My Talent's Name Is Generator Chapter 724: Two More

The surrounding void thinned out, becoming purer, as though crucial elements were getting peeled back. Vast streams of deathmist got yanked from the deepest parts of the core layer and hauled straight into me, slipping away into the Dawn Core with zero fight.

Initially, the Star just quivered.

Back then, it stayed a lifeless object. A huge, quiet form hanging in the emptiness. Reminiscent of a moon that had faded long ago. Chilly. Marked. Hollow.

Soon after, transformation started.

Fissures formed over its exterior, not actual breaks, but flaws in its essence. From those gaps, dark vapor seeped, dense and weighty, churning like thunderheads sealed beneath a crust. The incoming deathmist no longer faded silently. It nourished something within.

The Star ignited with vitality.

Dark flames burst over its face, blazing without actual fire, expanding in deliberate, fierce throbs. The vapor grew denser, surging, folding back, then erupting once more as though the Star drew its first breath in eons. The barren shell scorched off, peeling in layers, uncovering what lay below that wasn't passive anymore.

No longer resting.

That's when I sensed it.

A heaviness dropped into my torso. A draw that wasn't craving, but acknowledgment. The Star of Origin wasn't merely taking in deathmist now. It devoured it purposefully, purifying it, molding it anew.

The inner tension spiked fast. My Essence rushed to match, purple flows bolstering the Dawn Core while the Star’s revival shook my whole frame. The nearby space warped a bit, responding to the change, the emptiness itself restless about whatever was stirring to life.

The Star blazed like a dark star now.

And I understood, no proof required, that it wasn't inactive anymore.

It stirred.

The shift demanded no approval.

A wave radiated from the Star of Origin, and the instant it rippled through me, my form locked rigid. It felt like every inch of me received an order to halt simultaneously.

Then the process kicked off.

I detected motion deep within, sharp and exact. Fresh pathways etched through my frame in a flash, not ripping, but reworking the existing ones. They spread across flesh and skeleton, wove past my vitals, strengthened my backbone, encased my heart, and rooted into my extremities.

Pain struck.

Intense, vivid, impossible to dodge.

Yet it faded quickly.

My frame adjusted right away, vitality rising to handle the stress. Skeleton toughened. Flesh clenched then eased into greater power. My innards throbbed once with the pathways securing, then calmed as if they'd belonged forever.

The ordeal sped by. Harsh in feeling. Seamless in how it unfolded.

And suddenly, it finished.

I breathed out gradually, noticing I'd held it all along.

The inner strain softened, giving way to profound harmony. My form seemed weightier, more solid, truly present. As if a partial creation had at last been completed.

I lifted my hand and examined my palm.

The Star of Origin answered.

A slender strand of deathmist detached from it, streaming through the fresh pathways in flawless compliance. It pooled in my palm, deliberate at first, then quicker, solidifying, packing tight.

A tiny orb took shape.

Dark. Compact. Serene.

Inside the rotating deathmist sphere, black fire swirled steadily without waver or chaos, fully restrained.

I curled my fingers a touch, sensing its mass.

A smile crept over my features.

I glanced below and spotted the devouring gateway still working, still gulping deathmist from all over the core layer. Heavy dark flows ascended like inverted downpour, fading into the Star of Origin inside me. The buildup continued steadily, under control.

That settled, I turned my attention elsewhere.

The gateways.

I lifted my hand once more and tapped into the law of space. Now, I took it slow. I extended my awareness first, charting the core layer thoroughly. Scores of gateways were set into ledges, spires, and drifting forms, some veiled by barriers, others bare since they'd never faced threat.

I twitched my fingers lightly.

Unseen rifts in space fanned out from me like splits in ice, dashing through the emptiness. They hit the gateways nearly together. Structure after structure crumbled. Space warped. Tethers broke. The gateways shattered fiercely, folding in then blasting apart.

Monstrosities guarding them ripped to shreds on the spot. Shades attempted to respond, but the rifts sliced their guards before escape.

The ruin proved thorough. Absolute.

But then I spotted it.

Two gateways endured.

They lingered unscathed in the turmoil, their faces shimmering softly, shielded by forces beyond basic space bolstering. The rifts glided past them rather than gripping, as though space wouldn't yield.

My gaze sharpened.

Right as I prepared to act, both gateways stirred together.

A piercing hum echoed across the emptiness. The faces of the two gateways, one off the tower's left and the other its right, contorted wildly.

Then they appeared.

Two Eternals stepped from the gateways. Their frames matched Upita’s, towering, slender, and ideally balanced, nearing eight feet tall. Dull ash-gray skin caught no gleam. White locks draped smoothly aside, unaffected by the swirling deathmist nearby. Their gazes held that same eerie black, glossy and mirror-flat, lacking irises or feeling.

The instant they showed, the ambient space hushed.

Their heads swiveled gradually, surveying the wrecked core layer, the broken gateways, the tumbling forms, and the fading deathmist. For a split second, they absorbed the devastation wordlessly.

Then, driven by gut more than vision, both pivoted as one.

Their dark gazes fixed straight on me.

I sensed it, the burden of their focus, yet something varied this round.

The Executor’s Halo stayed inert.

No force projected from me. No instant harmony of laws. No gut-level pushback from existence. The emptiness held steady, as if poised.