent's Name Is Generator

Chapter 463: Club Therapy Session (No Refunds)

Ragnar tilted his head, that bone club resting lazy on his shoulder. His crimson mist curled and twisted like a living thing, licking at the broken graves. His red eyes narrowed on Horun.

”A beast using a sword,” he said, voice calm but dripping with disdain. ”You are a shame.”

Horun’s jaw clenched. He stepped forward, white sword gleaming in the dim light of the cemetery. ”You talk too much.”

Before he could move, Ragnar swung his bone club in a wide arc.

The air itself shuddered. A thunderous shockwave burst out, rolling through the graveyard like an invisible tidal wave.

Shinjo and Sakar had leapt forward to flank him, but the wave caught them mid-step. Their bodies lifted off the ground as if pulled by unseen hands.

Ragnar’s mist thickened and dragged them together in mid-air before slamming them against the ground. Bones cracked. Both men spat blood as they were flung aside.

”Pathetic,” Ragnar muttered.

Horun roared and dashed in, his blade flashing in white arcs. He moved fast, too fast for a man of his size, stabbing and slicing at Ragnar’s head and chest. Sparks flew as the bone club intercepted the blade, bone against steel, yet Ragnar didn’t budge.

”Fast for a sword using beast,” Ragnar said, lips curling into a grin.

Horun snarled, swung low at Ragnar’s leg—only for Ragnar’s massive foot to shoot forward like a cannonball. His heel slammed into Horun’s stomach.

”Urgh!”

Horun folded in half, spittle and blood shooting from his mouth as he was lifted off the ground and thrown back like a ragdoll. His body flew and crossed the entire cemetery before he crashed into the castle wall.

Ragnar twirled the bone club and slammed it onto his shoulder again.

Meanwhile, Roland dragged himself from the crater, coughing, blood dripping from his lips.

Brutus roared and summoned his awakened weapon, a spear and then with Gloria rushed toward Ragnar but Ragnar’s gaze had already shifted toward them.

He opened his palm and the mist swirled violently, condensing at his fingertips. The ground groaned.

Brutus froze as the dirt beneath his knees caved in, as if the world itself was being pulled down by Ragnar’s will. Gravity thickened, doubling, then tripling in weight.

”Ugh... nghh!” Brutus tried to stand, muscles bulging, his knees trembling. The earth cracked under him, a pit forming beneath his feet. He screamed as he tried to resist, but Ragnar’s hand pressed down slowly, deliberately, like a god crushing an insect.

”Bow,” Ragnar said, his voice like thunder.

Brutus’s knees snapped into the dirt, his face smashed against the dry stone. The crater deepened, swallowing him until only his trembling arms were visible. Dust shot up in thick clouds as the force buried him.

”Unworthy.” Ragnar turned away, as if the man was already dead.

Roland staggered back into the fight, roaring with rage as he flew toward Ragnar.

But before he could reach Ragnar, Shinjo and Sakar reappeared from the rubble, bloodied but alive, both striking from either side. One thrust a spear of air; the other launched a twisting strike with glowing claws.

Ragnar didn’t even shift his stance. He let the bone club slide into his right hand, lifted it lazily, and gave it a single swing.

BOOM!

The air itself cracked apart. A black dot snapped into existence right before him, as if reality had been punched hollow.

The ground shuddered. A violent shockwave tore outward, knocking over broken graves and flinging bones through the air like dry leaves in a storm.

And then the pull came. Twice as strong. Everything, rocks, shattered bones, even the dust—was dragged back toward that dot.

Shinjo and Sakar were caught in the storm, their bodies slammed away by the blast only to be yanked back the next instant.

They fought it, their auras flaring as they tried to resist, but it was useless. The force clamped onto them like chains. Along with the debris, both of them were crushed inward, dragged into the swirling dot until they hung there helplessly, suspended in midair like prey caught in a trap.

Ragnar didn’t even look their way. He ignored their struggles as if they were nothing more than insects.

Instead, he stepped forward, his crimson mist trailing behind him, his gaze locked on Roland’s battered body as it still tumbled through the air.

Ragnar blurred and reappeared above Roland’s falling body. His club came down like a hammer on Roland’s back, slamming him straight into the ground with a sickening crunch.

The earth split, dust and debris bursting upward as Roland’s body cratered into the soil.

Ragnar straightened and turned, his eyes narrowing just in time to hear Horun’s furious scream.

Through the raging storm, Horun charged. His sword gleamed as he lunged, both hands gripping the hilt, every vein in his neck straining. His eyes burned with rage, and his strike carved a direct line for Ragnar’s throat.

Ragnar looked at him and smiled. ”Come, little beast.”

The bone club lifted. Their weapons clashed in a deafening crash. Sparks exploded, their shockwaves blowing tombstones to dust. Horun roared, forcing his strength through the blade, but Ragnar only grinned wider. With a single twist of his shoulders, he knocked the sword aside and headbutted Horun in the face.

CRACK!

Blood spurted from Horun’s nose as his head snapped back. Ragnar’s kick followed instantly, smashing into his ribs and sending him tumbling across the ground.

Ragnar spread his arms wide, mist swirling violently around him. ”This is the best you bring?”

Gloria grit her teeth, eyes burning with fury. She raised her hands and began drawing in light. Her aura flared, sparks of golden energy weaving into her palms. The ground shook as her power gathered, a massive sphere of light forming above her head.

”Hold him!” she shouted.

The survivors obeyed. Horun forced himself up again, Roland staggered to his feet, and even Brutus, bleeding from every pore, pulled himself from the crater. They roared together, charging Ragnar from three sides.

Ragnar’s crimson eyes narrowed. He raised his club. ”Come then.”

The clash was chaos.

Roland’s silver glow slammed into Ragnar’s left side; Horun’s blade slashed at his neck; Brutus tried to pin his arm. But Ragnar fought like a storm wrapped in muscle and fury. His club swung in massive arcs, his fists glowing with crushing force.

Each blow bent the air, every swing a shockwave that split stone and air alike. He was everywhere—knocking Roland flying again, smashing Brutus’s chest with his fist, then whipping his elbow back to deflect Horun’s killing strike.

Still, Gloria’s attack swelled. The sphere of light above her head grew brighter, its glow spreading across the cemetery like dawn. The grandmasters fought desperately to hold Ragnar’s focus.

Gloria smiled through her clenched teeth. ”Now die—”

Her words cut short.

A shadow appeared behind her. Smooth. Silent. A whisper of air.

Knight.

His long tail sliced the air like a blade. Before Gloria could turn, it passed clean through her neck.

Her head toppled from her shoulders, eyes still glowing, mouth frozen mid-words. Her body collapsed forward, the sphere of light fizzling out into nothing. Blood sprayed into the dirt.

For a moment, silence.

The others froze, eyes wide with horror.

Ragnar turned his crimson gaze on the corpse, then back to the stunned grandmasters. His grin spread slow and cruel.

The cemetery seemed to breathe with them, the bones groaning, the ground trembling. The crimson mist thickened, swirling around Ragnar like the cloak of a king.

”Now,” he said, raising his bone club again, ”who’s next?”