My Talent's Name Is Generator Chapter 683: An Absolute Wall

Then there were the rifts, the anomalies that have dictated the destiny of our cosmos for ages, categorized from Grade 3 down to Grade 1.

Grade 3 rifts were legitimate battlefields.

In these zones, Transcendent Eternals were fully mobilized, not merely manifesting their influence but wielding absolute authority. Alongside the Phantoms and Abominations, massive armies directly linked to the Eternal forces marched—the true denizens of the Eternal Universe. In these sectors, Laws collided violently, and the fabric of space itself became unstable. Should a Grade 3 rift stabilize without being suppressed, entire star systems could vanish.

Grade 2 rifts were discussed only with a sense of dread.

I had never personally accessed comprehensive records regarding them.

These were the domains where Saints waged war. Standard military doctrines failed here, as entire frameworks of Laws were bent or discarded just to maintain the front. In these regions, casualties were not measured in lives, but in the loss of star systems. Conflicts at this magnitude were infrequent but utterly ruinous.

Grade 1 rifts were little more than legends to me.

No transparent documentation existed—no trustworthy accounts, only vague rumors and grim premonitions. One truth remained certain: these were the coordinates closest to the heart of the struggle, where the supreme powers of both universes met in direct opposition. Whatever transpired there defied all traditional logic. These were not mere defensive lines to be guarded; they were the rifts that would ultimately determine if we would be devoured by the Eternals or if we would endure.

And we were currently navigating toward a Grade 4 rift.

This rift had been active for many years. It fell under the jurisdiction of our galaxy’s Demon Monarch, with demon battalions serving as the primary defense. While other races, mercenary outfits, and rogue powers were permitted to join the fray, the responsibility of holding the line fell squarely upon the demons.

Should this rift ever expand, it would be their failure to answer for.

As if triggered by that realization, alarm lights began to flash across the vessel's control consoles. A piercing tone rang through the observation deck, forcing everyone to look at the displays.

The screen soon cleared, revealing a thick cluster of debris hurtling at immense speeds directly in our path. We turned our eyes from the monitors to the dark vacuum ahead.

The objects floating there were not merely random space junk. They were the pulverized remains of a military installation. Jagged metal, ruptured bulkheads, and shattered decks drifted through the void, their surfaces blackened and twisted.

"It looks like what's left of a demon defensive fort," Primus spoke in a low voice.

The alarm continued its rhythmic pulsing. I pushed my awareness outward, reaching into the cold vacuum. With a simple mental command, I nudged the massive wreckage aside, warping space just enough to alter its trajectory without affecting its speed.

Our vessel glided safely past the ruins.

Beyond that first cluster lay even more silent fragments: crippled ships, demolished fort segments, and pieces of artificial terrain that had once been anchoring hubs. None of them showed the heat of recent destruction.

This wasn't a fresh site of slaughter. It was the legacy of a conflict that had been fought, mended, and then fought again.

As we ventured deeper, the surrounding Essence became increasingly erratic.

Initially, it was subtle, undetectable to anyone not actively probing the environment. But soon, the turbulence grew more pronounced. Erratic pulses rippled through the vacuum, spreading like the tremors of a distant impact. The natural flow of Essence warped and spiraled as these waves moved through, breaking its harmony before gradually quieting down.

Something was occurring further ahead—close enough that the shockwaves were bleeding into this sector.

I deepened my focus, stretching my perception further. These ripples carried a recognizable weight—heavy, suffocating, and pressed into the Laws like a foreign seal. Violent collisions. I realized what it signified: clashes between domains so potent they disturbed the Essence across immense distances.

Then, we encountered the corpses.

They drifted through the dark, scattered haphazardly among the debris. Most were demons, their bodies mangled or incomplete—limbs severed or entire torsos erased by clean strikes rather than blunt force. Abominations drifted among the dead, their twisted forms remaining unstable even in their lifeless state.

There were others as well. Various races. Entities I did not recognize—beings who had traveled here for gold, honor, or out of pure desperation, only to never return. There was no movement. No signs of life. Only the slow, silent spinning of bodies in the void.

As I pushed my senses further, I detected another element mingling with the Essence stream. It was faint, nearly invisible.

Deathmist.

Only remnants of it lingered, thinned out enough to be harmless, but it was unmistakable. It moved with the Essence like the soot left behind after something far more terrifying had passed.

We pressed on.

Suddenly, the temperature around the hull rose sharply. It wasn't enough to trip the ship's sensors, but it was palpable to the senses.

An elemental pocket.

We were traversing a sector where Fire Laws had once flared and never fully dissipated. Space itself held onto the heat like a permanent scar. Instinctively, I reached out to smooth the warped Essence, balancing the disharmony so the vessel could pass through without incident.

Further ahead, I sensed even more.

Pockets of intense cold. Sectors where the pull of gravity was unnaturally heavy. Zones where wind Essence swirled despite the lack of air. Every single one was a lingering mark from battles of the past.

This region of space remembered the violence. Everything we witnessed told the same story: we were nearing the front lines.

I slowed the ship's engines and fully expanded my perception, wrapping it around us like a secondary shield in every direction.

"Are we getting close?" Steve inquired. His tone was strained, and his hand was already gripping the hilt of his blade. "I feel... something. It’s making me uneasy."

"I feel it too," North whispered, her eyes locked on the space ahead. She remained still, but her stance had become alert.

I narrowed my gaze.

I didn't feel any dread. There was no immediate chaos in the local Essence, no active battle, no violent warping. Everything was... tranquil.

Too tranquil.

To confirm my suspicions, I triggered Right to Insight.

The void was transformed.

The layers of reality peeled away, and what had appeared to be empty space gained a defined structure. Lines of Essence became visible to my eyes. Law imprints manifested. And then, I saw it.

A wall.

It spanned the void in front of us, massive beyond comprehension. An invisible barricade standing where there should have been a vacuum. It wasn't something visible to the naked eye, but through my heightened perception, faint runes pulsed and drifted across it like a living language.

The wall didn't curve toward a center.

It stretched on forever.

As far as my senses could reach—left, right, above, and below—the wall existed. It was a seamless boundary slicing through space, separating regions of the void with total accuracy.

Runes flowed across its surface in rhythmic patterns; some glowed while others faded, reacting quietly to the Essence nearby. They weren't hostile, nor were they dormant. They simply... were.

I sensed no malice from it. No danger. This wasn't a fortification for war. It was a boundary—a silent, absolute line drawn before the conflict itself. Perhaps it served as a sensor to notify others of an intrusion.

I exhaled slowly.

"We have arrived," I finally announced.