My Talent's Name Is Generator

“Why kill him?” Knight asked as we hovered once more above the fractured island, the sea still churning through the clean splits in the land below.

“He was going to die anyway,” I replied casually, my gaze already shifting. “I just moved the timeline forward a little. People like him have a habit of sprinting toward their own end.”

Knight didn’t argue. He rarely did once I said things in that tone.

My attention settled on Shera Ranthor.

The Feran general stood in his chamber, an old scroll unfurled in his hands. I extended my perception and skimmed its contents without effort. What I read made my expression tighten.

Loss reports.

Heavy ones.

Requests for reinforcement, urgent, poorly masked as routine. And not just internal reinforcement. The message explicitly called for aid from outside the Blue Spiral Galaxy.

That was the part that caught.

My eyes narrowed as I finished reading. “Interesting.”

Knight followed my gaze. “What is it?”

“Their forces are bleeding,” I said. “And whatever they’re fighting, they don’t think this galaxy alone can handle it.”

His tone sharpened. “Crimson Zone?”

I nodded. “So it really is active.”

He exhaled slowly. “We have fragments of information. It’s a forbidden region, cordoned off ages ago. Recently destabilized. Every major power is sending containment forces.”

“And what’s inside it?” I asked.

Knight shook his head. “That part’s classified even to most Transcendents. All we know is that whatever’s there doesn’t stay quiet.”

I considered that for a heartbeat.

“Then we’ll stop guessing,” I said.

The fractured island vanished beneath us as I shifted both of us directly into Shera’s chamber. The transition was silent, seamless. Shera barely had time to register our presence before space locked around him, compressing his movement into nothing. I layered time over it a moment later, slowing the flow around his body until even panic couldn’t fully form.

I stepped forward, reached out, and plucked the scroll from his frozen grip. With a flick of my wrist, I tossed it to Knight.

Then I turned back to Shera and stopped directly in front of him, meeting his eyes as they strained helplessly against the bindings.

“Let’s talk about the Crimson Zone,” I said calmly.

His eyes narrowed, the muscles along his jaw tightening as he strained against the bindings. I could feel the resistance clearly.

“It’s useless,” I said calmly. “Let’s not waste each other’s time. What is the Crimson Zone about?”

He didn’t answer.

Not a word. Not even a change in breath. His gaze stayed locked on mine, steady to the point of stubbornness, as if silence itself were a shield he believed in.

I watched him for a moment longer, then exhaled through my nose.

“Fine.”

I didn’t raise my voice. I didn’t threaten him again. I simply activated the Abyssal Extraction Authority.

The shift was immediate.

Something deep inside him reacted, violently. His control cracked and his eyes widened as the Abyssal Extraction Authority latched on. The first signs were subtle, thin, glowing green runes seeping out from beneath his skin like symbols forced into visibility. They hovered for a fraction of a second before being dragged inward, devoured by the Abyss Core without resistance.

That was when panic finally surfaced.

His pupils dilated sharply as he felt it, the loss. The slow, undeniable sensation of his levels slipping away.

“So?” I asked, tilting my head slightly.

His mouth opened. Closed. Then opened again.

“Wait,” he said hoarsely.

I didn’t stop.

More runes tore free this time, brighter, denser, coming faster. His breathing broke, shoulders trembling despite the spatial lock.

“Wait—no, wait,” he said, the words tumbling out now, unguarded. “Stop.”

I paused.

The pull lessened, hovering on the edge of continuation. The Abyss waited, patient.

I met his eyes again.

There was fear there now. Raw and unmistakable.

“Speak,” I said quietly.

He swallowed hard, the movement visible even with space pressing down on him.

“The Crimson Zone is a forbidden—”

“Give me the real details,” I cut in calmly. “Not the label. What is actually inside it.”

His jaw tightened, then loosened again as he realized silence would only make things worse.

“We don’t know,” he said quickly. “I mean, I don’t know. Only the very highest forces do. And the System.”

I studied him for a moment. “Is that so?”

He nodded. “Yes. But the most terrifying part isn’t what’s hidden inside. It’s where it exists.”

“Go on.”

“It exists in every galaxy,” he said, voice low now. “Not just the Blue Spiral. The Prime Galaxy has it too.”

I blinked and glanced at Knight. He shook his head slightly. This was new to him as well.

“So it’s universal,” I murmured. “Is it the Eternals?”

“No,” Shera said immediately. “It predates them. The Crimson Zone existed long before the invasion. Some believe it’s a doorway. Others think it’s a scar.”

“A doorway to what?”

He hesitated. “Another force. One that rivals the Eternals.”

Silence stretched for a heartbeat.

“What else?” I asked.

“Transcendents aren’t enough,” he said. “Whatever happens inside… Saints are the minimum. Only Saints go in and come back out.”

I nodded slowly, committing every word to memory.

“Thank you,” I said. “Now tell me something else. I heard you held a meeting. You were planning something against me.”

His eyes widened. “No. Nothing like that.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Then what was it?”

“A discussion,” he said hurriedly. “About what kind of contract to establish with you.”

“If you say so,” I replied.

The Abyss stirred again.

“What are you doing?” he blurted.

“Nothing,” I said evenly. “I just don’t trust that answer.”

Green runes tore free once more, thinner this time but sharper, and vanished into the Abyss Core. Shera flinched, blinking rapidly as his breath hitched.

“Wait,” he said. “I’ll tell you.”

I stopped.

“We were going to gather information on you,” he admitted. “That’s all.”

“How?”

He hesitated, then spoke a single phrase.

“Hollow Star.”

A smile touched my lips.

“Now that,” I said softly, “is good news.”

His expression tightened. “You’re not angry?”

“On the contrary,” I replied. “I’m interested. Have you contacted them already?”

He nodded.

I reached out, pulled his storage ring free, and sifted through it. There was plenty of material inside, but one object stood out immediately, a brown badge marked only with the Feran insignia, its essence signature still fresh.

“This?” I asked.

He nodded again.

“Rudy’s Bar,” he said quietly. “In the capital. That’s where contact is made.”

I stored the badge and looked back at him.

“That,” I said, “is very helpful.”

I glanced at Knight.

His tail snapped forward from behind Shera in a single, fluid motion, piercing straight through the Feran’s head. The strike was so clean that Shera never even had time to understand what was happening. One moment he was breathing, the next his body went slack, life extinguished without resistance.

I didn’t look back at the corpse.

“Let’s go,” I said calmly. “There are more things that need to be dealt with.”

Space folded again as I took Knight with me, the chamber vanishing in an instant. Even as we moved, my thoughts lingered on what I had learned.

The Crimson Zone.

A presence older than the Eternals. Existing across galaxies. Requiring Saints just to survive its depths.

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