My Talent's Name Is Generator

Chapter 754  Aftermath

Millions of abominations were erased in the instant the shockwave passed through them, their bodies disintegrating before sound or thought could form. Thousands of phantoms followed, their shrieks cut short as the explosion swallowed them whole.

The Ferans were not so fortunate.

”DEFEND!” their leading commander roared as the shattered remains of the asteroid came screaming toward their position, fragments tearing through the void like a meteor swarm.

I clicked my tongue.

This was unnecessary.

I activated the Right to Anchor.

My perception flared outward, sharp and absolute, locking onto every fragment at once. Every shard of rock. Every glowing remnant still carrying momentum.

”Stop.”

The debris froze mid-flight, suspended across the void in perfect stillness. Kinetic energy vanished as if it had never existed, motion stripped away and denied. What should have been annihilation became a silent constellation of glowing stone, hanging harmlessly in place.

The Ferans stared.

The battle was already over.

Notifications scrolled quietly across my vision as the aftermath settled.

[Level Up!]

[Level 417 → 433]

That was it.

I felt a flicker of surprise before it faded. For wiping out that many abominations and transcendent phantoms, the gain was… modest. Higher ranks were really different.

I scoffed inwardly and dismissed the notification.

Another notification surfaced then, tied to the captured Eternal.

I acknowledged it without hesitation.

A glowing portal opened behind the cocooned figure, its light sharp and precise, and the Eternal was pulled into it in an instant. The portal collapsed immediately after, leaving nothing behind.

My gaze lingered on the empty space where it had happened.

I didnʼt let any thoughts rise.

Then I stepped forward.

Space folded smoothly, and I arrived directly in front of the Feran command platform. My summons flashed into existence behind me one by one, their presence forming a quiet wall of pressure that made the surrounding Feran soldiers tense despite themselves.

The commander stood his ground.

He was tall, broad-shouldered, his hybrid tiger form only partially manifested. Faint stripes ran along his arms and neck, glowing softly with Essence, while sharp golden eyes studied me without panic, only stunned disbelief. His armor bore the crest of the Ferans, scorched and cracked but still intact.

He looked at me in silence for a few seconds longer.

”Kepal Ranthor,” he said, voice steady despite the chaos still fading around us. ”Commander of this fort.”

His golden eyes narrowed slightly as he studied me again.

”May I ask who you are?” he asked.

”Billion Ironhart. Order Of Absolute.” I replied.

A ripple ran through the Feran ranks as the name spread. The commanderʼs ears twitched, his expression shifting from shock into something closer to grim understanding.

”So itʼs true,” he murmured. ”Dragos. The Grade Four Rift. The rumors werenʼt exaggerations.”

”You are right,” I replied calmly.

I glanced past him, at the wounded, at the exhausted soldiers still holding defensive lines out of habit more than necessity. ”We interfered,” I added evenly. ”I hope you donʼt mind.”

For a moment, I thought he might bristle.

Instead, Ranthor shook his head slowly, a short huff of breath leaving him. ”Mind?” he said. ”No. Of course not.”

He straightened, posture formal now, claws retracting slightly as his aura settled. ”Closing a rift is never something to object to. Especially not like this.” His eyes flicked again to the void where the rift was. ”No casualties on our side. Not a single ship lost. I can not ask anything more.”

There was something like relief in his voice, layered beneath the professionalism.

”Iʼm grateful,” he said. ”Truly. This rift has bled us for years.”

I nodded once. ”Then our goals align.”

He hesitated, then asked, ”Was this… intentional? Choosing a Feran-held rift?”

”I chose a Grade 4 Rift in Sector Zero,” I answered. ”Ownership wasnʼt a factor.”

That earned a short, surprised laugh from him.

Before he could respond, the space where the rift had been began to change.

A pressure descended, subtle but unmistakable.

I felt it immediately.

The System moved.

Six enormous runes materialized in the void, three above the riftʼs location and three below. They were something older, neutral in color but absolute in form, each rune larger than a battleship, rotating slowly in perfect synchronization.

The Feran soldiers gasped.

”What is that?” someone whispered.

”The System,” Ranthor said quietly, awe slipping into his tone despite himself.

The runes descended.

The torn edges of space resisted briefly, shuddering as if unwilling to close, before the runes tightened their formation.

Slowly, methodically, the rift sealed.

When the final thread of distortion vanished, the runes dissolved into nothing, leaving behind smooth, uninterrupted void.

Silence followed.

Ranthor let out a breath heʼd clearly been holding. ”Itʼs really gone.”

”Yes,” I said. ”Completely. It is a fascinating sight for sure.”

My mind buzzed as the patterns of the runes burned themselves into my perception. I committed every detail to memory, already turning them over. I wanted to be able to close a rift myself and not wait for the System. Or maybe even open a rift myself.

Kepal turned back to me, expression complicated now. Gratitude, caution, and something else beneath it. Calculation, perhaps.

”I wonʼt pretend this wonʼt reach our headquarters,” he said. ”Or that certain people wonʼt have… opinions.”

”I expect they will,” I replied.

He dipped his head, respectful despite the tension. ”Regardless of politics, you saved lives today. Feran lives. That wonʼt be forgotten.”

The silence hadnʼt fully settled when the portal on the Feranʼs asteroid shuddered.

Space rippled, distorted for a brief instant, and then figures stepped through in quick succession. Ferans. All of them. Their auras were controlled but unmistakable, six Transcendents fanning out instinctively as they cleared the threshold. At their center stood an older tiger-kin, his stripes muted with age, and slightly hunched posture.

They flashed forward together and stopped a short distance from us.

The older Feranʼs gaze swept the battlefield once, took in the sealed void where the rift had been, the shattered asteroid, my summons behind me and then locked onto my face. His eyes widened just a fraction.

”…Are you from the Order of Absolute?” he asked.

I nodded.

He turned back toward the empty space where the rift had existed, clearly preparing to speak, then stopped himself. He cleared his throat, composure returning.

”Thank you,” he said instead. ”For closing this rift.” He inclined his head. ”I am Shera Ranthor. May I ask how you came upon this battlefield?”

”We were drifting through the sector,” I replied evenly. ”Came across the rift. Decided to help.”

Shera studied me for a moment longer, then nodded, genuine appreciation visible in his eyes. ”In that case,” he said, ”I would formally invite you to Feradros.”

I smiled faintly. ”It would be my honor.”