My Talent's Name Is Generator Chapter 791 Brother

Just as I entered the central district from the outer convergence roads, a subtle tremor in the atmosphere caught my attention. It originated from my storage ring.

I halted abruptly, directing my senses inward to pinpoint the cause. The city around me stayed unchanged. No Essence lingered in this area, and no concealed forces lurked below. The anomaly wasn't coming from outside.

It stemmed from me. Startled, I lifted my hand and summoned the item. A book materialized in my grasp.

The very book I'd acquired in the chained realm.

Its exterior matched my memory precisely: deep crimson, shadowy, and icy to the touch, with a blank cover devoid of any title, markings, or clues to its source. Still, I recognized it instantly. This was the relic that had granted me the glimpse of the boy.

Theras.

Theras Prime.

For an instant, I gazed at it intently.

Previously, when I'd tried to open this tome, it had only permitted access to the initial page. Under the heading, The Beginning, an illustration of a vertical eye had emerged, and despite all my efforts, the following page wouldn't budge. It wasn't due to any tangible barrier. The sheet just stayed immovable, like the subsequent content didn't exist at all.

Yet now, it had stirred independently.

With care, I flipped it open.

The opening page displayed itself right away.

The vertical eye gazed up at me, rendered with flawless detail, its slit-like pupil eerie and distorted, exuding an odd feeling of sentience despite being merely a drawing. The caption above stayed the same.

"The Beginning."

I extended my hand.

This time, as my fingertips grazed the page's border, no opposition arose.

It flipped over.

The next page came into view.

A depiction of a sword.

It was plunged into the mountaintop, its edge buried firmly in the rock. Thick clouds veiled the higher sections of the peak, yet the blade stood out sharply, solitary at the crest.

A lone word hovered above it.

"Brother."

The instant it registered, clarity dawned on me. Another revelation awaited. And this one, I could truly engage with.

Without delay, I acted.

In under a second, I dashed into a nearby preserved structure, choosing a spacious, vacant room that promised solitude. The Naga's limp form hovered next to me, securely restrained and utterly powerless. With a mere intention, I secured him in position.

Then, I settled into a seated stance.

Violet Essence enveloped me, forming multiple barriers that severed all ties to the outside world. Though Essence was absent here, the barriers fulfilled their role. They blocked any disturbances. They anchored my mind as I delved into the vision.

I reopened the book and pressed my palm to the illustration.

My awareness grazed it.

And in a flash—

Reality vanished.

I found myself in a different location. My physical form was absent. I lingered only as a spectator, my consciousness fixed on the events playing out ahead.

Theras positioned himself in front.

He wasn't the young boy from my prior sighting anymore. Now in his twenties, he appeared fully grown. His build was robust, his stance casual yet firm. His complexion held a pale gray hue, flawless and even. White strands of hair cascaded freely over his shoulders, and a set of ebony wings protruded from his back, tucked orderly against it.

His eyes gleamed crimson. Not luminous. Just pure red.

He positioned himself at the mountain's foot.

The summit soared upward, lost amid heavy mists. The ascent trail was slim and arduous, etched straight into the stone. And right at the pinnacle—

The sword.

From afar, its aura was undeniable. Theras wasn't solitary. Two figures accompanied him. Their outlines were visible, but details of their faces blurred, as if the vision deliberately concealed them. They played supporting roles.

This scene centered on him.

The trio fixed their gazes on the sword.

The individual to Theras's left advanced a bit.

"Theras," he started, his tone steady yet rich with implication, "for the past ten years, I have deliberately prevented you from using your talent. Not because you lacked the ability, and certainly not because I doubted what you were capable of becoming, but because I knew there would come a moment when restraint would matter more than power."

Theras kept his gaze away from him. Those red eyes locked onto the far-off sword lodged in the peak, his wings motionless, his bearing at ease in a manner that conveyed neither eagerness nor submission, but absolute assurance.

The man pressed on, observing him closely.

"You have always been difficult to contain," he remarked. "Even as a child, there was something in you that rejected boundaries. You sought freedom in its purest form, without compromise, without hesitation. You called it freedom, but what followed in its wake was often destruction. Entire regions destabilized. Those who stood in your path learned quickly that your will was not something that could be redirected once it had settled on a course."

He halted, allowing the statement to linger.

"I saw it all. The chaos. The consequences. The fear you inspired even among those who stood beside you."

Theras stayed quiet, his face unaltered.

"And yet," the man proceeded, "I chose to restrain you. Not because I wished to break that nature, but because I understood it. Power without purpose is indistinguishable from ruin. Freedom without direction becomes indistinguishable from annihilation. You did not need more strength. You needed something worthy of it."

His eyes flicked momentarily to the sword.

"That is why I held you back. That is why I denied you the right to fully awaken what already existed within you."

He edged nearer.

"But today is different."

A gentle breeze stirred nearby, whisking specks of grit along the trail.

"If you can reach that sword," he declared, his voice resolute, "if you can conquer it, then there will be nothing left for me to restrain. No reason to limit you. No justification to stand in your way."

A subtle smile tugged at Theras's mouth, though his stare never wavered from the height.

The man went on, his pitch dropping a notch.

"You must understand what stands before you. That sword is not something our kind created. It does not belong to our lineage, nor does it follow laws we fully comprehend. We have studied it. We have tested it. We have sent others to claim it."

His jaw clenched faintly.

"And we have lost every one of them."

Theras's features remained steady.

"They did not fail because they were weak," the man explained. "They failed because the sword rejected them. Because whatever resides within it does not accept power alone as justification."

He exhaled deliberately.

"The prophecy speaks of it clearly. The one who carries that blade will be the one who ascends. The one who claims the empty throne. The one who defines what comes next."

He faced Theras squarely now.

"I do not know whether you will succeed," he confessed openly.

Quiet hung in the air between them.

Then his words grew gentler, shedding their control.

"If you reach that sword, Theras… you will never have to answer to anyone again. You will never have to ask permission. You will never have to be contained."

He stopped.

"You will be free to become whatever it is you have always sought to become."

Theras responded at last.

He advanced, striding past the pair without pause, his wings twitching lightly as his steps hit the path's start.

No words escaped him. No nod to their presence.

A fierce smile broke across his features. He spared no glance backward. He merely started climbing toward the mountain.

One stride after another.

His pace held firm.

Unwavering.

As if doubt had never entered the equation. As if destiny had scripted this all along.