My Talent's Name Is Generator

Chapter 481: Moon Palace: Blood and Ashes

Ragnar’s weapon pulsed, doubling in weight, tripling, each heartbeat piling on another layer of crushing inevitability. The silver aura didn’t just strike, it pressed, multiplied, compounded until it became a weapon of unstoppable mass.

Porus’s arms buckled. His knees shook. Cracks spread through the radiant sword projection.

”No...!” Porus roared, channeling every ounce of his strength, Essence blazing.

It wasn’t enough.

The crescent of light shattered into fragments, raining down like dying stars. The white glow around Porus shattered next, exploding outward in sparks as the circle lost one of its anchors.

The colossal club slammed into him with finality.

The ground erupted in a thunderous quake as Porus was smashed into the earth. Soil and stone blasted skyward.

His glowing sword scattered from his grasp, extinguishing as though it had never existed. His body lay broken, embedded in the crater, his breath a ragged wheeze.

”That was fun,” Ragnar rumbled, standing over him with silver mist rolling off his body like steam.

Ragnar barely had time to lift his club from the broken form of Porus before two more shadows flashed into his vision.

Mandal and Karu were already upon him, their white swords blazing with the power of the glowing circle beneath them.

Ragnar’s grin widened, but there was no time for mockery. The first strike fell from Karu, his blade cutting down like a streak of condensed moonlight.

Ragnar swung his club up in defense, sparks of silver flaring as bone and light clashed. At the same instant, Mandal circled low, his blade darting in with vicious precision toward Ragnar’s ribs.

The clash was explosive. Ragnar blocked, twisted, and swung with raw ferocity, but the circle pulsed beneath them, feeding every ounce of strength Ragnar used back into Saturn. Each impact he delivered against their swords carried not just resistance but consequence.

Meanwhile, the black guard who had been gifted one of the white swords locked onto Knight. With a howl, he sprinted forward, blade raised, white aura gleaming around him.

Knight’s eyes glowed like twin abysses, his sleek panther body rippling with coiled muscle. The black guard’s swing cut through the air.

But Knight was faster. His form blurred, dissolving into shadow and reappearing at the man’s flank. The guard barely turned before the panther’s claws slashed across his chest, forcing him back. Still, the white glow of the circle protected him, the sword’s light screaming in defiance.

Across the battlefield, Saturn’s stance shifted. He squared himself toward the woman now floating above the chaos, Lyrate. His guards tightened formation around him, their faces grim, their blades raised to shield their emperor.

Lyrate chuckled, her voice carrying clearly across the battlefield. ”An emperor should lead from the front,” she said, her crimson mist swirling lazily around her body, ”not hide behind servants.”

Her feet lifted from the ground, her body weightless as if the world itself had released her. With a single smooth motion, she pointed her sword toward one of the guards. Her eyes glimmered with cruel amusement.

”The moment you entered, I sensed it,” she said softly. ”You dabble in the Laws of Life. But your comprehension...” Her smile widened. ”Pathetically weak.”

The man froze. Then his body convulsed. A wet cough tore from his throat, blood spraying from his lips.

His scream followed, ragged and raw, as his flesh twisted. From his arms, his chest, his neck, flowers began to bloom. Delicate, crimson blossoms sprouted and unfurled, feeding on his Essence, spreading faster and faster until his entire frame was a garden of agony.

His screams echoed across the battlefield, chilling and endless.

”Enough!” Saturn roared. His body surged forward, the white glow around him intensifying like a miniature sun. His greatsword burned with light as he cut through the air toward Lyrate.

But Lyrate’s expression did not waver. She raised her sword in a lazy, almost dismissive arc.

A wave of bright green Essence erupted from her blade, pure and vibrant, like the breath of spring itself.

It swept forward in a wide crescent, colliding with Saturn’s charge. The Emperor’s blade smashed into the wave and he was stopped in his charge. His flight faltered, the green glow wrapping around him, holding him back.

On the other side, Ragnar battled furiously, his club a whirlwind of destruction as Mandal and Karu pressed him from both sides. Every strike he blocked made the circle pulse brighter, every swing he forced upon them feeding Saturn’s growing might.

Knight, however, did not relent. His body blurred again, shadows spiraling out from him as he appeared behind the screaming black guard. The man tried to lift his sword, to shield himself, but Knight’s maw opened wide.

A beam of crimson mist shot forth, dense and hissing, slamming directly into the man’s chest.

The explosion was grotesque. Flesh, bone, and flowers scattered in a storm of gore. The man’s screams ended in an instant, silence replacing agony.

The battlefield trembled with chaos.

Roots from Lyrate’s earlier attack still twisted across the ground, wrapping around legs, tangling with swords, crushing the unlucky. Flames burned in pockets, rubble lay everywhere, and the cries of wounded grandmasters mixed with the roar of clashing laws.

Saturn’s glow fought against Lyrate’s verdant wave. Ragnar’s silver mist clashed with Mandal and Karu’s white swords. Knight prowled the chaos like a phantom, his black body flashing in and out of space, leaving death in his wake.

All around, the grandmasters who had survived so far scrambled to fight for their lives, some turning against Ragnar, others desperately warding off Lyrate’s living roots.

And above it all, the glowing circle pulsed brighter and brighter, feeding Saturn as his fury mounted.

Knight darted through the battlefield like a phantom, flashing left and right, his claws and fangs tearing into the Grandmasters.

They tried to stop him, the black guard swinging desperately, his glowing white swords leaving trails of light. But even with the speed granted by the circle’s glow, they simply weren’t fast enough.

One by one, they fell. Heads rolled, bodies collapsed, and screams were cut short by the panther’s merciless strikes. I watched the chaos unfold, and in what felt like only minutes, the battlefield had been reduced to silence.

Only a handful remained. Saturn himself, two of his black guards, the unconscious Porus lying broken on the ground, and the last two pillars of his strength, Mandal and Karu.

Saturn, still locked in Lyrate’s grasping power, strained against the green wave holding him back. His greatsword trembled in his hands as veins bulged on his neck, his body trembling with fury. Finally, his roar split the air, raw and furious.

”Ahhhhhhh....”

His hand slammed against his own chest. I felt the pulse of Essence ripple outward.

”Moon Palace—Soul Sacrifice!”

Mandal and Karu, who had been circling Ragnar like wolves ready to strike, suddenly stopped. Their blades hung in the air, their eyes widening with horror. I caught the fear in their faces, the way they realized instantly what those words meant.

”Your majesty—!” Mandal tried to speak, but his voice broke.

Their bodies lit up, pure white light bursting from their skin, veins glowing as if their very souls were being torn apart. Their screams rang out, brief and sharp, before their forms scattered into countless fragments of light.

The particles didn’t vanish. They surged across the battlefield, rushing straight into Saturn’s body.

The Emperor’s glow swelled, his figure burning brighter with every fragment absorbed. The two strongest Grandmasters had been consumed in an instant.