My Talent's Name Is Generator

Chapter 573: A Light Fading Quietly

BOOM!

A deafening explosion erupted, light swallowing everything for a moment. The pocket spaces collapsed inward, absorbing the blast. When the smoke cleared, I was on one knee, gasping. My entire right arm was gone, ripped clean off and the chain lay severed from its base, cracked and dissolving.

“You’re an idiot, kid.” Dante’s whisper reached me through the haze. I looked up, only to see the corruption spreading faster across his body, consuming what little was left.

I immediately sent my Essence into him, forcing it through his body, trying to cleanse the taint but it was useless. The corruption was in his soul and I could not reach it.

“It’s useless,” he muttered, voice faint. And I knew he was right. I couldn’t save him.

“North,” he whispered.

I looked at her. She was trembling, blade in hand, tears blurring her sight.

“Do it,” Steve said, his voice hoarse, his knuckles white around his weapon.

Dante’s head dipped slightly. “It’s alright, kid. Let me help you one last time… please.”

“North,” I murmured again.

She took a shaky step forward, both hands gripping her blade.

“Go for my head,” Dante said softly.

Her entire body shook hearing that.

She stopped in front of him and swallowed, the way someone takes a breath before they jump. For a second I thought she might drop the blade and run. Then she steadied herself, drew a long, slow breath, and tightened both hands on the hilt.

Dante remained seated, eyes closed.

North lifted the blade. Her arms shook, but the swing was clean. The blade moved in a single, straight arc across his neck.

The sound cut through the void. There was a sharp, wet sound, and then Dante’s head came free. It rolled and stopped beside his body. Blood sprayed in a dark arc and fell to the chain. For a breathless moment everything felt wrong and raw. The world seemed to tilt.

North fell to her knees. The blade slipped from her fingers and clattered against the metal with a hollow sound. She buried her face in her hands and hit the floor once, twice, sobbing uncontrollably.

Steve stared at the spot where Dante’s head had lain. His face had gone white. He dropped his sword and let his hands open and fall to his sides. He did not cry.

Dante’s body rolled to the side and came to rest. For a moment, none of us moved. The void around us was silent again. I forced myself to move, stepping closer until my boots touched the faint streak of blood trailing from his body.

I tapped my foot lightly on the bridge, and frost spread from the spot, crawling over his head and torso, sealing him in a thin shell of ice.

“Farewell, old man,” I muttered under my breath.

Violet fire flared from my command and covered the ice completely. Within seconds, his body and head were gone.

I stood there, staring at the space where he had been, feeling something heavy twist inside my chest. My right arm was gone from the shoulder down, and blood dripped freely, staining the bridge in uneven drops. The pain almost felt deserved. My heart was pounding so hard I could hear it echo inside my head.

I didn’t know what I was feeling. Anger, grief, disbelief, it all mixed into a single hollow ache. I wanted to roar, to tear apart the entire void, but no sound came out.

This place made me feel small. Weak. Caged. First Ragnar, now Dante. One by one, everyone who stood beside me was being taken away.

I remembered when Dante and I had discovered the markings. When I told him it might be the Genesis Rune, his eyes had lit up like a child’s.

We had laughed then, loud, reckless laughter that echoed through the wind as we rushed here, eager to uncover whatever secret this place held.

He had been so full of life, his eyes burning with curiosity, talking about exploring the Prime Galaxy together once all this was over. At that time, I didn’t even know his true identity. He’d kept it hidden so well, not out of pride, but because he wanted to live as a teacher. Maybe that was who he really was, a mentor first, a warrior second.

My mind began to replay every moment I’d shared with him. The first time I heard his voice in the elemental zone, calm yet carrying the weight of experience. The stories Arkas told me about his past battles and impossible feats.

Our first meeting, when I learned of his strange habit of changing faces and names, always hiding, always observing.

Fighting beside him on Vaythos, then again on Peanu. And finally, training under him—learning about aura, talent, and restraint.

He was a mystery until the very end. But he was also a good man, one worthy of respect and remembrance.

I turned toward Steve. He stood silent, staring into the endless abyss below, his face hard but pale. North was still kneeling, her face buried in her hands, her shoulders shaking. I knew I couldn’t let us stay here any longer. If Dante was right, even they were in danger. We had to move.

I walked over to North and knelt beside her. “North,” I said softly.

She lifted her head, eyes swollen and red, then suddenly threw her arms around me, sobbing against my chest.

“I’m sorry,” she kept whispering.

I shook my head. “It’s not your fault. Control yourself, we need to go. Primus and Anjee are in danger.”

She drew in a shaky breath and nodded slowly. “Yes… I understand.” Her eyes met mine, trembling but resolute. I wished I could hold her properly, but my missing arm made even comfort feel incomplete.

“It’ll be alright,” I said, forcing calm into my tone. “Let’s move.”

I rose to my feet and turned back toward the path I had come from. With a thought, my staff appeared beside me, humming faintly with Essence. I infused more power into it until it thickened enough for them to step on.

“Get on,” I said.

Steve exhaled deeply, sheathed his sword, and leapt onto the staff. North followed, her eyes still wet but determined.

I wrapped the staff in a protective layer of Essence, forming a glowing barrier around us. Then, with a flick of my wrist, we shot forward through the void, leaving behind only faint motes of violet light where Dante’s ashes should have been.

*****

Somewhere in the chained realm:

Vaelix hovered between the chains, one hand tucked behind his back. Princess Velaira and a line of Feran grandmasters stood behind him, eyes cold and waiting.

On the chains below, Anjee and Primus were locked in a brutal fight with four grandmasters. Both of them fighting two grandmaster each. The links beneath them trembled and cracked with every second.

Both Anjee and Primus were badly wounded, blood staining their fur and robes. One of the Ferans sneered and shouted up, “Tell us who that man is, Anjee. Or when I get back I’ll rip your family apart.”

Anjee’s reply was a raw roar. “Go on, try your best, you Ranthor bastard.”

Suddenly, Vaelix made a small sound and pressed two fingers to his forehead and pulled away. A blue orb of light came out floating before his eyes. He stared at it, then the glow warped and the orb blinked away with a soft poof.

Velaira covered her mouth, stunned. Vaelix’s calm face broke, surprise flared into fury. His eyes snapped red, and he bellowed, “VYNOR!”

Your gift is the motivation for my creation. Give me more motivation!