My Talent's Name Is Generator

Chapter 423: Ragnar The Ape

I stood on the mountaintop, letting the memories of the hybrid ape flow through me. He had always been a fighter, angry and proud, getting himself into danger time and again.

His ego drove him into fights he didn’t need, yet somehow, luck had kept him alive more times than I could count, barely escaping death each time.

But his luck finally ran out. The corrupted soul had taken over, twisting him into an abomination.

I watched it all silently, letting the memories of his past sink in, feeling both his anger and his determination.

After a few moments, I opened my eyes and focused on the connection I had just forged. ”Come out,” I whispered.

Crimson mist surged from my heart, spilling across the ground like smoke rising from a smoldering fire.

It coiled and twisted in the air, thickening, swirling, until it began to take shape.

Slowly, a massive form emerged from the haze. Black fur gleamed with dark power, but the scales along his chest, arms, and legs glowed crimson, catching the light like molten metal. His eyes were red, burning with intelligence and rage.

He stepped forward, the ground trembling beneath his weight, muscles coiled like springs ready to strike.

The bone club in his hand, etched with faint runes, reflected the crimson glow of his scales.

I could feel the raw energy radiating off him, the laws of forces he had mastered through struggle and rage, now fully under my control.

I nodded at Lyrate as she floated slightly above the ground, her sword gleaming faintly in the sunlight.

”Whoa, he looks even more menacing this way,” she said.

I rubbed my chin, letting the moment sink in. The ape’s crimson eyes glowed brightly, focusing sharply on me for a brief moment before flicking between Lyrate and me.

”I think I’ll call you Ragnar from now on. Welcome to the team,” I said, my voice calm but firm.

Ragnar blinked slowly, almost like he was acknowledging the name. Then he stepped forward, muscles rippling, and let out a roar that made the mountain tremble. The ground shook beneath our feet, and a small dust cloud lifted around him.

’I like the name,’ I heard in my mind, a deep, guttural voice that carried raw pride.

I grinned. ”Of course you’d like it. It’s a powerful name, and I expect you to live up to it.”

He growled in response.

’I am always strong.’

I chuckled, rubbing my chin again. ”Well, we’ll see about that. Why don’t you both spar a little?” I suggested, looking at Lyrate and giving her a teasing wink.

Ragnar’s chest heaved as he flexed, his massive hands clenching. Pride and defiance shone in his eyes; he needed to understand hierarchy and trust, even if just a little.

I checked his level quickly.

[Serpentine Ape – Level 233].

A drop from his former 250, but still more than enough to keep Lyrate on her toes. Lyrate was currently below 230.

Her eyes glimmered with excitement, and she nodded. Her body floated upward, sword in hand, aura flaring.

Then it began.

Ragnar lunged first. His bone club arced down like a falling tree, and I immediately sensed the shift in space around it. He was using the law of attraction subtly, pulling at Lyrate’s body with the swing, trying to draw her into the path of his club. The mountain beneath us groaned under the shockwave.

Lyrate reacted instantly.

She twisted her body midair, her legs pushing off the thin wind currents she had generated around her.

Her sword flashed, weaving a quick defensive construct out of the law of creation—an ephemeral blade that intercepts the downward force. Sparks flew as the club struck, the shockwave sending debris and dust into the air.

Ragnar grunted, spinning his body to keep his momentum.

The attraction field tried again, tugging her forward, but Lyrate countered, slicing a circular line with her sword to redirect herself slightly upward. The collision of forces made a faint ripple in the air around us.

I saw her start to assess him, read his pattern. He wasn’t fast, but every swing carried overwhelming power.

His gravity manipulation subtly adjusted his weight midair, letting him strike harder or recover faster. She needed to anticipate not just the club but the invisible pull.

Ragnar swung again, and this time he stomped the ground first. The gravitational aura surged outward, pulling Lyrate off-balance. The moment she tilted, he lunged, club aimed to crush her.

She responded in a heartbeat. Pivoting in midair, she created a small row of floating sword constructs beneath her feet, which she bounced off to gain lateral momentum.

The pull from Ragnar’s attack tried to drag her forward, but she twisted sharply, letting her sword slice a line through the air, deflecting part of the force away. She flipped backward over the swing, narrowly avoiding the club’s edge.

Ragnar’s eyes narrowed. His hands clenched harder on the club, and the gravitational field intensified, pulling at her direction like invisible chains.

Lyrate noticed immediately—her body stiffened slightly as she countered. She used the sword to create a thin wall of energy, breaking the attraction’s grip enough to slide sideways. The ground below her splintered where the residual forces collided.

He roared and lunged forward, swinging horizontally this time, trying to sweep her off her feet. Lyrate spun gracefully, letting the swing pass under her, then lashed out with her sword, slicing at his left arm. Sparks and raw energy burst where blade met club, but Ragnar barely flinched.

The runes etched on his body glowed faintly, reinforcing his control over the forces around him.

I could see his pride flare. Every movement was deliberate, testing Lyrate, trying to gauge her reactions. The pull of gravity, repulsion, and attraction shifted subtly with each swing—sometimes pushing her toward him, sometimes dragging her sideways. It wasn’t chaotic; it was controlled, an extension of his will.

”Don’t get so cocky, beast. You’re not the only one with advanced laws here,” Lyrate said, bringing her hands together.