My Talent's Name Is Generator Chapter 735: Celebration

The guest house buzzed with activity as the celebration's time approached.

Servants glided silently along the expansive corridors, tweaking the illumination, unlocking the verandas, and arranging the outfits readied beforehand. Even at this elevation, the mountain breeze held warmth, while far-off lava streams cast a lingering crimson and amber hue across the heavens.

Lyrate stepped out ahead of the others.

Her deep red gown complemented her locks flawlessly, the material cascading as if cultivated from nature itself instead of sewn. Delicate designs bordered the hems, understated yet vibrant, responding subtly to her aura. She cast a quick look downward at her attire, then lifted her gaze with an approving tilt of her head.

Aurora appeared shortly afterward, clad in tiers of azure tones. The fabric gleamed akin to liquid under lunar glow, rippling gently with her motions. She twirled in the spot, obviously delighted, and flashed a smile upon noticing Lyrate's observation.

"What?" Aurora asked. "If I’m heading to a demon celebration, I’m not underdressing."

Ragnar emerged next, causing a brief hush in the hallway for an instant.

His outfit resembled ritualistic armor far more than regular garb. Ebony metal segments interlocked smoothly, buffed yet marked sufficiently to reveal prior combat. The pauldrons extended wide, amplified beyond his sturdy build, revealing a rich scarlet inner layer under the obsidian shell.

He rolled his neck once and smirked. "Feels tighter than battlefield armor."

"That’s because you’re not supposed to punch anyone in it," Aurora shot back.

Ragnar chuckled. "We’ll see."

Knight materialized without warning, already in the garb of the Order of Absolute. Layers of dark cloth over more darkness, straightforward and precise, his cowl shrouding his face. He remained unchanged, which paradoxically drew more attention to him than the rest.

Silver followed, donned in billowing garments of gold and soft ivory. The weave seized the glow endlessly, bouncing it back in a gentle haze instead of a harsh gleam.

"I feel overdressed," Silver grumbled.

"You are," Ragnar replied, giving his shoulder a light pat.

Primus was the final one from the group to appear, clad wholly in ebony. Devoid of decorations. Lacking any luster. The attire suited him impeccably, plain and weighty. His face held a grave and solemn air.

Then Steve and Mazikeen showed up side by side.

Steve sported somber formal wear adorned with subtle bolt designs tracing the wrists, picked to impress without limiting movement. Mazikeen, mildly astonishing the group, opted for an ensemble that paired with him—a bold crimson and ebony, tailored and keen, featuring faint fire emblems threaded into the weave.

Steve eyed her, then checked his own look. "We look coordinated."

"Don’t read into it," Mazikeen stated bluntly.

"I’m absolutely reading into it."

She rolled her eyes.

I glanced at North next to me.

Her black gown was straightforward yet refined, featuring sleek contours and a single crimson bloom. No extravagance. No excess. As her eyes met mine, they sparkled with thrill, free of anxiety.

"You clean up well," she remarked.

I grinned. "You’re one to talk."

She clasped my hand readily.

With the full party assembled beyond the guest house, an airy and eager atmosphere took hold.

"So," Steve began, scanning the group, "who exactly are we meeting tonight? Monarchs? Generals? Ancient demons who stare too much?"

"All of the above," Aurora answered brightly.

Ragnar flexed his fingers. "As long as there’s food."

Knight stated evenly. "And politics."

Ragnar winced. "I hate that word."

Just as the talk threatened to wander off, an aura neared.

A demon servant drew up. He inclined low in respect.

"The guests are expected," he announced. "Please follow me."

We ascended as one, trailing him airborne.

The journey to the central peak unfolded leisurely, letting Dragos's vastness unfold completely. Blazing craters scarred the terrain like raw injuries, molten streams etching radiant trails across shadowed ground. Overhead, triple satellites swept in broad orbits, their radiance blending with the inferno beneath.

Nearing it, the central ridge overshadowed all, with a single summit rising supreme, colossal and timeless, the Demon Monarch’s stronghold hewn straight from its depths. Linked to it, as if developed gradually, sprawled multiple majestic edifices.

One among them was our target.

The structure adhered to the slope, levels hewn from rock, standards in rich scarlet and ebony whipping in the warm gusts. Illumination streamed from vast panes, tunes and chatter drifting softly from afar.

We touched down on a broad ledge at the portal.

Sentries held positions rigidly, arms borne in courtesy, far from hostile. The portals loomed huge, inscribed with motifs of blaze and triumph.

As we flew closer to the celebration hall, the sound of music and voices began to carry through the heated air. Laughter echoed faintly from within.

Silver’s gaze drifted away from the doors.

He looked out over the planet instead, toward the dark horizon where the sky met molten land. "...It feels strange," he said quietly.

"There are still rifts out there," Silver continued, his voice calm but heavy. "Demons fighting. Dying. Whole rifts locked in battles that won’t end tonight. And here we are, walking into a celebration."

No one interrupted him.

"It almost feels wrong," he added. "Like we’re pretending the war isn’t happening."

Aurora drifted nearer to him, her blue hair fluttering in the heated wind. She didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she looked toward the doors as well, then beyond them, as if seeing something further than the hall.

"That’s exactly why this exists," she said.

Silver glanced at her.

"If all we ever did was fight, bleed, and bury the dead," Aurora continued, her voice steady, "then this war would already be over. Not because we lost, but because everyone would be empty."

She gestured subtly toward the hall.

"This isn’t pretending the war doesn’t exist. It’s reminding ourselves what we’re fighting to protect. Moments like this. Places that can still laugh. Still breathe."

Her eyes softened slightly.

"Those demons out there need to know that what they’re bleeding for still exists. That when they survive, there’s something waiting for them besides another battlefield."

Silver was quiet for a moment.

Then he nodded slowly.

"...I see."

Aurora smiled faintly. "Besides, tomorrow we go back to killing things. Tonight, we remember we’re alive."

Ragnar chuckled from behind them. "Well said."

The attendant gestured forward. "They are waiting."

I took North’s hand firmly and stepped forward.

The doors opened.

Warm light poured out, along with the sound of conversation. The hall beyond was enormous, giant pillars supported the enormous roof.

A voice rang out clearly.

"The Order of Absolute has arrived."

And the place went silent.

Every head turned.

I entered first, North at my side, Lyrate and Aurora flanking us. Behind us came Ragnar, Knight, Silver, Primus, Steve, and Mazikeen.

At the far end of the hall stood the General, already waiting, a small smile on his face as he stepped forward to greet us.

The celebration had begun.