My Talent's Name Is Generator Chapter 728: The Eclipse Anchor’s Core

The atmosphere shifted instantly as North entered the tower's lower sections.

Not warmth or chill assaulted her, but an intense force. A heavy, compressing aura that squeezed her flesh and crept along her skeleton, as though the very environment sought to warn her of her unwelcome intrusion. Surrounding walls weren't mere constructed rock or strengthened metal anymore. They had been cultivated. Stacked panels of darkened substance merged by principles instead of substance, throbbing subtly with a cadence eerily resembling a pulse.

Lyrate kept her pace steady.

Leading the way like an unstoppable disaster, she grazed the ground with her palm once, unleashing roots that burst forth explosively. Stout, shadowy vines of vital growth drilled into the earth and barriers equally, shattering formations before foes could even take full shape.

Level after level, they plunged downward.

"This is it," she murmured softly.

A enormous vertical hall awaited them, its middle carved into a plummeting tunnel that disappeared into darkness. Ledges twisted down the sides, linked by slim spans formed from that same organic substance. Deep down, an entity throbbed. A profound, rhythmic luminescence that propelled surges of force skyward with every thump.

The Eclipse Anchor’s core.

As they delved further, the weight intensified across all things. Every motion demanded greater exertion. Inhaling grew labored, like the atmosphere itself fought entry into her chest. Lyrate's progress eased a bit, her roots straining more, growing denser, fracturing the ledges as they carved a route.

The last drop loomed before them.

The tunnel widened into a sprawling underground hall under the tower, spacious enough to engulf an urban district. In its midst, the core floated.

It loomed gigantic.

A globe of packed essence, held aloft amid a web of binding formations that turned lazily about it. Dark radiance seeped from its exterior, flowing into conduits that threaded the hall's barriers and ascended the tower. The force here overwhelmed, pressing so fiercely that merely remaining upright seemed an act of rebellion.

This formed its vital center. The origin of the darkness. The cause behind the system's blindness, its inaction, its inability to meddle. The Eclipse Anchor didn't merely obstruct entry. It reshaped dominance, compelling this area to heed another command.

Lyrate advanced boldly, unafraid.

Roots erupted once more, bulkier than earlier, coiling around the external framework. The binding formations blazed fiercely in retaliation, symbols flaring as they resisted. The atmosphere wailed. Reality twisted. Numerous of Lyrate’s roots vaporized upon touching.

She held her ground.

She pressed with greater force.

The framework started to fracture.

Binding symbols splintered sequentially, their shine wavering as Lyrate’s generative principles invaded the breaches. The core throbbed quicker, responding, opposing, striving to preserve control.

The hall responded.

With the framework splitting more, the whole area quaked, initially mildly, yet with a profound, stressed hum, akin to a framework burdened beyond its limits. The barriers moaned. Strands of dark radiance glowed fiercer across the base and roof, channeling extra energy into the binding setup in a frantic bid to steady it.

Lyrate advanced another pace.

Her face remained unchanged. No tension marked her features, no doubt colored her actions. She lifted her hand deliberately, digits fanning out, and the roots obeyed her summons with fearsome compliance. What were once sturdy vines transformed into colossal stems, etched with twisting symbols of generation, each bolstering the following. They hammered the framework repeatedly, not aiming to demolish it outright, but methodically subduing it.

Every strike demolished another binding.

Every ruined symbol howled as it crumbled, shards melting into pure principle that failed to touch the core.

Then the core's ultimate safeguard activated.

Shapes arose from the binding setup directly, crafted wholly from packed principle and deathfog, their forms elongated and slender, visages blank and devoid. They glided silently, arms materializing as prolongations of the framework. The instant they moved ahead, Lyrate’s roots impaled them, ripping their forms asunder before any strike could land.

Additional ones materialized.

Lyrate refused to withdraw.

She progressed steadily, roots expanding through the hall like an organic flood, pulverizing sentinels and hauling down whole portions of the framework alongside. The force grew so acute that North sensed her legs buckling, her respiration quickening, yet she held position.

Her role was singular.

And she wouldn't stir until the moment arrived.

The core throbbed chaotically now, its beat irregular, unpredictable. Fissures formed on its exterior, slim initially, then widening as the binding setup couldn't restrain its release. Dark radiance erupted into the hall in sharp bursts, bending the atmosphere and mangling reality.

Lyrate arrived at the innermost circle.

She pressed her hand to the sole unbroken binding.

"For all your arrogance," she stated evenly, "you are fragile."

The binding broke apart.

The leftover framework imploded upon itself, shards evaporating as Lyrate retracted her roots in one fluid gesture. The core stood revealed finally, suspended bare in the hall's heart, its exterior split and precarious.

The force surged one last time.

North advanced.

She moved ahead, unsheathing both swords in a seamless draw. The steel vibrated gently as her Essence channeled into them, condensing tightly, keen and precise. Her face stayed serene, though her gaze blazed with determination.

North traversed the leftover span in a blur. The nearer she approached, the fiercer the force assailed her perceptions, seeking to restrain her, to halt her, but she maintained speed. She lifted both swords and aligned their tips to the fractured exterior of the core.

For an instant, stillness reigned.

Then she thrust.

The swords plunged into the core like into yielding dough, slicing through strata of packed principle and tainted essence.

The Eclipse Anchor’s core wailed.

Radiance burst outward, then imploded inward with equal fury. The hall shuddered as if pummeled by a deity's blow. The conduits supplying the tower burst, dark radiance flowing backward, wrenching loose from the upper framework.

North turned her swords and yanked.

The core fragmented. Its bulk caved in, pulverized by its own failing principles, creating an abrupt, chilling void in its former place. The force evaporated at once, supplanted by an echoing quiet that outdid any blast.

North staggered rearward as the system ignited completely. Various alerts echoed even in my awareness.

Access restored.

The tower rumbled nearby.

High overhead, edifices started crumbling, the principles binding them dissolving absent the Anchor’s command. The obscurity that had choked the system dispersed like a shroud ripped free.

Lyrate retreated to North's side, eyeing the vacant spot where the core had floated once.

"It’s done. Let’s move out." she said simply.

North breathed out, her hold firming on her swords as the tower crumbled about them.