My Talent's Name Is Generator Chapter 692: The Rift

Shortly after their conversation with Saleos concluded, Dravon, Mazikeen, and Korvath made their way back to our vessel.

Their countenances were professional and steady. Whatever choice they had reached remained hidden behind a mask of discipline. I offered no reaction and kept my comments to myself, making sure not to reveal that I had eavesdropped on their private talk. If they preferred to act as though this path was their own invention, I was perfectly content to play along.

A subtle grin eventually touched Dravon's lips. "I’ve decided to move forward and place my bets on you," he stated simply. "Should this succeed, it will be a legendary feat. If it fails... I will accept the full weight of the blame."

I met his eyes and reached out my hand. Without a moment's pause, he gripped it.

Standing beside me, Aurora let out a soft laugh. "A wise move, kid," she remarked, giving Dravon a slap on the shoulder that was perhaps a bit too forceful. "Most people would have spent much longer hesitating before jumping on such a golden chance."

Dravon chuckled softly, giving his head a slow shake. "I suspected that any further hesitation would only prove more costly."

He shifted his stance slightly, indicating Korvath with a nod.

"Korvath will stay behind to oversee your vessel. It will be kept under strict guard."

I gave a small nod of agreement. "That is acceptable."

Neither party showed any doubt. Moments later, we transitioned between ships, boarding Dravon’s craft. The environment inside was immediately distinct—it felt older and more substantial, engineered for prolonged campaigns rather than luxury or speed. The bulkheads were marked with faint thermal scarring, evidence of countless repairs made during years of service on the frontlines.

As we began our journey, Dravon turned to address us.

"Before we proceed further," he began, "you need to comprehend the nature of the place you are entering."

The expanse of the void ahead appeared... desolate.

"Every active rift is surrounded by two distinct containment barriers," he went on. "The first is the detection wall, which you have already encountered."

I nodded in understanding. "A monitoring net. It isn't built to block anyone, only to ensure that no one crosses through without being noticed."

Dravon offered a thin, knowing smile. "Precisely. It encompasses the entire theater of operations. It tracks Essence flow, spatial tremors, law fluctuations, and even the smallest hints of deathmist. That barrier was forged by Saints."

As the ship pushed onward, I felt the change before I could see it.

A weight descended—subtle, yet impossible to ignore.

"That is the second barrier," Dravon whispered. "The concealment veil."

In front of us, the vacuum of space rippled like a heat mirage over a desert. It seemed as though reality itself was resisting the urge to reveal what was hidden behind it.

"This veil obscures the rift," he clarified. "More crucially, it masks every spatial transition point. Without the proper clearance, simply finding the battlefield is an impossible task."

I pushed my perception outward as we drew closer.

The construct was... terrifyingly exquisite.

Layers of Illusion laws were woven into spatial distortions. Shadow laws were intertwined with darkness, not to hide existence, but to deflect the observer's awareness. Even my own senses seemed to slide off its surface unless I focused with absolute intent. This was more than just a cloaking device; it was a total denial of presence.

"We are passing through now," Dravon announced.

The vessel crossed the threshold.

For a fleeting second, my senses were flipped upside down. All light vanished, and the concept of distance became meaningless. Then—

The veil dissolved.

The true battlefield was laid bare.

The void on the other side was a hive of activity. The sheer level of organization was the first thing that caught my eye.

Dravon pointed toward the vista. "This is our territory."

What lay before us was a structural masterpiece on a galactic scale.

Three gargantuan crescent-shaped layers arched through the void in a concentric pattern. Each was larger than the one before it, forming a massive semi-circle that faced the distant radiance of the rift. These layers were constructed from colossal, anchored stone slabs, supporting entire complexes that were bound together by pulsing streams of Essence and reinforced by laws.

The outer crescent was the broadest, positioned furthest from the fighting.

"That is the rear echelon," Dravon explained. "It serves for recuperation, healing, and logistics."

The platforms in this sector were expansive and steady, linked by transit routes made of drifting stone fragments. Medical wards radiated a gentle light. Large zones were dedicated to bringing in fresh troops, conducting repairs, and managing personnel rotation. Demons moved in disciplined patterns, with the injured being ferried in while rested soldiers prepared for deployment.

The second crescent was located closer to the center.

"That is the rotation zone," Dravon noted. "Units cycle through there both before and after they engage in combat."

These platforms were more compact and heavily defended. I saw training grounds, supply hubs, and command centers. Essence shields flickered around their perimeters as ships constantly docked and took flight.

Then, my gaze fell upon the inner crescent.

I narrowed my eyes.

This layer was incredibly dense.

"That is the core defense zone," Dravon said in a low voice. "Our frontline base."

The structures here were smaller but far more fortified, designed like spearheads aimed at the foe. Every building was encased in overlapping Essence barriers and reinforced with ancient runes and massive metal plating. This was the staging ground where active units prepared, launched their strikes, and retreated under heavy fire.

Beyond that point—

There was only the abyss.

A massive, scarred expanse of the void where laws clashed with violent intensity. Bursts of color flared and died away. Silent shockwaves rippled through the vacuum. Turbulence in the Essence twisted the surrounding space into treacherous, unstable currents.

"That is the engagement zone," Dravon declared. "The place where the fighting happens."

And on the opposite side of that turmoil—

Another set of crescents appeared.

They were a mirror image of our own.

There were three layers there as well, but their configuration was reversed.

"The Eternals organize their forces in a similar fashion," Dravon continued. "However, their most formidable layer is the one closest to the rift."

Their outermost layer, the one nearest the battle, was compact and brutal, clearly built to maintain unyielding pressure. Their middle layer served as a pipeline, funneling endless reinforcements into the fray. Their innermost layer, which encircled the rift itself, throbbed with a terrifying power.

At the very center of it all sat—

The rift.

It looked like a burning laceration in the fabric of reality. A kaleidoscope of light spilled out, shifting between violet, gold, crimson, and blue—resembling a sun that rose but never set. Laws were distorted around it, pulled toward its core.

Even at this range, I could feel the rift's oppressive weight pushing back against us.

We cleared several checkpoints as we moved deeper into the zone. Each station scanned Dravon's ship, with runes glowing momentarily before we were granted passage. His rank ensured that every door remained open.

As we moved forward, the ambient pressure grew.

Fluctuations surged through the ship's hull. The echoes of distant explosions rippled through space. I didn't just witness the battle ahead; I could feel it through my very soul.

"This rift has remained stable for years," Dravon remarked. "But stability shouldn't be mistaken for peace. It simply means the pressure is constant."

"Once we pass the final perimeter, everything will change," he warned. "From that moment on, you will be within a live combat zone."

His expression turned grave.

"I will escort you to my private quarters. Since I rotate between various rifts, I maintain a residence on every major frontline." He paused for a moment. "Once we arrive, we will go over the strategy—how you plan to seize the commander, and more importantly, how you intend to win him over afterward."