My Talent's Name Is Generator

Chapter 683: An Absolute Wall

Then came the rifts which have been deciding the fate of our universe for so long. From Grade 3 to Grade 1.

Grade 3 rifts were true war zones.

Transcendent Eternals were fully active here, not merely projecting power but commanding it. Alongside Phantoms and Abominations came legions directly tied to Eternal forces. The natives of the Eternal Universe. Laws clashed openly in these regions, and space itself became unreliable. Entire star systems could be lost if a Grade Three rift stabilized unchecked.

Grade 2 rifts were spoken of with caution.

I had never read full information on one myself.

These were the zones where Saints fought. Where ordinary strategies stopped working and entire law frameworks were bent or sacrificed to hold the line. Losses here were not counted in numbers, but in star systems. Engagements at this level were rare and catastrophic.

Grade 1 rifts were almost mythical for me.

No clear records existed. No reliable descriptions. Only fragments and warnings. What was certain was this: these were the points closest to the core conflict, where the highest powers of both universes clashed directly. Whatever existed there was beyond conventional understanding. These were not fronts meant to be held. They were the rifts which decided whether we will be consumed by the Eternals one day or we will survive.

And we were heading straight toward a Grade 4 rift.

It had existed for many years. This particular rift fell under the responsibility of the Demon Monarch of our galaxy, with demon forces forming the core of its defense. Other races, mercenary groups, and independent powers were allowed to participate if they wished, but the burden of holding the line rested on the demons.

If this rift ever deepened, it would be their failure to answer for.

Almost as if responding to that thought, warning signals flared across the ship’s control panels. A sharp tone echoed through the viewing deck, pulling everyone’s attention toward the monitors.

The monitor resolved quickly, a dense mass of debris drifting at high velocity directly along our course. We shifted our gaze from the screens to the void ahead.

What floated there wasn’t random wreckage. It was the shattered remains of a fort. Jagged structures, torn bulkheads, and fractured platforms drifted silently through space, their edges scorched and warped.

”Looks like the remains of a demon defensive fort,” Primus muttered.

The warning alarm continued to pulse. I extended my perception outward, reaching into the void. With a simple flick of my will, I nudged the massive debris aside, bending space just enough to redirect its path without disturbing its momentum.

Our ship slipped past the wreckage.

Beyond it, more fragments drifted in silence, broken ships, shattered fort sections, and chunks of artificial landmass that had once served as anchor platforms. None of them showed signs of recent destruction.

This wasn’t a fresh battlefield remains. It was the aftermath of a war that had been fought, repaired, and then fought again.

The farther we moved in, the more unstable the Essence around us became.

At first it was subtle, barely noticeable unless one was actively sensing it. Then the disturbances grew clearer. Random fluctuations rippled through the void ahead, spreading outward like aftershocks from an unseen collision. The natural flow of Essence bent and twisted as those waves passed through, disrupting its rhythm before slowly settling again.

Something was happening further ahead. Close enough that the effects were leaking outward.

I focused more deeply, extending my perception. The fluctuations carried a familiar pressure, heavy and oppressive, layered over the laws like a foreign imprint. Violet collisions. I understood what it was. Conflicts between domains powerful enough to disturb Essence across vast distances.

Then we saw the bodies.

They drifted silently through space, scattered unevenly among the debris fields. Most were demons, their forms broken or incomplete, limbs torn away or entire sections erased cleanly rather than shattered. Abominations floated among them as well, their warped bodies unstable even in death.

There were others too. Different races. Beings I didn’t recognize. Beings who had come here for profit, duty, or desperation and never left. No movement. No struggle. Just slow rotation in the void.

As my perception extended further, I noticed something else mixed into the Essence flow. Thin. Almost imperceptible.

Deathmist.

Only traces of it remained, diluted beyond danger, but unmistakable. It drifted alongside the Essence like residue left behind after something far worse had passed through.

We continued forward.

Without warning, the temperature around the ship spiked sharply. Not enough to trigger alarms, but enough to feel.

An elemental pocket.

We were passing through a region where Fire Laws had surged and never fully dispersed. Space there retained the heat like a scar. I reached out instinctively, smoothing the distorted Essence flow, normalizing the imbalance so the ship could pass through safely.

Further on, I sensed more.

Pockets of compressed cold. Areas where gravity pulled slightly harder than it should. Zones where wind Essence lingered despite the absence of atmosphere. Each one was a leftover imprint from battles fought long ago.

This space remembered conflict. And everything we were seeing told me the same thing. We were no longer far from the war.

I reduced the ship’s velocity and extended my perception fully, spreading it outward in all directions until it wrapped around us like a second hull.

”Are we close?” Steve asked. His voice was tight, one hand already resting on the hilt of his sword. ”I feel... something. It’s unsettling.”

”Me too,” North said quietly, her gaze fixed straight ahead. She hadn’t moved, but her posture had shifted.

I narrowed my eyes.

I didn’t feel unease. There was nothing wrong in the Essence flow immediately around us, no violent distortion, no active clash. Everything was... quiet.

Too quiet.

To be certain, I activated Right to Insight.

The void changed.

Layers peeled back, and what had once looked like empty space sharpened into structure. Essence lines became visible. Law imprints surfaced. And then, I saw it.

A wall.

It stretched across the void ahead of us, vast beyond scale. An invisible barrier standing where there should have been nothing. It wasn’t a surface you could see with normal sight, but under enhanced perception, faint runes pulsed and shifted across it, flowing like living script.

The wall didn’t curve around a point.

It extended endlessly.

As far as my perception could scan, to the left, to the right, upward and downward, the wall was there. A seamless boundary cutting across space itself, dividing regions of the void with absolute precision.

Runes rippled across its surface in slow patterns, some bright, some dim, reacting subtly to the surrounding Essence. They weren’t aggressive. They weren’t passive either. They simply... existed.

I felt no hostility from it. No threat. This was not a battlefield structure. This was a line. A silent, absolute demarcation placed before the war itself. Maybe as a barrier to alert others of someone’s presence.

I let out a slow breath.

”We’re here,” I said at last.