My Talent's Name Is Generator

Chapter 715: Broken

Deathmist burst outward in violent waves, spilling into the void as the weapon systems failed catastrophically. The energy meant to annihilate the demon army turned inward instead, shredding conduits, cracking mounts, and sending fragments spinning into nothingness.

There was no single massive blast. No dramatic collapse.

Just systematic destruction.

Forty-three thousand weapons died before they could fire a single shot.

The deathmist dispersed chaotically, its control shattered, its purpose denied. The Eternal’s defensive line didn’t fall with a scream. It failed with silence, one instant armed, the next instant broken.

”Is that all you’ve got?” Ragnar’s voice echoed through the void.

He floated at the center of the chaos, wrapped in a blazing silver aura that burned like a living star. Abominations were crushed flat around him, their remains drifting apart as his presence alone warped the space nearby.

One Transcendent General was caught in his tail, wrapped tight and struggling, its armor cracking under the pressure. Another was trapped in his palm, Ragnar’s fingers digging into its helmet as the phantom thrashed wildly.

Ragnar roared.

Then he moved.

With raw, merciless strength, he pulled.

The phantom in his grasp was torn apart, its body splitting in two as if it were nothing more than fragile cloth. Its scream ripped through the void, sharp and desperate, echoing directly into the minds of every demon on the field.

The sound didn’t inspire fear.

It ignited them.

The demons roared back, their charge growing fiercer as Ragnar let the broken remains drift away, already turning toward his next target, eyes burning with battle madness.

Two more Transcendent Generals moved at the same time.

They simply shifted their positions, slipping through the void with practiced precision until Ragnar was no longer facing forward, but being closed in from three sides. Their auras pressed inward, heavy and cold, trying to slow him down, trying to drown his momentum under sheer pressure.

Ragnar laughed.

Around him, the demon captains finally stopped holding back. Domains bloomed one after another, violent colors tearing into the void as orders were passed without words. The rushing army surged harder, faster, like a tide that had finally broken its restraints. Even the traitors embedded among them had no choice now. The push was too strong. The pressure too absolute. Hesitation meant death, so they followed, even if their hearts were not in it.

That was when we made the final push.

Lyrate moved first.

She stepped forward calmly, almost gently, and brought her hands together as if in prayer. Her lips curved into a soft smile, one that did not belong on a battlefield.

”Beautiful wish,” she whispered.

A green ripple spread out from her body. It passed through the charging demon army like a warm breath, flowing over armor, skin, and Essence alike. Then the void changed.

Butterflies appeared.

At first only a few, pale green and softly glowing. Then hundreds. Then thousands. Then millions.

They materialized from nothing, wings shimmering as they flew through the void in endless streams. They landed on demons mid-charge, settling on cracked armor, torn flesh, shattered limbs. Wherever they touched, injuries closed. Bones realigned. Blood evaporated into clean Essence. Exhaustion was peeled away layer by layer.

Demons who should have fallen straightened instead.

Those on the edge of collapse roared and surged forward again, eyes blazing as hope reignited inside them.

The butterflies did not stop.

They spread across the battlefield, a living tide of green against the darkness, healing, restoring, refusing to let the charge die.

Lyrate laughed softly.

Then her smile widened.

”Dance for me.”

The words carried power.

The abominations rushing forward suddenly faltered. Their bodies began to shake violently, movements jerking and uneven. Then something tore out from inside them.

Vines.

Roots.

Branches.

Vegetation burst through black flesh and twisted bone, growing at terrifying speed. What started as a few strands became thickets, then forests, spreading like a living plague through the Eternal army. Abominations screamed as their bodies were consumed from within, frozen in place as trees erupted where monsters had stood moments before.

In the void, a forest bloomed.

Not one or two.

Hundreds of thousands of abominations were caught at once, their advance halted completely as living green claimed them.

Lyrate waved her hand.

Her sword appeared in her grip.

She slashed once, clean and horizontal.

The forest fell.

Like weeds cut at the root, the trapped abominations were severed, their bodies collapsing into lifeless fragments as the vegetation withered instantly. Lyrate surged forward, leading the charge herself now, and under shouted orders from the captains, a large section of the demon army split off to follow her.

The spear charge split into two.

The Eternal forces reacted immediately.

One of the remaining Generals roared and split his army as well, redirecting massive numbers to intercept Lyrate’s path, determined to stop her advance at any cost.

That was when the cry echoed.

A sharp, piercing call that cut through every sound in the void.

My Essence reserves dipped violently, so suddenly that my breath caught.

I looked up.

Silver.

He had been fighting quietly until now. But this was different. Crimson mist poured from his body as his form expanded, bones reshaping, wings unfolding wider and wider until they blocked the stars themselves.

An enormous steel hawk emerged beneath the demon army.

Its wingspan covered nearly a quarter of the core layer structures. Crimson mist rolled from his wings like a tsunami, his aura exploding outward and dwarfing even Ragnar’s presence.

”Get on,” Silver’s voice echoed, deep and vast.

For a heartbeat, the demons froze.

Then instinct took over.

They landed atop his back by the thousands, then tens of thousands, then hundreds of thousands, covering him like armor made of living will. His wings beat once.

The sound was like the heartbeat of the void itself.

And then, like a crimson beam of concentrated destruction, Silver charged forward.

Ragnar smashed ahead. Lyrate cut a path to the side.

And between them, carried by a living god of steel and mist, the demon army slammed directly into the first layer of the Eternal defenses.