My Talent's Name Is Generator Chapter 662: Humiliating Gyros

A deep sigh from Aurora suddenly echoed within my mind.

’Arguing with such an immature girl is a waste of time.’

Lyrate went rigid.

’What was that?’ she demanded, her tone thick with indignation.

’She called you childish,’ Ragnar chimed in immediately, his laughter suggesting this was the highlight of his afternoon.

’Ragnar, I can hear her perfectly well,’ Lyrate snapped back.

’Then why did you feel the need to ask?’ Ragnar countered, sounding genuinely perplexed.

Aurora let out a soft chuckle. ’My point exactly.’

’You moron,’ Lyrate hissed. I felt her rage sharpen like a blade’s edge. She made a sudden downward motion with her hand. The colossal tree she had called forth trembled violently as dozens of massive roots erupted from the earth like spears, impaling the dazed Del Rey grandmasters.

The formation on the ground was obliterated. Absolute chaos swallowed the Del Rey army as they fled in every direction, but the roots shredded through their ranks, formations, and even their defensive arrays as if they were nothing more than wet paper.

"NOOOOO!" Herald’s desperate cry rang across the field of slaughter.

He barely had a moment to look up before Primus manifested above him in a blur. A knee wreathed in flames smashed into Herald’s skull, sending him hurtling toward the earth like a broken stone. The ground fractured under the force of his impact.

Crashing down beside him, Primus seized Herald by the hair and forced his shattered body upward.

His voice trembled with suppressed fury.

"If Armus was your goal," he ground out through clenched teeth, "you should have faced us as warriors. If you wanted Armus, you could have plotted from the darkness and challenged us yourself."

He hauled Herald closer until their faces were inches apart.

"But to infiltrate my home with your whore of a daughter... to abandon an innocent child you never gave a damn about... I have never encountered filth like you."

Primus’s blade flashed before Herald could utter a word.

A precise, searing arc of crimson fire sliced through the air.

Herald’s head was severed from his shoulders, rolling across the blood-stained earth.

For a single heartbeat, the battlefield fell silent. Then, a thunderous roar of victory erupted from the Bloodreavers.

In contrast, the Ronic grandmasters exchanged worried glances. Primus’s effortless execution of Herald was more than just a win—it was a proclamation. The Bloodreavers had established themselves as the undisputed masters of Armus.

The death of Herald extinguished the last sparks of bravery in the Del Rey army. Panic surged through their lines. Demons abandoned their posts, sprinting desperately toward the teleportation gate they had established at the rear of their forces.

’That's my signal,’ Silver murmured through the mental link.

A powerful sonic boom shook the air as he accelerated. His wings sliced through the atmosphere like swords as he touched down directly in front of the portal.

He raised both palms.

A tempest of wind exploded outward, creating a massive barricade—a rotating wall of high-pressure air and razor-sharp wind blades. Demons crashed into the barrier. Those who attempted to force their way through were instantly butchered, shredded before a scream could leave their throats.

The retreating army recoiled in sheer horror, but there was no safety behind them.

Lyrate’s towering tree loomed like a silent executioner. Roots surged again, sweeping through the ranks, tossing soldiers aside, impaling them, or crushing them under sheer weight. The valley was filled with their agonized cries.

Then—

"STOPPPPPP!"

A frantic shout reverberated across the carnage.

A smile touched my lips. The envoy had finally shown his face.

Gyros streaked across the sky like a panicked comet. He pulled up above the trapped Del Rey forces, his chest heaving as if he had traveled across the entire continent in one go.

His gaze swept over the destruction: the fallen Del Rey elites, the severed limbs, the pools of gore, and finally, the headless remains of Herald.

His face shifted from shock to panic, then finally to fury.

"Orobas! Platius!" Gyros bellowed. "How dare you ignite this conflict?! I gave direct orders against this!"

Every demon went still. Even the branches of Lyrate’s terrifying tree paused their assault.

"Gyros."

Primus’s voice boomed through the valley like a clap of thunder.

He ascended into the air until he was level with the envoy.

"I have been expecting you," Primus remarked with chilling calm. "Tell me... you were in league with the Del Reys, weren't you? You know Lana's location. You assisted her. You conspired with her to bring this ruin to Armus."

Gyros stood his ground.

"Do not attempt to distort the truth, Primus. Look at the slaughter here!" he yelled. "Countless demons have perished today because of your paranoid claims! The abomination zones are now undefended! Armus will pay the price for your family's pride!"

"Is that how it is?" Primus gave a freezing smile. "Then tell me, envoy... do you intend to hold us to account? I would love to see how you plan to manage that."

For a moment, Gyros faltered. His eyes flickered toward Orobas.

"Orobas! Do you hear this? Is your family in open revolt?" His voice cracked under the pressure.

But Orobas remained silent, merely watching Primus with eyes that glowed like embers.

Primus let out a low laugh and drifted closer. The flames surrounding him intensified.

"Gyros... it seems you’ve overlooked a vital piece of history."

He opened his arms wide.

"The Demon Monarch claimed his throne only after crushing the skulls of several envoys. When his realm was at risk—just as Armus is today—he sent an envoy's head back as a message."

Gyros’s face drained of color.

Primus pressed on.

"However, your life doesn't interest me." Fire erupted across his form in a violent bloom. "I am only interested in your qualifications."

In a flash, he lunged forward.

He appeared inches from Gyros, his face framed by a roaring crown of fire.

"Prove to me today," Primus whispered, "that you actually deserve the title of envoy of Armus."

Primus didn't wait for a reply.

His fist shot out, encased in a swirling mass of red heat.

BOOM!

Gyros managed to block with his arm, but the sheer force sent him tumbling backward through the sky. Before he could even draw breath, Primus was upon him again, emerging from the smoke like a predator.

With a roar, Gyros finally unsheathed his sword. It was a long black blade that hummed with the power of compressed fire essence. He swung upward, tearing gaps in space like shredded fabric. Primus spiraled away, leaving a trail of embers, and countered with a savage downward strike.

CLANG!

The collision of their steel sent shockwaves rippling through the heavens. They traded blows—fast, vicious, and without mercy. Every impact showered the sky in sparks and flames. Every movement Primus made seemed to crack the very air. Gyros struggled to regain his footing, but Primus refused to give him a second of respite.

The envoy managed a desperate thrust toward Primus’s heart. Primus simply knocked the blade aside with his forearm, allowing the edge to leave a shallow cut. He didn't even flinch.

"You fight like a paper-pusher," Primus roared.

His knee drove hard into Gyros’s ribs.

Crack.

The envoy gasped, his eyes bulging.

Seizing him by the throat, Primus spun and hurled him toward the ground.

Gyros slammed into the earth, skidding through stone and corpses before coming to a violent halt. He spat out blood, his face a mask of shock. Before he could even try to stand, Primus descended upon him like a falling star.

He brought his foot down in a heavy stomp. The envoy barely rolled clear as his cloak caught fire from the resulting explosion.

Primus’s mocking laughter filled the area.

"The Envoy of Armus? This pathetic display is your best?! At least try to look like you earned your rank!"

Gyros clenched his teeth and struggled to his feet, but the truth was obvious to everyone present:

Primus was completely overwhelming him.