My Talent's Name Is Generator

Chapter 599: The Beginning

The lord finally spoke, his voice calm but firm.

”What is your name?”

The boy lifted his head again, staring straight at the throne as if nothing in the hall could intimidate him.

”Theras,” he said.

The lord’s fingers tapped the arm of the throne once. ”What is your family name?”

”None,” Theras answered, his face completely blank. No hesitation, no emotion.

”And what do you like most?”

”My sword.”

His tone never changed. It was simple truth to him, not pride or arrogance.

”Who is your favorite person?” the lord asked next.

”None.”

I watched him carefully. Every answer was short, sharp, and honest. There was no fear in him, no confusion, no shame. Only clarity.

One of the figures seated below leaned forward slightly. ”I heard you were captured multiple times. Always causing trouble. Why?”

Theras didn’t blink. ”I don’t like being insulted.”

”Why would they insult you?” the lord asked with a hint of curiosity.

”I am not pure blood.”

”Is that bad?”

”That’s what I understood.”

”But you don’t believe it?” the lord pressed.

Theras tilted his head a little, and for the first time, something close to a smirk touched his lips.

”Why should I?”

”Because everyone believes it,” the lord replied.

Theras gave a soft laugh.

”They have not proved it to me yet,” he said. ”Everyone who said that to my face has already tested my sword... and dust.”

The lord hummed softly, a long thoughtful sound that made the entire hall go silent.

”Summon Jagur,” he said.

The same man who had vanished earlier disappeared again. And when he returned, another boy stood beside him.

His form was blurry like the others, but I could see enough to tell he was about Theras’s age.

The boy looked up, noticed the throne, and instantly bowed his head.

”Father,” he said.

So this was the lord’s son.

”Jagur,” the lord spoke calmly, ”the boy behind you is an impure blood. He believes we are not noble. Why don’t you show him why you are better?”

A faint shift passed through the hall, but no one objected. No one even moved.

Jagur lifted his head slowly, then turned to face Theras. I couldn’t see his exact expression because of the blur, but his posture made it clear, he felt no fear and no sympathy.

Theras still showed no reaction. He simply moved his gaze from the lord to Jagur, eyes steady, almost bored.

”I am Theras,” he said, as if introducing himself before a simple spar.

Jagur didn’t respond. Instead, he raised his hand and summoned a sword.

The lord’s voice echoed through the hall.

”A death duel. Prove yourselves.”

Every head turned toward him. A few auras flickered, as if some of them wanted to protest, but none dared to speak. The hall remained dead silent.

I felt myself lean forward unconsciously.

Theras didn’t flinch. Didn’t question. Didn’t hesitate.

He simply wrapped his fingers around the handle of his naked sword, lifted it with slow confidence, and pointed the blade directly at Jagur.

There was no fear in him.

Just calm acceptance, almost like this was something that happened to him every day.

I watched the two boys step toward the center of the hall. The crowd of blurry silhouettes leaned forward, their auras tightening with anticipation. The atmosphere felt so heavy that even I, just a spectator trapped in this vision, felt my chest tighten.

Jagur lifted his summoned sword, the weapon glowing faintly with blue aura. He took a practiced stance. His confidence showed in how he shifted his foot back, how he straightened his shoulders.

Theras, on the other hand, simply held his naked sword at his side. No stance. No flourish. His messy white hair swayed a little as he tilted his head, studying Jagur like one might study a tree swaying in wind.

The lord raised his hand and dropped it.

Jagur moved first.

He charged forward with a burst of speed, his sword humming as it sliced through the air. His aura spiked, sharp and aggressive, the strike clearly meant to overwhelm Theras in one blow. The boy swung, aiming straight for Theras’s neck.

Theras stepped left. Just one step. The blade missed entirely.

Before Jagur could recover, Theras flicked his wrist and tapped the flat of Jagur’s sword with surprising gentleness. But the light touch carried so much precision that Jagur’s weapon jolted out of line, the force sending him stumbling forward.

Jagur gritted his teeth, spun, and launched another attack, this time faster. His sword slashed left, then right, then downward again in a tight series of blows meant to overwhelm.

Theras parried each strike with minimal movement. His sword barely made a sound. It was like watching wind redirect water. Every strike Jagur attempted was guided away, dissolved, or simply avoided.

There was no mockery in Theras’s eyes.

Jagur roared and thrust forward with all his might, his aura erupting violently.

Theras stepped in.

His sword slipped past Jagur’s guard before the boy could even understand what happened. The naked blade pierced through Jagur’s chest, sliding straight into his heart with a clean, quiet sound.

I watched Jagur freeze, his eyes going wide with shock. Theras didn’t twist the blade. He didn’t speak.

He just held the boy upright for a single breath, then pulled his sword free. Jagur’s body fell at his feet like the strength had been cut out of him.

The whole hall went silent.But no one moved to save Jagur. Only Theras lifted his sword and gave it a sharp swing to throw the blood off.

Jagur’s body shook on the floor. He tilted his head and looked toward the lord. His mouth opened, and blood slid out as he tried to speak.

”Father,” he stuttered.

But the lord stayed still. He didn’t answer. He only watched as Jagur’s eyes rolled back and slowly lost their light.

Then the lord turned his attention to Theras.

”How do you feel?” the lord asked.

Theras lifted his chin slightly. ”Strong,” he replied.

”Was the fight enjoyable?” the lord continued, his voice calm, almost curious.

”He was far too weak,” Theras said.

The lord studied him for a moment before speaking again. ”I heard you awakened a talent a week ago.”

”Yes.”

”What is it?” the lord asked.

”I don’t understand it,” Theras answered. His tone held no shame. It was a simple truth, like stating the color of the sky.

The lord nodded slowly, as if this answer gave him more satisfaction than any other.

Then he rose from his throne. The hall reacted instantly as everyone stood up with him.

”We will meet again,” the lord said, his gaze resting on the boy.

His body dissolved into light as he vanished, first a soft glow, then sharp streaks of brightness that faded into nothing. For a moment there was only silence.

Then his voice echoed from everywhere at once deep and commanding, as if the realm itself carried it.

”Let the seven realms know that I have adopted a son and his name is Theras Prime.”

The echo traveled through every corner of the hall until it slowly faded.

And all eyes turned to the boy standing over Jagur’s still body.