My Talent's Name Is Generator Chapter 767 Another Offer

A hush spread among the attendees. Civility had reached its end.

I gave a slow nod, like I was processing fresh details.

"Then you're prepared to face the fallout," I stated.

I lifted my hand.

The gesture lacked flair. No burst of brilliance erupted, no fierce warping occurred. The shift proved more understated yet infinitely more chilling for anyone attuned to it.

Essence within the chamber froze.

It ceased entirely, as though time had frozen for all but conscious thoughts. The subtle streams drifting in the atmosphere disappeared. The steady pulses sustaining enchantments, relics, and even basic boosts died out simultaneously.

My aura started to expand.

Gradually.

It didn't surge forth. It bore down. An immense force of unchallenged command permeated the area, compelling the world to recognize my presence, willing or not. I sensed numerous shields attempting to activate instinctively, only to falter short of completion.

Expressions shifted.

Assurance faded from certain faces. Panic emerged in others. The Ferans grew rigid, their gut feelings warning that this transcended mere diplomacy. The Griffins sensed it as well, feathers bristling, amber gazes sharpening as primal awareness detected peril.

Torace advanced a step, his poise cracking. "Mr. Billion," he uttered cautiously, "this is a festive venue."

I ignored him.

My focus remained fixed on Ryn.

"Then you shouldn't have tossed your promise around like a jest," I answered steadily. "I treat agreements with gravity. Particularly those voiced before observers."

The room seemed to shrink, squeezed by an influence unrelated to boundaries or span. Such tension prompted shallow breaths, as if one error could shatter the fragile balance irreparably.

My open hand stayed lifted, aimed straight at him.

"Pick your following words with care," I warned, tone even. "This marks my final request. Will you retract your pledge?"

Ryn gulped. His gaze darted from mine, fluttering shut then open, before shifting to Torace. The scheming intent in that look was clear. He'd figured I'd back down once pressure mounted, viewing this as mere showmanship for the audience. He never anticipated my advance. Nor my relish in pressing so boldly.

The alert had already gone out. My reinforcements stood poised.

Torace lunged.

He darted ahead and positioned himself squarely before Ryn, feathers fanning out on instinct. The remaining Griffins responded in a flash, moving to create a scattered shield around their heir. Moments later, the Ferans countered. Shera along with the commanders adjusted their stances, bodies forming a silent wall between me and the Griffins.

Following a short pause, the Elemental and Aqua envoys pressed on too, not with hostility, but purposefully, inserting themselves into the widening rift.

Within mere moments, the chamber divided.

Torace glanced back just slightly to face me, his demeanor restored.

"Mr. Billion," he remarked, a subtle grin curving his mouth, "consider your actions wisely. You're in Feradros."

I mirrored the grin.

"I know full well," I responded. "That's precisely why I'm inquiring."

My stare moved beyond him, fixing anew on Ryn.

"Feradros observes," I went on evenly. "The Nagas do. The Elementals. The Aquas. And all others who'll learn of tonight's events."

The weight in the chamber persisted. If possible, it intensified.

"So I'll pose the question once more," I declared, words slicing through the quiet. "Do your statements hold weight… or are they empty?"

The quiet lingered.

No reply came.

I sustained the pause another instant, then inclined my head gradually, as though affirming a personal truth.

"Very well," I murmured softly. "I see."

My hand dipped slightly.

"Your quiet serves as your reply."

The phrase had scarcely faded when reality stirred.

It commenced as a subtle wave, faint enough that only Essence-sensitive individuals detected it initially. A deep, suffocating vibration emanated from my form, sweeping across the chamber, the underlying isle, and stretching far wider.

The landmass quaked.

Exclamations erupted throughout the space as alarms blared alive in unison. Protective wards ignited on reflex yet couldn't target any solid threat.

My domain revealed itself.

Not entirely.

Yet sufficiently.

Beyond and over the isle, the heavens grew ominously dim in a rush. Purple mists swirled into being, heavy and stacked, twisting toward an invisible core. Jagged arcs of electricity ripped across them, rich violet laced with shadow, every flash resounding over Feradros like a deity's awakening rumble.

The noise echoed far.

Over the seas.

To neighboring lands.

Into the earth's core.

Individuals faltered under the descending force. Inhaling turned laborious. Essence streams devolved into turmoil.

Next, the outline materialized.

Rising behind me, dwarfing the opulent chamber, an archaic slab formed in the firmament. Enormous. Towering. Its face bore inscriptions ancient and intricate beyond common grasp, every mark shimmering with faint purple dominion. It lacked full solidity, not wholly realized, but its burden proved incontestable.

The ceiling didn't shatter.

It crumbled.

Rock, gem, and fortified elements broke apart into dust, incapable of enduring such strain. Instantly, the gala space lay exposed to the open air, offering all a clear sight of the roiling vapors and the overshadowing slab overhead.

Cries rang out.

Torace acted.

Aura of gold flared about him as he initiated his domain, luminous wings sprouting at his back, the form of a colossal Griffin materializing, brilliant and majestic. For an instant, the clashing powers vied.

Then I let out a scoff.

The noise was gentle.

Contemptuous.

The golden aura building near Torace quivered fiercely, then wrenched away from him as though seized by unseen forces. It hurtled rearward in a fiery trail and vanished into the swirling purple expanse, integrating flawlessly into my domain.

Torace stumbled.

His stare bulged, irises shrinking as the bond snapped.

"What—" he began, then halted, air snagging in his windpipe.

Over the isle, Feran commanders yelled as they attempted to summon their domains. No response came.

The isle's Essence howled.

Each stream, each lingering pulse, each charged wisp in the breeze contorted wildly and pulled skyward, coiling into the emerging slab. The terrain itself creaked in protest, earth splitting as surrounding waves surged closer.

The sole Essence flowing unbound was my own.

And that locked inside vital forms.

Torace gaped at me, all facade stripped away.

My hand held firm, outstretched, unwavering.

The slab at my back sharpened in focus, symbols flaring stronger as the domain settled near total emergence. I perceived its readiness, poised for orders, its scope immense and supreme.

This represented control.

This was my moderation.

Torace gulped deeply.

"Mr. Billion," he bellowed abruptly, voice piercing the tempest, "hold on."

I tilted my head a touch, enough to note him.

"We can discuss terms anew," he pressed rapidly. "We can propose an alternative for the agreement."

Thunder boomed above.

A bolt crashed nearby, the atmosphere shrieking in response.

I regarded him squarely now, face serene, nearly inquisitive.

"An alternative," I intoned flatly. "Enough to substitute your heir. What might that entail?"