My Talent's Name Is Generator

I stood in front of the mirror, giving myself a quick once-over. Satisfied that I looked decent enough, I grabbed the blue cores and stepped out of the room.

First stop—Steve.

I knocked on his door and waited. No response. I knocked again. Still nothing. After a full minute of silence, I banged on the door with my fist.

“Why the hell wouldn’t they install doorbells?” I muttered, frustration creeping in.

Finally, the lock clicked, and the door creaked open. Steve stood there, half-asleep, eyes barely open.

“It’s almost afternoon. Let’s get some food,” I said.

He blinked at me, then glanced at the blue cores in my hand.

“North?”

I nodded.

“One hour.” He shut the door in my face.

I kicked his door for good measure and moved on.

North ranked fourth overall after combining both mission results, so I headed to room 004 and knocked.

A couple of seconds passed. No response.

‘I swear, if she’s as lazy as Steve…’

I knocked again. Still nothing. My jaw clenched, and I banged on the door, a little harder than necessary.

Seconds ticked by, then finally, the door cracked open.

I wiped the irritation off my face, forcing a relaxed expression and a smile before she could notice.

North stood there in what looked like her training clothes, hair tied up in a bun, sweat glistening on her skin.

She smiled, breath slightly heavy.

“Sorry, didn’t hear the knock. I was training.”

I shrugged.

“No issues.” Then, raising my hand, I showed her the cores. “Here.”

North took the cores and inspected them for a moment before giving a small nod.

“Thanks,” she said. “Come in for a bit?”

“Sure.”

I stepped inside, glancing around. Her room was exactly the same as mine – nothing out of place except for a towel draped over a chair and a half-empty bottle of water on the desk.

She grabbed the bottle and took a sip before gesturing vaguely.

“Make yourself comfortable. Not much to see, though.”

“Yeah, all the rooms look the same.” I said.

North shrugged.

“You get used to it. This isn’t my first time here.”

I raised a brow.

“You’ve been to Unit 02’s compound before?”

“Mm-hmm,” she hummed. “Many times actually to visit my grandfather.”

That explained a lot.

“So you already know all the facilities?”

She capped her water bottle and answered.

“Pretty much.”

I hummed and responded.

“Guess that saves you the trouble of exploring.”

She smiled. “Yeah. Though I’m still heading to the cafeteria soon. Training made me hungry.”

“Same. Haven’t eaten since morning.”

She gave me a look.

“You skipped breakfast?”

“Got caught up with some things.” I shrugged.

She rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, yeah. Anyway, what about you? What have you been up to?”

“Nothing much. Just finished using my own skill cores,” I said vaguely. “What about you? What were you training?”

Her expression brightened slightly.

“Archery. Want to see?”

“Sure.”

She stood up and stretched before heading toward the door. I followed as she led the way to the training room. As soon as we stepped inside, she moved toward the equipment rack, where her bow and a quiver of arrows were neatly placed.

“I’ve been working on speed shooting,” she said, picking up the bow and strapping the quiver to her back.

“Speed shooting?”

She nodded.

“Firing as many arrows as possible in a short burst. Basically maximizing efficiency in a fight.”

That made sense.

North moved to the center of the room, pulling an arrow from her quiver.

“Alright, watch.”

She exhaled, her movements suddenly sharp and focused. In the span of a few seconds, she notched, drew, and fired the first arrow at the target. Before it even hit, the second arrow was already in motion. Then the third. Then the fourth.

By the time she stopped, five arrows were embedded in the target—an archery board mechanically hanging from the ceiling—all fired within a heartbeat of each other.

I let out a low whistle. “That’s fast.”

North grinned, clearly pleased. “Still not fast enough. But I’ll get there.”

I stepped closer to her and asked, “Want my help?”

She turned to me, curious. “You know archery?”

I shook my head. “No, but I know a thing or two about speed.”

She considered that for a moment before nodding. “Alright then, what do you suggest?”

I took a few steps back and gestured toward her bow. “Fire another five arrows. I want to observe once more.”

Without hesitation, she got into position, drawing her bow with practiced ease.

As she prepared to fire, I activated [Psynapse Boost]. A rush of Essence flooded into my mind, sharpening my senses.

My vision pulsed with green light as the world slowed. Every detail of her movement became crystal clear, the tension in her fingers, the subtle shift in her shoulders, the way her muscles coiled before release.

For the first time, I could see the sequence of her shots in perfect clarity. She was fast but there were inefficiencies. A fraction of a second lost between each draw, a slight overcorrection in her grip, a moment where her stance wavered just enough to impact her flow.

If she tightened up those small mistakes, her speed would jump even higher.

The arrows struck the target in rapid succession. By the time she stopped, five arrows were embedded in the archery board, all fired within a heartbeat of each other.

I exhaled, deactivating [Psynapse Boost] as my vision returned to normal.

“You’re already fast,” I said, meeting her gaze. “But you can be even faster.”

I stepped closer, watching her stance as she prepared another shot.

She glanced at me. “How?”

“Your shoulder movement. It’s not consistent. Every arrow, your positioning shifts slightly, even though you’re standing in the same spot and aiming at a still target.”

She frowned slightly and lowered her bow. “I didn’t notice that.”

“Here.” I moved beside her and placed a hand lightly on her shoulder. “You’re adjusting too much after every shot. Keep this stable.”

She rolled her shoulder back, testing the correction. “Like this?”

“Yeah. Lock it in place. That way, your muscle memory stays solid instead of resetting each time.”

She nodded, her expression thoughtful. Then, without another word, she got into position and fired again.

The arrow flew straight, embedding into the target a fraction of a second faster than before.

She looked at me, a small smile forming. “I see what you mean.”

I nodded. “Try a full set now.”

She drew, fired, and kept going, this time, her movement was more steady. When she finally lowered the bow, five arrows were embedded in the target, all fired in a clean, rapid burst.

“Better?” she asked.

I smirked. “Much better.”

She exhaled and stretched her arm. “Not bad advice for someone who doesn’t know archery.”

I shrugged. “I have good eyes.”

A brief silence followed. I realized I had been holding her gaze for a little too long. She cleared her throat, and I shifted my weight, breaking the moment.

I rubbed the back of my neck and asked, “Want to grab lunch at the cafeteria? Then maybe check out the library?”

She nodded. “Sure.”

“Cool. I’ll wait in Steve’s room—002. See you there.”

Without waiting for a reply, I turned and walked out, a little faster than necessary.

As I stepped into the hallway, I exhaled, rolling my shoulders. That had gone well.

I had never really thought about this kind of thing before. Relationships, chemistry, whatever it was.

Fighting, training, leveling up, that all made sense. This? Not so much.

Maybe I should ask someone for advice. But who? Steve? No way. He’d either tease me to death or give some half-assed nonsense.

That left books or the internet.

I decided to look it up later: “How to Get a Girlfriend: A Newbie Guide.”