My Talent's Name Is Generator

Chapter 598: Vision From The Book

I spent the next month in that secluded space, and the silence became familiar, almost comforting. Every corner of the realm had been explored, every stone turned over, every lake of Essence studied until I could sense the smallest ripple blindfolded.

Now I stood in front of the simple table and chair where the book waited for me. The sign beside it still carried the same message in neat handwriting: Only for the Executor :)

I exhaled slowly.

In this month, I had combed the entire place clean. I refined my laws until they felt sharper and easier to control, polished my skills, experimented with combinations, and pushed my domain to a stable and almost complete form. The only thing left for me here was ranking up.

But before that... I wanted to know about this book. The being hinted that it held answers, and I wasn’t going to walk away without reading it.

I pulled the chair back and sank into it. The book felt warm against my palms as I opened the cover.

The first page greeted me with a single vertical eye drawn at the center, staring directly at me. Above it was the title:

The Beginnings.

I blinked.

And then my vision stretched, pulled like a thread caught by invisible hands.

The world around me warped, colors draining out, sound collapsing into silence.

And the next thing I knew... I was standing somewhere else entirely.

****

The darkness around me thinned like mist, and a moment later I found myself standing inside a huge hall.

It looked like the heart of a castle.The ceiling rose so high it disappeared into shadows, held up by black stone pillars carved with symbols I didn’t recognize. Torches lined the walls, but their flames didn’t give off real light; they only glowed faintly, as if afraid of the people gathered here.

Powerful people.

Their shapes weren’t clear. Their faces were blurry, their outlines shifting, but their presence was impossible to ignore.

Each one gave off an aura so heavy it felt like standing under a mountain. I couldn’t see their features, yet I understood instantly who held power and who obeyed.

At the far end of the hall stood a tall throne made of dark material, almost like a giant piece of night sky shaped into a seat.

An individual sat on it, straight-backed, calm, and terrifying. The aura around him made everything else feel small. The others sat in rows of chairs below him, clearly his subordinates.

One of them rose.

He stepped to the center of the hall.

”My lord,” he said, voice echoing slightly, ”I believe we should meet the boy. We haven’t seen such talent in millennia. Even though he is a hybrid and not pure-blood, he may be of great use to us in the future.”

Silence fell.

Every head in the hall turned toward the figure on the throne.

For a few long breaths, no one moved. Then the lord finally spoke.

”Summon him.”

The subordinate bowed deeply. Then, without warning, he vanished.

Not teleported, disappeared.

I sensed no Essence, no distortion in space, nothing. He was simply there one moment and gone the next.

And then, in the very next breath, he returned, standing exactly where he had been before, bowing again before taking his seat.

I watched everything quietly, my thoughts spinning. Was this boy going to be the chained fallen? The idea made my chest tighten with anticipation.

Seconds passed, long and heavy. No one in the hall spoke. Their blurry silhouettes stayed perfectly still, like shadows carved out of fog. I wished I could see their real faces, at least enough to guess what kind of expressions they were making but no matter how hard I tried, they remained unclear to me.

Then, the massive doors at the far end of the hall groaned. The deep sound echoed through the chamber, pulling my attention instantly. I turned my head toward the noise, my heartbeat rising.

A thin line of light appeared as the doors opened a little... then a bit more... and finally enough for someone to enter.

A boy walked in.

He looked no older than ten or eleven, and unlike everyone else, he wasn’t blurry at all. I saw him clearly, painfully clearly, as if the world wanted me to remember every detail of him.

His skin was ash-gray, smooth, almost stone-like, but alive. His hair was messy and white, falling over his forehead and sticking out in wild uneven strands. His eyes were bright red, not slit or glowing, just... red. Sharp. Focused. Too aware for a child.

Behind him, a pair of black wings dragged across the polished floor. They looked heavy, not fully spread, feathered but slightly rough, like they had seen battles despite his young age.

He wore simple animal hide clothing, rough and stitched together, nothing royal or elegant, like he had been living far away from places like this.

And yet, the moment he stepped into the hall, every blurred figure straightened in their seats. Even the throne room’s air felt different.

He carried a naked sword in his hand as he walked forward, the metal gleaming under the faint light of the hall.

His steps were slow and deliberate, almost cautious, but there was no fear in the way he looked at the people seated around him. He scanned each blurred figure one by one, as if weighing them... judging them.

Then he finally lifted his head and stared straight at the throne.

He stopped moving.

The entire hall seemed to inhale at once.

The boy shifted the sword, planted its tip gently onto the floor, and placed both hands on top of the hilt. His small fingers curled around the metal with quiet confidence.

When he spoke, his voice surprised me, it was far too steady and mature for someone his age.

”Why was I summoned?”

The question hung in the air like a challenge, not a greeting.

Before the lord could answer, the same subordinate who had fetched him earlier stepped forward and spoke in a calm, even tone.

”Speak with manners. You stand before the Lord.”

He didn’t sound offended or angry. It was more like he was correcting a child who didn’t know the rules of the world.

The boy didn’t flinch. He simply turned his head slowly, red eyes locking onto the being.

”Manners?” he repeated. ”What is that?”

There was no sarcasm. No mockery. Just simple confusion. Like he was hearing the word for the first time.

The being let out a tired sigh, bowed to the lord, then straightened up with a weary look, at least, I assumed it was a weary look. His face was still too blurry for me to read anything clearly.

”I apologize, my lord,” he said. ”The place he comes from is... uncivilized.”

The lord on the throne lifted a hand, a small wave, cutting him off. His attention never shifted away from the boy. His interest was clear even though his features remained hidden.

And I watched the two of them facing each other across the hall.

One sitting on a throne of authority.

And one standing with a naked sword, ash-gray skin, and dragging black wings... completely fearless.