My Talent's Name Is Generator

“All right, focus, Billion.”

I took a deep breath and prepared to use the generated Essence.

I shifted my stance, keeping my eyes locked on the puppet. My muscles ached from the earlier hits, but I ignored the pain. The generated Essence pulsed inside me, responding to my will, waiting to be shaped.

The goal was clear, form the technique mid-fight. If I couldn’t pull it off under pressure, then what was the point? But the puppet wasn’t about to stand still and let me figure it out.

It moved.

Within three lunges it was in front of my face.

A blur of motion, its fist tearing through the air toward me.

My eyes narrowed and I tracked its punch. The puppet’s punch streaked toward my ribs like a bullet. I twisted my body at the last second, letting the punch skim past me.

There was a different kind of thrill in allowing pain-inducing punches to pass this close to my body.

I gritted my teeth and focused. My right palm opened, and I channeled the generated Essence outward. A faint glow flickered to life, purple Essence swirling in the space just above my palm. I could feel it beginning to take shape—

A knee crashed into my gut.

The impact sent me staggering back, knocking the air from my lungs. The barely formed sphere in my hand collapsed instantly, dispersing into nothing.

“Fucking hell.”

Before I could recover, Arkas’s voice rang out, sharp and unforgiving.

“Dumb mistake.”

I looked up, still gasping.

“You don’t admire the technique while your enemy’s still breathing. Focus on the fight. Always.”

There was no time to recover. The puppet lunged forward, its next punch streaking toward my face. Ducking low, I twisted to the side, narrowly avoiding a follow-up elbow strike that whistled past my head.

Space, I needed space.

A sharp, Essence-infused kick lashed out, slamming into the puppet’s chest. The impact forced it back just enough, buying a fraction of a second. Exhaling sharply, I gathered the Essence again, forcing it to form the sphere once more.

Focus.

Control the rotation.

Let it stabilize.

The Essence swirled in my palm, tighter this time, more controlled—

A silver foot cut through the air toward my chest. I saw it coming.

Teeth clenched, I dug my heels in and braced for impact. The puppet’s kick slammed into me like a hammer, forcing me backward, my feet skidding across the ground.

The Essence still swirled over my palm but some of it started dispersing as well.

Digging deeper into my control, I focused everything on solidifying the sphere while keeping my stance firm. The puppet wasn’t going to wait. It charged again.

This was harder than I thought.

The problem wasn’t just forming the technique, it was maintaining it while fighting. Every time I built up the Essence, the puppet landed a hit and shattered my concentration.

But that was the whole point, wasn’t it?

If I wanted to use this in real combat, I couldn’t afford to stop moving just to charge up an attack. I had to find a way to shape the sphere while dodging, blocking, and striking back.

I exhaled, shaking out my limbs.

“Fine. Let’s do this again.”

The puppet lunged, throwing a brutal hook aimed at my temple. I ducked under it and retaliated with a sharp elbow to its ribs. The hit barely made it budge.

I ignored that and kept moving. The next punch came, but this time I sidestepped, twisting just enough to let it pass inches from my face. I could feel the force of the wind as it whooshed past me.

I opened my right palm, channeling the Essence again.

This time, I didn’t just channel it out.

I fucking forced it.

And it came out like a flood.

My focus zoomed and started molding the Essence.

The swirling mass of Essence formed once more, flickering but holding steady. I jumped back from the puppet, dodging with long lunges instead of keeping the distance too tight.

The puppet’s next move was a spinning back kick, aimed straight at my torso. I had no choice but to block, one of my arms came up just in time to absorb the impact, but the sheer force still sent me sliding back across the floor.

The Essence sphere wavered.

I tightened my focus, gritting my teeth as I fought to keep it stable.

‘Not this time.’

I dashed forward before the puppet could recover, weaving through its defenses, getting close enough to strike.

It reacted instantly, throwing a straight punch toward my chest.

I twisted, dodging just enough.

And then I struck.

My palm slammed into its torso, the somewhat compressed sphere of generated Essence detonating on contact. The explosion of force sent the puppet skidding backward, metal creaking from the impact.

I exhaled heavily, wiping sweat from my brow.

Arkas stepped forward, eyes narrowed, analyzing the puppet. He crouched, ran his hand over the dented torso, then stood back up.

“Decent force,” he muttered. “You’ve got the right idea with compression. But the output’s still below what I expected. Your Seismic Fist packed more punch than that.”

My eyes locked onto the spot where my attack had landed.

Unfortunately, I was certain [Seismic Burst] would have done more damage than the condensed sphere. There was some impact, but nothing compared to what I had achieved against the level 30 puppet.

Extending my will, I tried to connect with the purple Essence, but none of it had passed through the puppet’s framework. The sphere had been too loosely concentrated, and there wasn’t enough Essence in it to begin with.

I spent the next few hours sparring with the puppet, weaving between its strikes while repeatedly trying to form the condensed sphere mid-fight. Each attempt pushed my control further, forcing me to maintain focus under pressure.

The entire time, Arkas kept giving feedback and input on the skill itself, but he didn’t say a word about the Essence.

Sometimes, I barely managed to shape the Essence before a punch slammed into me, breaking my concentration.

Other times, I held it together long enough to counter with a half-formed attack. The progress was slow, but each failure sharpened my technique, bringing me closer to mastering it in combat.

“Pause.”

The puppet whirled down and stood motionless.

Exhaling heavily, I sat down on the floor.

“That was a shit show.”

Before I could get lost in my frustration, Arkas spoke from behind me.

“Try the normal Essence next.”

I looked up at him, blinking.

“Now?”

“Yes, go on.”

I nodded slowly and extended my palm, focusing on the Essence around me. Green wisps drifted in, weaving through the air before they began to gather above my hand.

Seconds passed.

Arkas and I watched in silence as the normally invisible Essence gradually took shape. I kept pulling, smoothing, compressing, careful not to let the structure collapse midway.

Finally, after what felt like forever, the sphere stabilized in my palm.

Arkas clicked his tongue.

“Thirty-three seconds. That’s not good. Way too long. Even if you used it as a signature move, that much startup time would be a death sentence in real combat.”

I stared at the dull green glow in my palm, chewing the inside of my cheek. Two paths immediately came to mind—sharpening [Psynapse Boost] to enhance control or leveling up [Essence Shaping] to process the Essence faster.

I nodded slightly, setting the mental note.

Before Arkas sends me to the nest, I was going to cut that time in half.

The swirling green Essence spun steadily in my palm, mesmerizing in its motion.

Arkas stepped forward, eyes fixed on the sphere. Then, without a word, he sat down cross-legged in front of me.

He studied it for a moment before speaking.

“Now try it with fire. Let’s see how it reacts.”

The suggestion clicked immediately. I closed my eyes for a moment, tuning in to the faint fire element in the air, the hidden traces of heat scattered all around me.

Instead of pulling Essence, I began gathering those particles, guiding them carefully toward the sphere.

A soft flicker ran through the spinning mass.

Thin red streaks bled into the green, faint but unmistakable.

I pulled more, feeding the fire elements into the Essence, urging it to merge. The streaks deepened, spreading like veins through the sphere. A pulse ran through it, the temperature rising against my palm.

Then, with a quiet whoosh, flames sparked to life.

A controlled fireball spun in my hand. The green of Essence was gone now replaced with the crimson of fire. The heat was intense, but not wild. It didn’t lash out or burn uncontrollably, it spun with purpose, shaped by the Essence that held it together.