My Talent's Name Is Generator Chapter 766 Absurdity

Blue lightning continued to snake across Steve's sword, faint veins throbbing while the blade stayed embedded deep in the Griffin's torso. The electricity had calmed down now. It didn't have to rage. Instead, it was precise, sufficient to hold the creature motionless.

The Griffin's jaws ground together with a grinding noise. His wings sprawled limp and ineffective on the fractured ground, plumes jerking wildly as his body convulsed from the jolts. His talons scraped faint lines into the rock, driven by reflex rather than purpose.

Steve gazed down at the beast.

"Do you concede?" he inquired.

The question was straightforward. No taunt laced through it.

The Griffin stayed silent for an instant.

His gaze wandered a bit, blurry initially, before gradually focusing as he surveyed the surroundings. The circle of onlookers. The stiff, quiet Feran commanders. The Griffins observing in utter hush, not a murmur among them. Torace Goldwing rooted like a statue, his golden stare inscrutable.

At last, his eyes shifted my way.

A spark flashed in them.

"Yes," he rasped. "I concede."

The admission echoed through the chamber and lingered.

Steve offered no response. He merely rotated the sword briefly and withdrew it smoothly, retreating as the lightning dissolved away. The Griffin slumped completely to the ground, torso rising and falling rapidly, his injury starting to seal itself yet leaving him rattled and drained.

Torace stirred.

One wave of his hand, and the golden shield around the fighting area broke apart into specks of light that floated up and disappeared. The strain it had bottled up didn't fade away. Rather, it grew denser.

A pair of Griffins darted in, reaching the downed young master in a swift haze. They raised him gently, one bracing his upper body, the other securing his wings. As they moved, that same golden radiance bloomed over him once more, flowing across damaged plumes and bruised skin.

Once the light pulled back, his wounds were mended.

Yet the chamber held its quiet.

No cheers erupted. No whispers stirred. No festivities broke out.

The attendees remained rooted in place, stares locked on the hall's heart, reassessing the spectacle they'd beheld.

Steve moved from the middle and headed back to our group, blade slung over his shoulder again, the lightning completely at rest.

Our eyes connected, and I nodded faintly.

The sham bargain was settled.

For a moment, everyone froze.

Then I began to applaud.

Deliberate and measured at the start. The noise sliced the quiet like a dagger drawn from its scabbard.

North eyed me, grasped right away, and added her claps. One, then the next, her face serene yet supportive. Soon Ragnar joined, followed by Aurora, then Lyrate with a grin she made no effort to conceal. Even Knight dipped his head a touch before clapping softly under his cloak.

The chamber wavered.

Onlookers traded hesitant glances, seeking signals, gauging dangers. Then a single clap rang from the Nagas' area. Another came after. Clumsy and irregular initially, but it caught on until applause filled the space, more dutiful than joyful.

I advanced as the noise built.

"That," I declared, my words projecting easily, "was a stunning battle."

The applause eased, then halted as focus swung back to me.

"Seeing fresh talent perform that way," I went on, flicking a quick look at Steve prior to returning my stare to the arena, "it sparks a bit more hope for our cosmos's tomorrow. Precision, control, determination. It's heartening to know such qualities endure."

My sight moved to the young Griffin, propped up by his fellows, stance upright but gaze keen now, free of confusion.

"You battled fiercely," I stated steadily. "And you honored your pledge."

A subtle stir passed through the Griffin cluster.

I edged closer once more.

"Ryn," I addressed him straight, "You'll join us tomorrow. Tonight, savor the festivities. Bid your farewells right. A fresh year of existence is prime for launching into the unknown."

The statement hung weighty.

Ryn's features twitched. Shock carved across his countenance.

Before he could respond, Torace Goldwing advanced.

"Mr. Billion," Torace uttered evenly, his manner courteous yet resolute, "I think there's been some confusion."

I pivoted toward him, arching a brow just a fraction.

"Oh?"

Torace motioned subtly at Ryn. "The young master's remark came in the thrill of combat. A jest, one might say. No real commitment was implied."

The chamber strained forward.

I cocked my head, examining him like he'd voiced something intriguingly odd instead of boldly provocative.

"A jest," I echoed.

"Indeed," Torace affirmed with a single nod. "You must see that. Utterances in a fight—"

I interrupted with an uplifted finger.

"Allow me to clarify," I stated tranquilly. "Are you claiming his statement carried no value?"

Torace's golden eyes narrowed. "I mean—"

"Or," I pressed on, tone level and measured, "are you implying the Griffins routinely retract their vows when the results sour?"

The air in the chamber chilled.

Feran commanders stirred. The distant melody even wavered, as though questioning its place.

Torace held back his reply.

Ryn glanced from one to the other, jaw clenching.

I stepped nearer.

"From my vantage," I noted, "the agreement rang out plain. Triumph and loss. Stipulations laid bare. Zero vagueness. If those terms were empty, this duel was mere show."

My eyes stayed fixed on Torace's.

"And if it was mere show," I murmured low, "every faction present will recall who regards their promises as mere adornment."

Quiet bore down intensely.

Ryn gulped, then pushed ahead despite the grips on him.

"No," he declared, tone firm yet youthful. "It wasn't a jest."

Torace whipped around. "Ryn—"

"I spoke it," Ryn broke in, voice solid, nearly edged as he raised his head. He locked eyes with Torace first, then faced me squarely. "I struck the bargain because I had the power to. And now I'm refusing to uphold it because I'm Ryn Goldwing, and that's a luxury I possess."

The declaration struck like a blow.

For an instant, the chamber's occupants held still. Torace appeared torn between fury and strategy, lips parted as he pondered if halting this would worsen matters.

I regarded Ryn steadily.

"So you're reneging on your vow," I observed.

"Yes," Ryn answered. "I am."