My Talent's Name Is Generator

I sat inside what used to be the mission hall of Unit 77.

It was the only structure still standing. Arkas had told me the unit’s commander had made a final stand here, holding off the enemy just long enough for nine soldiers to escape through the teleportation hub.

I recalled the bodies I had seen. The destruction. I let out a long sigh.

This was the reality of our world. Despite all the precautions the Empire took, attacks still came—relentless and brutal. And moments like this, when the enemy managed to strike this deep into the Empire’s heart, reminded me just how fragile our situation truly was.

I heard footsteps behind me. I stood and turned.

My grandmother walked in, dressed in her uniform. I could see the tension etched into her face, the fatigue in her eyes.

But when her gaze met mine, a smile tugged at her lips.

It had been over two months since I’d last seen her.

I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around her.

“Grandma, I missed you.”

She patted my head gently.

“I missed you too, dear.”

She stepped back and gave me a once-over.

“Look at you. Already nearing your second evolution,” she said, her voice warm. “Is everything okay? Do you need help with anything?”

I chuckled.

“Nope. No help needed. And I know you wouldn’t help anyway.”

She shook her head, smiling knowingly, then moved to sit behind the only desk left intact in the hall.

I sat across from her.

Her expression shifted back to the stern, serious demeanor I knew so well.

“What happened here, Grandma?” I asked. “How could they strike so deep inside the Empire?”

She let out a breath before answering.

“We’re still investigating, so I can’t say much,” Grandma said. “But we do have a theory about why this unit was targeted. One of our… important commanders is currently on a critical mission outside the Empire. His grandson was assigned here, just a probationary soldier, like you.”

I frowned. “So the attack was aimed at the commander? Through his grandson?”

She nodded solemnly. “That’s what we believe. The goal may have been to kill or capture the boy, to force the commander off his mission.”

I leaned back, trying to process it. “But why go that far? Why use a kid as bait?”

Her expression hardened.

“Because that commander and his grandson… they’re the last two left in their family. Whoever planned this likely knew that. And they knew exactly what it would do to him if the boy died while he was away, defending the Empire.”

“So… did they succeed?” I asked. “Did they get him?”

“No,” she replied. “He’s alive. One of the nine who made it out.”

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding.

She continued, her voice colder now.

“And that’s why we believe this was an inside job. Almost no one knew he even existed, let alone that he was assigned here. We just need to find out who leaked that information. Once we do, everything else will start falling into place.”

I nodded slowly, then asked, “What about the ones who died?”

She sighed, her expression heavy.

“We’ve informed their families. Beyond that… there’s not much we can do. Except make sure this never happens again and find the Phantom responsible for it.”

I stared down at the desk, wondering how any of this could’ve been prevented. An entire unit, almost completely wiped out. Anger simmered quietly in my chest.

Every time I read about death or saw it up close, it always pulled me back to the memory of my parents. Their whole unit had been lost too. No one came back from that mission.

Grandma had never told me the details.

In fact, the conversation had never even come up. I’d avoided asking. I didn’t want to know. If it turned out to be something cruel, torturous, I wasn’t sure I could handle it.

But now… I wanted to know. Where had they gone? Why had they died? What had the Empire done in response? Or had they just been forgotten?

I looked up at Grandma, ready to finally ask, but she spoke first.

“Arkas told me you’re going on a secret mission.”

I blinked, caught off guard. But I supposed it made sense. It was up to Arkas who he wanted to share that with.

“Do you know the details?” I asked.

She nodded.

“Most of them. He came to me even before he told you, asked for my permission.”

That surprised me even more.

“He did? I never took Commander Arkas to be the type to ask permission. I always figured he was more of a ‘do it first, apologize later’ kind of guy.”

She chuckled softly.

“Oh, you’ve got him there. But this mission isn’t standard. No probationary soldier ever gets assigned to something like this. There’s too much uncertainty. Too many risks.”

She paused, her expression serious again.

“But if you want the chance to compete for that transformation skill from the Ferans, this is the only path.”

I nodded slowly.

I knew I wasn’t ready, not by normal standards. There were probably even Master-ranked individuals more suited for this. If they were inserting me just because I was leveling fast or punching above my weight… that wouldn’t be enough on its own.

I looked at her, a small smile tugging at my lips.

“So what do you think? Should I go on the mission?”

I was teasing, curious to see how she’d react. Would she really let me walk into something this dangerous?

She leaned back in her chair, closed her eyes briefly, then opened them with a heaviness I hadn’t noticed before.

“When your father was about to go on his last mission,” she said quietly, “he asked me a similar question.”

The smile faded from my face.

I straightened in my seat, unsure where she was going with this.

“He knew the risks,” she continued. “Knew that he might not come back. And still… he chose to go.”

I looked down at the edge of the desk, my voice suddenly small. “But…he had a kid, me. I was waiting for him to come back. Why didn’t he think about that?”

My hands curled into fists on my lap. I had never asked that question before, not out loud. Maybe I’d been scared of the answer. Maybe I hadn’t wanted to hear what I already suspected.

Grandma’s gaze didn’t waver. Her voice was calm, but there was an ache behind it, like the words had worn grooves in her over time.

“Because sometimes, duty comes above family.”

I shook my head once. Not in defiance, just in pain.

“For some men,” she said, “principles and values… they matter more. Your father believed in what he stood for. He believed that protecting others was worth the risk. Even if it meant leaving his son behind.”

I stood up.

I couldn’t sit there any longer.

My chest felt tight. My thoughts were loud, but none of them made sense. I didn’t want to argue. I didn’t want to cry in front of her. I just….needed to breathe.

Without a word, I turned and walked toward the exit of the hall.

She didn’t stop me.

Outside, the wind met me like a slap, cold and sharp. The ruins of Unit 77 stretched before me, silent witnesses to everything we’d lost.