My Talent's Name Is Generator Chapter 656: Three Cities

I was already positioned in the sky above Horus, concealed within the folds of space, before the sun’s initial rays could grace the city.

Surrounding me, the world was bathed in shadow, silent and held in a peculiar, breathless state of suspension. Even the breeze appeared sluggish. It was that specific atmosphere a realm adopts just before a momentous event... a silence that only precedes the outbreak of war.

I allowed my perception to expand softly across the entirety of the city, brushing past every residence, every private hall, and every beating heart.

Primus was my first subject of observation. He was seated cross-legged in the training grounds behind Orobas’s quarters, with a subtle layer of heat radiating onto the stones beneath him. His eyelids were closed. His aura remained tranquil and serene, flowing in harmony with the wind. Threads of fire essence danced along the surface of his skin.

Next, my perception shifted toward the chamber of Orobas.

He was levitating at the epicenter of his ritual circle, enveloped by pulses of swirling blood-mist. Throughout the night, the circle beneath him had intensified in brilliance, as thick lines of crimson and black intertwined. His aged physique appeared revitalized, refreshed... and full of wrath.

He was stoking his power for the coming conflict.

Dorian was also awake, though he was not engaged in meditation. He sat in solitude within his room, legs crossed, sipping a dark liquor from a cup made of horn. His face was rigid but focused. A sword rested across his lap. Every few moments, he ran his thumb along the blade's edge, as if to confirm its presence.

Each man had a personal method of preparing for battle.

I directed my perception outward, moving away from the elites and into the narrow streets of Horus.

Though the sun had yet to crest the horizon, every household was awake. Every window glowed with light.

Hushed voices echoed through the thoroughfares.

“Do the Del Reys truly have the courage to face the challenge?”

“What will happen if the envoy steps in?”

“Our leader has called for war... we shall stand by his side.”

Some were busy honing their weapons. Others were deep in prayer. Some simply stood at their thresholds in silence, eyes fixed on the horizon.

I moved through the city without a sound.

Everywhere I gazed, a single sight dominated the view...

The red flags.

They were draped from every spire, every structure, and every gate. Crimson fabric snapped in the chilly wind, bearing the emblem of the Bloodreavers—a sword impaling a two-horned skull—with the name printed clearly below:

Bloodreaver.

It was a formal declaration of war.

A signal to every demon residing within their territories.

A direct defiance of the Del Reys.

Thousands of these banners were being hoisted at this very moment in every city under Bloodreaver control. Together, they created a massive proclamation, a vibrant red scream across the land of Armus.

Gather at the Valley of Warriors. Prepare for war.

Even the firmament seemed to grow heavier under their gaze.

I observed for several more minutes before vanishing, tearing through space to reach the Ronic capital.

The change in atmosphere was instantaneous.

While Horus was composed and disciplined, the Ronic capital was chaotic—filled with enraged shouts, the ring of metal, and the sound of blades grinding against plate.

My perception swept over the urban sprawl.

Demons were swarming the streets. Unlike the Bloodreavers, the Ronics were not preparing with stoicism. Their ancestor had been slain. Their restraint had vanished.

They hungered for vengeance.

Dozens marched openly, brandishing their weapons. Some screamed in fury, while others struck walls with their fists. Groups were congregating, ready to teleport to the Valley the second the sun rose.

A colossal violet flag hovered above the city center.

It bore the same skull-and-sword icon, but it was formed from thick purple smoke. This was their own war declaration. Every demon who looked upon that banner felt a fire ignite within them. I could sense it vividly. The Ronics were not interested in parley. They wanted blood.

I allowed the image to burn into my mind for a heartbeat, then departed.

There was one final location to inspect.

The capital of the Del Reys.

I arrived silently above it and immediately noticed the contrast.

The air here felt oppressive.

The entire city was gripped by tension. Shadows flickered in every alleyway. Families huddled at their windows, holding onto one another. Soldiers moved with frantic energy. Their ranks were disorganized, and their steps lacked rhythm.

Even their most powerful warriors seemed uncertain. They weren't getting ready to strike; they were preparing to defend. And they were doing so with desperation. This was not the behavior of a proud, self-assured military. This was a city that understood the odds were stacked against them.

The Bloodreavers approached from one side, the Ronics from the other. I shifted my focus toward Lana’s family.

Her father was in the war council hall, surrounded by tactical maps, crystals, and formation scrolls. Twelve demons stood nearby, all armed and hyper-aware. The room was thick with stress, but not quite fear. It was the anxiety of a clan readying for a brutal, expensive conflict while still believing they held the winning hand.

“We can surrender Zone 7 if necessary, but I expect all those grandmasters to be combat-ready in roughly an hour,” he ordered.

His voice was steady, nearly confident. The envoy supported them. Help from Dragos had been guaranteed. Those two certainties provided him with resolve.

However, one detail troubled him.

Romothese.

His gaze drifted toward a vacant mat at the side of the chamber.

“Is there still no word regarding my father?” he inquired of one of the demons.

“None. The envoy spent the night searching for him but found nothing.”

A muscle twitched in his jaw.

“And the Ronic ancestor... a soul flame was utilized?”

“Yes. It is confirmed.”

That caused him to pause. He stared at the map, lost in thought.

“Someone is clearly aiming for us. Someone with knowledge of our internal affairs. Someone who anticipated this conflict before it even began,” he whispered, eyeing each of the demons in the room.

Yet, even then, he did not lose his composure. He commanded further defensive layers and summoned backup units. Throughout the city, the Del Reys were mobilizing with all their might.

And yet...

Every plan, every reinforcement, and every bold command from Lana’s father was resting on a crumbling foundation. The reality he was unaware of was simple:

Romothese was gone. His backup would not arrive in time. And the tempest they were bracing for was far more devastating than they could imagine.

I hovered over the Del Rey capital for a few moments longer, witnessing the final breaths of peace. The sun had not yet risen, but Armus was fully awake.

Leaving the city behind, I accelerated toward the capital to meet Knight, ensuring the reinforcements would never have the opportunity to intervene.