My Talent's Name Is Generator Chapter 736: Recognition

Demons packed the hall from all sides. Certain ones sported ceremonial armor. Some donned loose robes that parted at the chest, with strips of metal and jewels denoting status or heritage. A handful wore only trousers, proudly baring their scars. Yet, they weren't the sole attendees.

Towering Nagas, excessively garbed, blended into the demon throng. Their gazes tracked every motion without a blink. Close at hand, robust Ferans bunched up in dense packs, their pelts scarred and branded with clan symbols, holding a dignified yet cautious stance, as though this ground wasn't theirs but familiar enough to evoke a sense of home.

Elementals floated freely amidst the gathering. A few resembled mere humanoid shapes crafted from flames, soot, or gusts. Others appeared thick and nearly tangible, their hearts pulsing as they drew in Dragos's surrounding warmth with clear delight. Additional races appeared too, ones I couldn't right away identify.

This went beyond a mere demon festivity.

This served as a declaration.

The demons had done more than unlock their chambers. They had summoned observers.

Tables stretched along the hall's edges, heaped with dishes that steamed and popped gently, cuts of meat coated in lava essences, basins of radiant fruits, beverages that gleamed like molten flames.

Melody drifted from overhead, profound and pulsing, resonating through bones rather than through the atmosphere.

Every gaze shifted our way.

Not solely the demons.

All present.

North's fingers squeezed mine just a bit.

We advanced one more pace.

Suddenly, a clap rang out.

One crisp, piercing noise.

Then a second joined.

Followed by yet another.

The applause started sporadically, tentative, like the chamber itself paused to grasp the significance of the instant. Then it swelled, quickened, intensified. Before long, the whole space boomed with cheers, a roaring surge crashing upon us from all angles, rebounding from dark stone barriers and arched roofs.

A cry erupted, hoarse with feeling. "Thank you!"

One more chimed in. "For the rift!"

"For our brothers!"

"For Dragos!"

Demons moved ahead in sequence, one by one. Arms extended. Grasps were solid, courteous, at times quivering. Phrases poured out, rough and sincere.

"Because of you, my unit survived."

"My sister can finally rest."

"We haven’t closed a rift like that in generations."

A number bent in bows. Some pressed fists against their torsos. Several just gazed, eyes aflame, words failing them.

I responded as possible. Inclines of the head. Brief words. Firm clasps. I didn't turn it aside. This wasn't arrogance. It was recognition.

From the edges of my sight, I noted the responses of the rest. The Ferans observed with slitted eyes, assessing. The Nagas murmured quietly to each other. The elementals even seemed to hover nearer.

Then the assembly divided.

On pure reflex.

The general advanced.

Kharzun's aura sliced through the clamor effortlessly. He bore the identical burdensome armor from earlier. His gaze remained steady, profound, and keen, embodying the quiet born of ages leading.

At his side loomed another form.

Saleos.

They halted before me as a pair.

Kharzun dipped his head a touch. "Once again," he stated, his tone projecting clearly without strain, "you have my thanks. And the thanks of Dragos."

I mirrored the motion. "We did what needed to be done."

A subtle grin pulled at Kharzun’s mouth. "That is usually how history begins."

He pivoted a fraction, speaking to the assembly. "Enjoy yourselves. Tonight is not for strategy or mourning. It is for breath."

The strain lifted, marginally.

Next, he bent in nearer, his words lowering for our ears alone. "Walk with us."

He signaled, and the area nearby adjusted smoothly. The throng split once more. Saleos positioned himself on my opposite flank.

During our progress, Kharzun murmured low. "Your presence here is not symbolic," he noted. "It is public. Every race in this hall will understand what it means."

I looked toward the assembled outsiders. "Which is?"

"That the Demon Monarch has permitted coordination," he answered steadily. "Not covert. Not deniable. Open."

Saleos interjected then, his voice sleek and exact. "You will gain allies from this. Quickly."

"And enemies," Kharzun tacked on seamlessly. "Just as quickly. Some will see strength. Others will see a threat that must be accounted for."

I nodded sharply. "I expected that."

Kharzun’s stare intensified a shade. "Good. Be careful nonetheless. Recognition spreads faster than intent."

In front, an elevated platform in the hall emerged, holding three silhouettes side by side.

They stood out plainly.

Three demons, each exuding authority without intent. Varied forms, varied presences, yet all bearing equal leadership's burden.

Generals.

Kharzun paused next to them. "These are the others overseeing Dragos’ active fronts."

He went on, "Together with me, we are the four generals currently operating under the Demon Monarch."

One advanced, lofty and wide, horns curved rearward like edges. "So you’re the one," he remarked, his manner inquisitive over aggressive. "You caused quite a stir. Maybe in a day or so your name will begin spreading through the Blue Spiral Galaxy."

He halted, then appended evenly, "The Monarch will not be attending tonight. Matters elsewhere require his attention."

I tilted my head. "There’s no need to disturb him."

Kharzun emitted a soft laugh. He eased back a step. "For tonight, you are our guest. Enjoy yourself. We will meet once again before you leave. There are matters that warrant a quieter room."

The generals nodded in respect before melting into the masses, soon encircled by demons and select poised non-demons.

Kharzun faced me again. "Enjoy the night. Dragos doesn’t celebrate often. When it does, it remembers who stood with it."

Saleos cast me a final appraising glance, then the pair vanished, swallowed by the hall's flow.

I lingered briefly, the din surging around me. Laughter. Music. Warmth. Vitality.

I sensed the assembly's stares on me and my companions. The elementals had begun clustering near Aurora, while the Ferans ringed Ragnar and Silver. I spotted Knight in a nook, quietly sipping his drink.

Then North's palm slipped back into mine.

She glanced upward, eyes sparkling, absorbing the chamber, the species, the gravity of everything. "Looks like we’re popular."

I breathed out gently. "Seems that way."

"Do you think she will come?" North asked.

"Who?"

"Lana," she said.

I shook my head deliberately. "It’s hard to say. She might. I think it depends on her new husband."

As I talked, my attention wandered beyond the throng. Primus lingered nearby with Steve and Mazikeen, the trio locked in a strangely grave chat over the offered cuisine. Steve waved his hands vividly. Mazikeen appeared skeptical. Primus attended with his typical forbearance.

I extended my awareness, grazing the hall and its myriad beings.

Then I noticed it.

I halted.

"Oh," I murmured softly. "Actually... they’re already here."

My gaze fixed on a demon positioned along the hall's far boundary.