My Talent's Name Is Generator

The palace fell silent except for the strong rumble of thunder overhead. Dust hung in the air, and for a moment everything felt frozen by the shock of what had just happened.

Then the ground in the throne hall moved. The crater split, and the Emperor shot out of the rubble. He landed on his feet facing us, armor cracked down the breastplate, blood trickling from his lips. His eyes were red with rage, but he held himself steady, forcing his anger into a cold mask.

He stared straight at me. “Who are you?” he asked.

“My name is Billion Ironhart, and I am the guardian of Vaythos,” I said, my voice even.

“Guardian of Vaythos?” Odin repeated, surprise cutting through the pain on his face.

“I came to negotiate with Sukra,” I told him, and I pointed to the frozen Ferans and the captured Grandmasters hovering behind me. “For your part with the Ferans,” I said, “and for aligning with Saturn of Peanu, who sided with the Eternals, you are guilty. You are unfit to rule Sukra.”

The Grandmasters around him stared wide-eyed. Odin clenched his fist so tight his knuckles went white.

“You have two choices,” I continued, speaking slowly so everyone heard. “First: step down and become a vassal of Vaythos. Second: you die, and Sukra becomes a vassal of Vaythos.”

When I finished, even the thunder seemed to pause. The silence pressed hard against us.

Odin’s face twisted with fury. “Since when did you become judge of what is right or wrong?” he growled.

“I am an Executioner,” I said. “It is my right to carry out what I believe is right.”

BOOM!!

A violet bolt split the heavy clouds, washing the sky in a brief, harsh light. For a beat everything looked purple and unreal.

Odin spat blood and took a step forward. “What the fuck is an Executioner? We do not care. Sukra is independent, and we will defend it with our lives.”

He sounded certain. Dangerous certainty. I felt every Grandmaster tense, ready to move.

A voice echoed in my head, Dante’s.

Calm but cutting.

’Kid, the emperor told you to negotiate, not piss them off. No killing. We need the Emperor back, alive. What the hell are you doing?’

“I’m still talking,” I said out loud, smiling faintly as I folded my arms and faced Odin. “No need to sign your own death yet.”

His glare sharpened, but I continued.

“We know you’ve been working with the Ferans and Saturn. On that front, Saturn is dead. All of their grandmasters too. Peanu now serves under Vaythos. The Ferans stationed there are gone. So that leaves only you.”

I tilted my head, watching his expression. “Are you absolutely sure you won’t agree to my deal? I’ll give you two minutes to talk it over with your council.”

Odin’s eyes burned with fury. He didn’t answer.

I nodded and spoke.

“Descend.”

The word left my mouth like a command.

A massive bolt of violet lightning tore across the clouds. The storm twisted in on itself, then split open like the heavens had cracked. From the rift descended a colossal palm, pure Essence and lightning woven together, burning violet against the dark sky.

It wasn’t just large. It covered the entire capital.

From one horizon to the other, its fingers stretched like divine pillars, shadowing everything beneath it. The towers, the palace, the grandmasters, all of them looked like insects beneath a god’s hand.

The whole world seemed to hold its breath.

RUMBLE—

The air itself shook as the palm began to press downward.

The weight wasn’t just physical; it was existential. The capital groaned under its presence. Palace walls split apart. Streets tore open like paper. The glass of countless towers shattered into a rain of shards that glittered violet under the charged light.

Every being below could feel it, the suffocating force of something that is apocalyptic.

Every grandmaster froze, eyes wide in disbelief.

“Your Majesty!” they shouted, but Odin didn’t move. His fists were trembling, his jaw locked tight as he stared up at the falling hand.

“You have one minute and forty seconds,” I reminded him softly.

He glared back at me, his breath uneven.

The palm kept descending.

’Kid, what are you doing?!’ Dante’s voice roared in my head this time, no longer calm, just pure alarm.

The violet storm roared as the palm kept lowering.

Odin didn’t move. The cracks on his armor glowed faintly red. He glared at me through the storm, unflinching.

“I warned you,” I said quietly, my voice carrying through the lightning. “This isn’t a threat. It’s a choice.”

He clenched his jaw, his face twisting between rage and disbelief. The grandmasters behind him shouted for him to act, their voices breaking under pressure that could crush mountains.

The giant palm descended lower. The air screamed. The capital trembled.

“Your Majesty—!” one of the grandmasters shouted, his barrier already flickering, knees buckling.

But Odin didn’t answer. He tried to stand tall, tried to act like he wasn’t afraid. His aura flared for a moment, bright and proud but it shattered almost instantly under the crushing weight of my will.

The storm swallowed the city in violet light. The palace towers bent. Lightning forked through the sky like veins of fire.

I raised my hand slightly, keeping my eyes on him. “Thirty seconds left.”

Odin’s glare faltered. His breathing grew harsh. I could see the moment his pride broke, just a flicker but it was enough.

The palm’s shadow grew darker, thicker, so close now that its lightning brushed the tallest towers, melting their spires. The ground began to quake violently.

Then, finally—

“STOP!” he roared, his voice cracking under the strain.

The sound tore through the storm like a desperate command.

I smiled and snapped my finger.

The palm made a groaning sound as it came to a halt.

The massive hand hung there, covering the entire capital, humming with restrained power. Just one twitch and it could have erased everything.

The thunder within the palm still roared, wrapping the entire capital in a violet hue that refused to fade. I looked at Odin through the haze.

“So what’s your choice?” I asked.

His teeth clenched as he spoke. “We are ready to align ourselves with Vaythos… and agree to your deal.”

I gave a slow nod. “Good choice. But some of you will need to come with us to Peanu to meet the Emperor of Vaythos. And this part isn’t negotiable.” My tone left no room for argument.

“Knight,” I called.

The air behind Odin twisted, and from the cracks in space, black tendrils shot out, alive and writhing. They wrapped around Odin and each of the ten grandmasters, binding them tight like ropes of living shadow.

“You struggle, and you die,” I said, turning my eyes to the last grandmaster who still stood free, trembling.

“We’ll take the Ferans and leave the rest here. Tell them what happened… and don’t make any stupid choices. Next time, the palm won’t stop.”

His face turned pale, but he nodded quickly.