My Talent's Name Is Generator

Chapter 217: How to Cook a Holt (Mentally)

Steve kept going, hitting Marcus again and again, sometimes carving strange symbols into his skin with his blade. The man screamed in pain, his voice raw, but still refused to speak. No matter what Steve did, Marcus kept glaring at us with hatred, biting down on his pain and keeping his mouth shut.

After a while, Steve let out a long breath and stepped back, his shoulders tense.

“Damn it,” he muttered. “Why isn’t this working?”

I let out a small chuckle from where I was leaning against the wall.

“Since when did you start taking failure so personally?”

Steve glanced back at me with a sigh. “This was my first real torture session, you know? I wanted it to go well. Can a man not hope for a little success?”

I pushed off the wall and dusted off my shirt. “There’s nothing wrong with that, my friend. But let’s be honest—your skills in this area might need a bit of polishing.”

He smirked, clearly annoyed. “Why don’t you try, then?”

I gave him a nod. “Gladly.”

As I stepped forward, Marcus looked up at me with bloodshot eyes. Even after everything, they still held that same defiance. He didn’t need to speak—his expression said it all: ‘Give it your best shot, bastard.’

Up close, I could see just how bad his condition was. He had lost a lot of blood, there was a dark pool of it gathered under the bench.

His arms were slashed open in several places, and deep cuts lined his chest and thighs. Only his face had been left untouched. Steve had made sure not to damage it, probably so we could still read his expressions.

He had gone hard on Marcus, no doubt about that.

I ignored Marcus’s reaction and calmly placed a finger on his forearm.

I had always known my Essence control was better than most. But ever since the generator core formed inside me, I had been curious, what was it exactly that made the violet Essence so different?

There was only one way to find out.

I focused, letting a thin thread of violet Essence leak out from my fingertip. It moved with purpose, like a living thing.

There was no resistance. Marcus was too broken, too tired, too arrogant to defend against anything subtle. The Essence slipped into his skin and entered his bloodstream like it belonged there.

My eyes narrowed as I watched it travel. I kept the connection steady, maintaining my focus as the violet energy flowed through his veins. It moved slowly at first, curling through his arm, then sped up—heading toward his heart, then his neck, and finally, his head.

That’s when Marcus started shaking.

His body twitched uncontrollably as the Essence slithered upward. His lips parted, but no sound came out yet. His eyes went wide. He could feel it. I smiled faintly and guided the Essence further, into his skull.

“Ah,” I whispered softly. “You can feel it now, right?”

Then I gave the signal. The Essence jabbed forward like a spike, stabbing into a soft point in his brain.

Marcus screamed.

The sound echoed through the house, raw and full of panic.

“You can feel it now,” I said again, calmly, almost gently.

His head thrashed, blood starting to drip from his nose. I wasn’t done.

I sent another pulse of Essence, wrapping it around his brain completely like a web tightening. Blood now leaked from his eyes, slow and steady.

I leaned closer, voice low and cold.

“You understand what will happen if I cut your brain off from the rest of your body… right?”

His eyes shook as he stared at me, wide and terrified.

I activated [Psynapse Overdrive].

In an instant, my will expanded outward like a storm cloud, pressing down on everything around me. I narrowed it, focused it like a blade, and forced it straight into Marcus’s mind.

He trembled.

Not just from pain now, but from the horror of my will weighing down on his very thoughts. I pushed harder, pressing down with the full force of my intent, trying to make him submit.

“Give up,” I whispered. “Listen. Obey.”

His pupils fluttered, his lips quivered, but he still held on.

I leaned in slightly and spoke aloud, my voice cold and flat.

“I’ll count to three. If you want to live, speak. If not…” I paused, letting the violet Essence pulse harder around his brain. Another sharp jolt of pain wracked his body, and blood leaked from his ears now.

“I’ll turn you into a living corpse,” I finished.

“One.”

The Essence slithered closer to his brainstem, slow and steady like a knife hovering over a thin thread.

His body twitched violently. His breathing turned shallow.

“Two.”

I let my killing intent rise, not wild or loud, but precise and surgical, like a wire tightening around his thoughts.

Marcus’s eyes locked onto mine, filled with panic and confusion.

“Thr—”

He whispered.

“Please wait.”

A weak, trembling voice. But it was enough.

I exhaled and pulled back the Essence, easing the pressure inside his skull, though I didn’t remove it entirely. Let him remember it was still there.

“Good choice,” I said, my voice calm now. “Let’s talk.”

Steve walked over and stood beside me, eyeing Marcus with a mix of curiosity and frustration.

“Well damn,” he muttered. “How was I supposed to do what you just did?”

I chuckled. “You didn’t need to do exactly that. You could’ve just gone for his… you know, his thing.”

Steve gave me a sharp look, frowning. “His thing? Man, you’re actually insane.”

I shrugged. “Hey, whatever gets results. I don’t care about the Holts.”

I turned back to Marcus, meeting his bloodshot eyes.

“Don’t forget, Steve—these are the same traitors who refused to back the Empire during the war with Peanu.”

I crouched in front of Marcus, my voice low and firm.

“Start talking. How and when did the Holts take control of this realm?”

His lips trembled as he began to speak, his voice shaky and weak.

“I… I don’t know exactly how we took it. Only a few Grandmasters in the Holt family know the full details. We’ve been here for almost a year now.”

My brows pulled together in a deep frown.

A whole year—and the Empire didn’t even know?

I kept my tone steady as I asked the next question.

“How do you get in or out of the realm?”

He hesitated, his eyes darting between me and Steve. Then he sighed and answered.

“There’s a portal room… and also one portable teleportation device. It’s with Grandmaster Hugh.”

My eyes narrowed slightly. I remembered that Grandmaster Hugh. The one who fought Arkas… the one who dragged me and Steve into this place with that portal.

I filed that thought away for later.

“Where are the Ferans?” I asked next, my voice colder than before.

Creation is hard, cheer me up!