My Talent's Name Is Generator

Chapter 570: What Is Going On?

My eyes shifted toward Ragnar’s back and when I saw the severed puppet link, I finally exhaled in relief.

But that feeling lasted only a second.

I glanced down at my own arm, and my breath caught. Everything below my left elbow was gone, obliterated by the blast. What remained was scorched flesh and torn fabric, the rest of my robes shredded and blackened. My skin was burned in several places, the pain crawling through my nerves like fire ants.

I ignored it.

With a deep breath, I released the Dominion chain. The violet bindings vanished in sparks of lightning and flame, and Ragnar’s body floated upward, weightless. For a moment, I felt hope, maybe he was finally free.

Then his eyes opened.

Still red. Still hollow. Still wrong.

”What?” I muttered, my stomach tightening. ”Did it not work?”

Before I could even analyze the feedback through my Psynapse, the entire bridge beneath us began to tremble. Metal groaned, and a deafening rumble filled the void.

Then I saw them, dozens of thin chains erupting from the bridge, writhing like serpents as they shot straight toward Ragnar.

My heart thundered in my chest. ”RAGNAR!”

My roar tore through the emptiness. For a split second, his body froze midair, and his eyes flickered. The dull red orbs blinked and then color returned. His real eyes, full of confusion, locked onto mine.

”Billion...?” he whispered.

Shock crossed his face. Then he turned, seeing the swarm of crimson chains hurtling toward him. His expression twisted from surprise, to realization, and then to fury.

”How dare you!” he roared, at the unseen force that had bound him. His aura erupted outward, a blazing storm of defiance that tore through the mist around us.

And then—he exploded.

BOOM!!

The blast of energy hit me like a hammer. Ragnar’s body disintegrated into a surge of crimson mist, bursting apart before reforming into a stream of glowing smoke that shot directly toward me.

I couldn’t even react. The mist slammed into my chest, right where my generator core pulsed, and sank straight inside.

For a moment, everything went silent.

The remaining chains that had been chasing him turned, twisting unnaturally midair, and rushed at me instead but they stopped mere inches from my body. They hovered there, writhing violently, then recoiled as if something invisible was warning them off.

I stood frozen, staring as they retreated, slithering back into the bridge until not a single trace of them remained.

My hand went instinctively to my chest.

At once, my Psynapse dove into the generator core. The familiar vastness unfolded before me, at its center floated the Null Core, calm and pulsing with quiet radiance. Surrounding it were the smaller essence cores of my summons... and among them, Ragnar’s red core.

It was cracked.

A sharp, cold ache ran through my chest. Even through the Psynapse link, I could feel the fractures along the tether connecting Ragnar to the Null Core. Each crack pulsed like a heartbeat, weak and unstable.

I clenched my jaw and closed my eyes, fighting to contain the surge of fury trembling through me. My blood boiled as the image replayed in my mind, Ragnar exploding in a crimson burst. This wasn’t the dissolution of a summon; it wasn’t my command. He had done it himself, an act of defiance, of will.

But why?

What had he seen in that instant that I couldn’t?

I looked at the generator core again, making sure it was still stable.

The structure pulsed faintly, the flow of Essence steady except for one thing, the red core floating near the Null Core was cracked, fractured down the middle like shattered glass barely holding together.

Seeing that it was still functioning, I turned away. My body moved before I could think. I shot forward into the void, my mind burning with a single urge, to tear everything apart.

Ragnar was just a summon, at least that was what I kept telling myself. But as I flew, I felt something twisting deep inside me.

The ache wasn’t only from losing him. It felt like a part of my own soul had splintered, leaving an emptiness that refused to heal.

The link between us might have been made through the generator, but what I felt went beyond a simple command bond. It was grief and rage, both born from a place I couldn’t reach or understand.

The more I thought about it, the faster I moved.

The Essence around me trembled as I sped through the layers of space. Then, without warning, I felt it, a violent disturbance ahead.

The air rippled with power, a storm of Essence crashing against itself. I narrowed my eyes and poured more force into my flight.

When I arrived, what I saw froze me completely.

Thirteen Grandmasters stood in a rough circle, their auras pressing down on the very air.

At the center of their encirclement stood Dante. And among the Grandmasters, I saw one face I recognized instantly—Vynor, the son of Vaelix.

The sight alone was enough to make my hands curl into fists, but that wasn’t what made my heart stop. What made my blood turn cold was the chain.

A red parasite chain clung to Dante’s back, exactly like the one I had seen with Ragnar. The runes pulsed along its length, feeding something unseen. My stomach dropped.

And then I saw Steve and North behind him. Both of them were covered in blood, their bodies trembling from exhaustion. North’s left arm was half-broken, and Steve’s sword was soaked red. They looked like they had been fighting for their lives.

Before I could even call out to them, a roar split through the chaos. A sound like a tiger’s snarl filled the air as Vynor vanished from where he stood and reappeared right in front of Steve. His fist glowed with a dark, red energy.

”No!” I shouted, pushing my Essence to the limit.

I tore forward, space cracking behind me, but before I could reach them, Dante moved.

In a blur, he stepped between Vynor and Steve. He turned slightly, just enough that the strike hit his left shoulder instead of Steve’s chest.

The world shook.

BOOM!

The explosion of power tore through Dante’s body. Half his torso vanished, his flesh and bones shredded apart like paper.

My breath caught in my throat but before I could even process it, the chain behind him pulsed once, glowing with a dull red light. His body began to knit itself back together, flesh regrowing in an instant. The wounds vanished as if they never existed.

Dante’s hand shot out, fingers curling around Vynor’s chest.

”Touch of the Void,” he said softly.

A spatial ripple burst outward. The space around his hand warped violently, and deep wounds tore across Vynor’s body. The Grandmaster screamed, blood spraying as he was thrown backward through the air.

I hovered there in shock, watching Dante’s face. His left eye glowed crimson, the same as Ragnar’s had before, but his right eye was still his own, dark, sharp and aware.

He turned his head slightly. Our eyes met. He blinked once, almost like a silent acknowledgment.

Then, the other Feran Grandmasters roared. Their killing intent surged as they rushed forward.