My Talent's Name Is Generator Chapter 772 Ryn Goldwing

The surrounding space bent inward with that familiar gentleness, my laws sliding effortlessly into position. Knight no longer jumped at the sensation; he merely shifted his balance as reality twisted, crumpled, and reformed around us. Just seconds earlier, we'd been in Feradros' guest quarters, and now we floated high over the shattered island, hanging in the cool night breeze.

Down below, the destruction from before remained starkly evident. Four enormous chunks of land floated separately, like shattered pieces of a once-mighty crown, with seawater rushing into the fissures in steady, unyielding streams. The Ferans were already working to secure the borders, yet the wound would endure forever. An eternal warning.

I extended my senses outward, weaving them across the whole area. It wasn't long before I located my target.

"There," I murmured softly.

Knight traced my line of sight. A portion of the island that had survived unscathed, fortified solidly, rising a bit above the surrounding terrain. Inside lay a room protected by multiple layers of warding runes.

Ryn Goldwing occupied the heart of it, seated with legs folded, eyes shut, wings tucked carefully at his back. He attempted to meditate. Attempted was the key term here.

I fine-tuned our location and bent space once more.

We entered his room without causing the slightest disturbance.

My initial action was to bind him securely.

Space grew dense around Ryn, binding him with an unseen restraint. His breathing faltered, wings jerking briefly before halting abruptly. His eyes flew open, pupils shrinking as he grasped that even his head refused to move.

Knight gave a quiet whistle. "Still impresses me," he commented casually. "I ought to handle space better than this."

Ryn's stare fixed forward, a mix of dread and rage battling across his features.

I paid him no mind for now.

The chamber itself proved... entirely expected.

Towering ceilings. Soft illumination. Golden curtains that shifted with the flow of ambient Essence. Racks filled with volumes and decorative items.

I strolled to the closest rack, drawing out a volume and leafing through it.

"Solar Resonance and High-Density Light Laws," I announced, reading the title. "Second edition. With notes."

Knight glanced over my shoulder. "He's pushing into his heritage," he observed. "Logical choice. Can't depend on talons and feathers indefinitely."

I placed the volume down and selected another. "Wind Compression Pathways in Avian Frames. Interesting. This one's surprisingly solid."

Ryn's eyes followed my every motion, powerless to act.

I moved toward a closet, swinging it open casually. It held orderly rows of clothing: battle gear strengthened with golden threads, formal robes, everyday outfits that still screamed luxury.

Knight looked inside. "You know," he mused, "for all his showboating, his style is oddly... restrained."

I lifted a jacket, feeling its weight. "Prime Galaxy nobility," I laughed lightly.

I dropped it back and shifted to a compact side table, where various small objects rested. I prodded one lightly with my finger.

At last, I approached to position myself right before him.

He appeared youthful. Robust. Gifted, without doubt. Yet underneath lurked a certain vulnerability. Not in body, but in mind. A existence shaped by rivalries in safe settings, where defeat carried penalties but nothing irreversible.

"Enough delays," I stated evenly. "Share details on the Prime Galaxy."

No reply came.

I cocked my head. "House Goldwing. What's their real might? And the Ferans—how do they truly appear beyond these local power games?"

Nothing but quiet.

Knight crossed his arms, observing with faint curiosity.

I let out a gentle sigh and extended my hand, placing my fingers delicately on Ryn's right hand. Precisely on his index finger.

No burst of energy. No theatrics.

The finger merely dissolved into specks of golden radiance, coming apart as though it had never existed.

His eyes widened in shock, tears welling up right away, form shaking fiercely even while held immobile.

I pulled my hand away and lifted it toward his skull.

"Next up," I declared steadily, "I'll extract memories straight from you. That'll sting worse. And you lose control over what gets revealed."

"WAIT," he gasped, voice breaking. "I'll speak. I'll speak."

I dropped my hand.

'You can pull memories now?' Knight queried, taken aback.

'Pure bluff.' I grinned.

Space eased slightly, allowing him breath and words.

Ryn gulped deeply, gaze flicking between us.

"The Prime Galaxy," he rasped. "It's... nothing like here. Strength there builds in layers. Intense. Every big faction boasts Saints. House Goldwing has no fewer than six verified Saints, with whispers of others."

I heard him out without breaking in.

"The Ferans hold more power in that place too," Ryn went on, firming his tone.

"They're cohesive in ways unseen around here. In the Prime Galaxy, no splits into rival tiger groups or inner divisions. They obey dragon sovereigns, unchallenged leaders whose rule brooks no doubt. What's in this galaxy serves more as an outpost than the heart, vital to oversee but not their main stronghold."

"And the rest?" I inquired. "The Nagas. The Elementals."

"The Nagas trace back to antiquity," Ryn replied after a short delay. "Their Saint lineages outlast most histories. They shun vast armies or conquests. Their power waits patiently, and that's what makes it so horrifying. The Elementals number less, but their Saints excel in niches. They don't rule wide areas, yet in their specialties, they wreak utter devastation."

I inclined my head gradually, storing the info.

Then came the query that truly mattered to me.

"Why claim you sealed the rift?"

Ryn paused, then gave a feeble chuckle. "That's survival in my world. I've got brothers. Plenty. We vie for supplies, Saint inheritances, bloodline evolutions, relics. War contributions count. Fame counts. Shining bright enough here would carry weight back there."

I offered a subtle smile.

"Makes sense," I replied.

I retreated a step and lifted my hand.

A slender ray of purple glow formed at my fingertip, focused and exact.

Knight tensed subtly, detecting the change.

Ryn's poise crumbled. Panic surged in his eyes as the truth dawned.

"Wait... what is this?" His tone fractured despite his try at control. "You're not seriously going to end me, right? You have no idea about my origins. My mother is a Saint. She'd pursue you across this cosmos if you harm me."

I eyed him steadily. "How many brothers and sisters?"

The words threw him. He faltered, Adam's apple shifting as he swallowed.

"Seven."

I nodded sharply. "So six remain after."

His jaw tightened, panic turning to wild plea. "She will notice," he bit out, though conviction faded.

"Will she?" I questioned lightly.

His breaths quickened. "Hold on," he urged hastily. "We could bargain. Any bargain."

"What sort?" I pressed, intrigued.

He tripped on his phrasing. "I—I could secure you entry to the Prime Galaxy. Supplies. Contacts. Relics. I could—"

"Pointless," I interrupted calmly, voice level.

His posture deflated. "Killing me benefits you nothing," he croaked. "I'm a minor figure overall. Just a single element."

I glanced at the light ray briefly, then met his eyes.

"I think otherwise," I murmured. "I acquire a Saint mother as a foe."

The truth struck him fully.

And he grasped, much too late, why that failed to scare me.

The ray launched.

It pierced his brow neatly. Precisely the power needed to finish it swiftly.

His form pitched ahead, space relinquishing its grip as vitality fled.

I lowered my hand, the glow dimming.

Knight breathed out deliberately. "Well," he noted, "that settles one issue of inheritance."

I pivoted, already warping space anew around us.

"Let's go," I urged. "More prey awaits."

The room faded from view, abandoned to quiet and a destiny newly altered, Prime Galaxy be damned.

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