My Talent's Name Is Generator Chapter 663: Changing Dynamics

Without warning, Primus dismissed his blade. The scorching flames dancing across his skin flickered out, leaving behind nothing but the sheer weight of his aura. Floating with crossed arms, he stared down at Gyros with a look of disdain, as if the envoy were merely a child throwing a fit.

"Gyros," Primus spoke with an eerie calm, "I shall remain right here. Should you manage to even graze me, I will concede this as my defeat."

Gyros’ eyes stretched wide before burning with a mixture of fury and shame. His jaw tightened and his aura began to oscillate violently.

Finally, his restraint snapped.

"Domain!" he bellowed.

Particles of crimson fire swarmed outward like a hive of insects. A shockwave rippled through the earth, and molten magma geysered upward as a massive, orange-red domain expanded to encase them. Heat distorted the very air as the space closed around Primus and Gyros.

Yet, before Gyros could make a move, Primus uttered a single command.

"Explode."

For a fleeting heartbeat, the entire domain turned static before it fractured like brittle glass.

BOOM!

The lava, the crushing pressure, and the burning seals were all obliterated in an instant.

Gyros recoiled, spitting blood, his expression masked in pure disbelief.

I let out a private smile.

That was Ragnar’s doing; he had crushed the domain from the shadows without exposing his presence. Gyros remained oblivious. To him and the gathered witnesses, it appeared as though Primus had performed the feat effortlessly.

"Try again, Gyros," Primus provoked him.

The envoy’s mind finally shattered.

"AHHHHHHH!!"

Abandoning all reason, he lunged forward. Flames erupted from his soles, propelling him toward Primus like a searing projectile.

He failed to even get close.

Before he could bridge the five-foot gap to Primus, his momentum ceased as his body froze in mid-air. A second later, he was hammered straight into the dirt.

BOOM!!

The impact was so severe the ground split apart, sending plumes of dust into the sky. Gyros let out a pained groan, his trembling arms barely able to support his weight. Blood seeped from his brow. His gaze was vacant, filled with a cocktail of confusion and dread.

Primus’ voice drifted over the field of battle, frigid and deliberate.

"I am granting you a final opportunity, Gyros," Primus declared. "This is your last chance to regain even a fragment of the pride you forfeited today."

Gasping for air and shaking uncontrollably, Gyros forced himself to stand. Blood dripped from his jaw. He attempted to take flight once more, but as soon as he unleashed his aura, his frame shuddered as if being crushed by unseen shackles.

Suddenly, the gravity pressing down on him tripled.

His legs gave way, and—

BOOM!

He was slammed back into the earth, the crater deepening around his broken form. Shards of stone and dust kicked up as he lay there, whimpering in agony.

Primus exhaled a weary, long-drawn sigh.

"You are pathetic," he remarked. "Begone."

With a lift of his hand, Gyros’ mangled body rose into the air like a discarded doll. Then, Primus made a sharp flick of his wrist.

Gyros was launched across the battlefield with such velocity that he vanished past the horizon, exiled completely from the Valley of Warriors.

Without sparing a glance toward the flying envoy, Primus turned to the assembled legions. His aura surged, and his voice resonated through the valley like a clap of thunder.

"The Del Rey heads—Romothese, Herald, and Lana Del Rey—conspired with the Eternals and foreign powers to seize Armus for their own gain," Primus proclaimed. "As of this moment, Armus is the property of the Bloodreaver family."

The very valley seemed to tremble under the gravity of his words.

"We shall be the shield of this world," Primus went on, "and from this day, we shall be the instrument of Armus’ vengeance."

He scanned the thousands of demons, Ronics, Bloodreavers, and the remnants of the Del Rey forces. His presence was so suffocating that even the Grandmasters lowered their heads in submission.

"Does anyone," Primus asked, his tone laced with a dark threat, "wish to object?"

His eyes swept the field, but it was obvious to all who his true target was.

Platius.

Primus stared him down, unmoving, waiting for a response.

Platius met the gaze. His jaw set firmly and he swallowed hard as the silence lingered... until the massive tree summoned by Lyrate let out a loud groan amidst the Del Rey corpses. Its roots shifted, grinding against the stone.

The surrounding demons flinched, feeling as though the specter of death had just whispered in their ears.

The warning was unmistakable: choose your path carefully.

At last, Platius took a sharp breath and raised his head.

"The Ronics offer no objection," he announced, his voice echoing across the terrain.

Primus gave a curt nod, appearing as though the outcome was never in doubt.

His attention then moved toward Orobas.

Orobas was already wearing a wide smirk. His aura hissed with excitement as he broke into a boisterous laugh.

"The Bloodreavers certainly have no objection!" he yelled.

A deafening cheer rose from the Bloodreaver ranks, vibrating through the fractured earth. Their shouts rolled over the charred landscape like the beating of war drums.

Primus waited for the roar to subside before raising a hand for silence.

When he spoke again, he did so with total command.

"Every Grandmaster of the Del Rey family is to be taken into custody," Primus ordered. "All surviving troops are to report to the Bloodreaver officers."

He paused, ensuring his words took root.

"All territories under Del Rey control will be placed under lockdown and searched for Eternal influence." His voice grew sharp. "No one departs those cities without authorization. Furthermore, the capital of Armus is now the capital of the Bloodreavers."

Another moment of silence passed.

"Begin the deployment."

The command swept through the area like an absolute decree. Demons stood tall. Ranks shifted. War banners were unfurled once more—this time in crimson, rising over the shattered blue colors of the defeated Del Reys.

The Bloodreaver officers acted immediately. They began by collecting the remaining Del Rey Grandmasters; those still able to walk were bound in scarlet chains, while the wounded were hauled away without pity.

The Del Rey masters were herded into a compact group, encircled by dense rows of guards. They offered no fight. Most appeared too stunned or overwhelmed by fear to resist.

Lyrate’s colossal tree remained looming behind them, its roots twisting and turning like wooden serpents. Even in its stillness, it breathed out a sense of lethal danger. Every Del Rey demon kept a wary eye on it, fearing a single mistake would spark another bloodbath.

Of the million soldiers who had originally arrived, perhaps only a hundred thousand survived. The rest had been consumed by the massive devastation. Over ninety percent of their Grandmasters had perished.

A bolt of azure lightning streaked across the ravaged field.

Steve materialized by Primus, his skin still vibrating with residual electricity. North followed an instant later, the wind swirling around her twin blades. Finally, Silver deactivated the colossal wind wall he had maintained. As it dissolved, thousands of mangled corpses fell to the earth like withered leaves.

I felt a mental nudge.

'I have him,' Knight’s steady voice rang through our mental link.

A faint smile touched my lips.

'Excellent. Give him a taste of agony. Ensure he never dares to look toward Armus again.'

He had captured Gyros. The envoy had been snatched right from the heart of the conflict without a soul noticing.