My Talent's Name Is Generator Chapter 797 The Seven Realms [Bonus Release]

The final soul fragmented into gentle azure particles and scattered into the void.

Silence hung in the air for an instant.

I remained in the depression carved by my aura, where the structures in the heart of the district lay even more devastated, mere shattered husks now. The split earth under my boots bore the mark of my aura, yet a shift had occurred in something deeper.

The city responded.

At first, it was barely noticeable. A subtle quiver ran below the ground, pulsing through the rock in measured waves. It lacked fury. The fissures in the nearby roads grew a touch deeper, not from shade, but from an emerging profundity, as if a long-dormant force far underground had awakened after endless years.

My Psynapse stretched out on reflex, delving downward past the city's tangible surface.

There it was.

Right at the district's core. An activation stirred. The atmosphere thickened.

The earth in front quaked.

Rocks displaced.

Cracks radiated in an impeccable round formation, outlining a vast ring inscribed on the demolished avenue. Rubble and dirt cascaded toward the middle as the ring gradually descended, uncovering a concealed platform underneath.

It ascended.

A vast, timeworn circular dais emerged into sight. Its top showed splits and damages in spots, as if it had withstood colossal pressure. Patterns etched into it shaped a teleportation array, different from any I'd encountered previously. The symbols were highly sophisticated runes.

And in the middle—

A silhouette perched.

It didn't stand right away.

The silhouette stayed positioned at the dais's fractured heart while I drew near, its shape calm and steady, the staff laid flat over its knees. It showed no instant response, leading me to ponder if it differed from the previous ones, if its role went beyond outright battle. Yet as soon as I fully mounted the elevated ring, its aura altered.

It stood up. Its grip clenched on the staff, and Essence started swirling inside its body. I sensed it distinctly. The Essence originated from within, surging out via its frame with precise control.

Its head inclined a bit my way.

Then it disappeared.

No streak of speed, no warp to follow. In one instant, it occupied the platform's center, and the next, it loomed right before me, its staff already swinging down at my head with flawless precision. The staff sliced the air cleanly, its trajectory straight and deadly, backed by the total force of packed Essence.

I lifted my palm.

Space complied.

The staff halted.

It halted mere millimeters from my features, its drive utterly nullified as the surrounding coordinates fixed into total immobility. The Essence coursing its shaft blazed fiercely in protest, striving to escape the bind, yet the enclosed space remained unyielding.

The silhouette countered at once.

Essence boiled inside it, ramping up as it sought to overwhelm my command. The staff quivered, its form pushing against the fixed points, stress cracks appearing along the unseen barrier trapping it.

It surpassed the previous foes in power.

It was evolving.

Yet I moved quicker.

Chronostep engaged.

Time splintered nearby, dragging the surroundings into a crawl. The silhouette's shape locked in the instant, its defiance paused with all else. I advanced amid the disrupted temporal stream, narrowing the gap until I was next to it, near enough to observe the Essence cycling through its frame.

Examined closely, its build showed flaws. My palm ascended deliberately, digits reaching for its brow.

I made contact.

The effect hit instantly.

Space warped from the touch point. The framework binding the silhouette started crumbling at its base. Fine fissures appeared on its exterior, expanding in complex webs that grew exponentially in split seconds.

The silhouette fought back. Essence flooded it, trying to mend the harm, to bolster the weakening form. But it proved futile. The fissures widened. Its shape shattered entirely. The silhouette disintegrated, its figure splitting into shards that melted into oblivion as the force upholding it vanished.

Yet a remnant persisted.

A faint azure radiance hovered where the silhouette had been.

It coalesced gradually, shaping into a see-through outline.

An elderly figure.

His build was slender and aged, his posture somewhat hunched. Profound lines etched his features, and his lengthy beard floated ethereally. His gaze shifted leisurely, gaining focus, scanning the area until it fixed on me.

Awareness dawned in them.

Gratitude.

Comprehension.

He met my eyes steadily, as if verifying a truth for his own sake.

Then he inclined his head. It conveyed thanks.

His outline started fragmenting, breaking into myriad azure specks that floated away before vanishing utterly.

As the final speck faded, I perceived it.

It merged with my soul. It compacted inside, boosting my soul's compactness without expanding it. My being gained weight, steadiness, as if its core had been shored up by an intrinsic essence, not mere added might.

I shifted focus to the dais. The teleportation array stood ready. I placed my foot on it. Instantly, the glyphs blazed.

Brilliance burst skyward, overwhelming my sight.

Space bent around me.

And then—

The transfer initiated.

But an additional element accompanied it.

Shattered recollections assaulted me abruptly.

I found myself on a war-torn field. As a witness. Countless corpses blanketed the terrain.

Human.

Everywhere.

Their remains extended past the skyline, twisted and devoid of life, their blood soaking the soil in perpetual red. Scattered arms lay amid them, fractured relics of a concluded conflict.

The overhead sky loomed shadowy.

In the midst rose a seat of power.

Immense.

Dark.

Timeless.

And in front—

A figure positioned itself.

I couldn't discern their features.

Just their outline.

Towering.

Motionless.

Regarding the seat.

Then the image broke.

I arrived in a new location.

A colossal chamber extended ahead.

Its vastness overshadowed all prior sights. Columns ascended from the floor to brace a ceiling lost in upper gloom. Every column hewn from one block of mysterious substance, flawless and immune to decay.

The atmosphere hung motionless.

Quiet.

Eternal.

Straight in my path, an enormous wall painting spanned the surface. Its grandeur compelled pause, its intricacy etched so finely it seemed vibrant despite antiquity. The artwork showed a hovering continent adrift in emptiness. At the summit of that continent, sunk deep into rock, lay the blade.

I knew it at once.

The identical obsidian edge with the lone silver streak down its midst. The same quiet aura. The same armament Theras had attained.

Circling the suspended continent, seven gigantic heavenly orbs circled in flawless paths. Each varied in look and essence from the rest.

Over the artwork, incised boldly into the rock with script.

"The Seven Realms."

I advanced cautiously, my sight following each element, letting my senses take in the complete makeup of the scene. This wasn't mere adornment. It served as chronicle. Past captured in shape over words.

As I progressed along the surface, more wall arts came into view.

Each portrayed beings arrayed before that identical blade.

They weren't of human stock.

Their shapes differed in form, size, and makeup, embodying species unknown to me and some faintly recalled from scattered lore.

Still, amid their variances, one trait united them.

None grasped the blade.

None contacted it.

None seized it.

They positioned themselves before it, gazing up at the lodged weapon, their stances hinting at layers beyond mere doubt.

They had arrived at it.

But they had not claimed it.