My Talent's Name Is Generator Chapter 8 8: So I Got Into An Elite Unit (Which One?)

The following morning, I stood before the mirror for a final self-inspection.

I had opted for a navy blue jacket over a white shirt, completing the look with blue jeans and white sneakers. Once I was satisfied with my appearance, I grabbed my bags and made my way to the lower floor.

My grandmother was already there, waiting in the center of the living room.

"Come here," she requested, moving toward me to drape a necklace around my neck.

"Your mother crafted this for your father. It is one of the few precious items I managed to recover from that place."

I looked down at the pendant, my thumb brushing against the visible fractures in the material. It was a weathered blue infinity symbol, featuring the engraved initials of my parents, J and C, on its loops.

Grandmother peered into my eyes for a long moment before a gentle smile touched her lips.

"Very well, you may depart. Just ensure you return to me in one piece."

I gazed at her, the sole remaining member of my bloodline. She had endured the loss of her spouse, followed by her son and daughter-in-law. The depth of the sorrow she carried daily was something I couldn't even fathom.

I leaned in and gave her a soft embrace.

"I love you, Grandma. I’m going to miss you. I promise to return both safe and more powerful."

She squeezed me tightly for a second before whispering back.

"Grandma loves you as well, Billion. I shall be waiting for your homecoming."

Pulling away, I offered a respectful bow and gathered my luggage. I exited the house without saying another word.

Even as I reached the waiting vehicle, the sensation of her watchful gaze lingered on my back.

The driver stowed my gear, and shortly after, we were driving toward the academy.

A fresh chapter of my journey was about to begin.

***

The trip was brief, ending at the academy’s main entrance. Carrying my bags, I walked toward the designated assembly area.

A group of instructors sat behind tables at the front, cataloging the belongings of every student. I submitted my luggage, watched them record the details, and then joined the ever-growing line of new recruits.

It was still early—6:30 AM—with the sun just beginning to crest over the horizon.

I scanned the surroundings, observing groups of my peers huddled together; some were chatting while others waited in silence. I looked around for Steve, but he was nowhere in sight.

With a quiet sigh, I found a secluded spot and stood with my hands tucked into my pockets, waiting for the rest to show up.

The assembly grew denser as more recruits arrived. Just as I was tempted to check my status out of sheer boredom, I spotted Steve strolling through the gates with his characteristic casual, sluggish gait.

His eyes found mine, and he meandered over.

"You really should have tried to be early today of all days," I remarked.

"I am early. There are still five minutes on the clock," he retorted.

Before I could argue the point, he pivoted the conversation.

"So, do you have any clue what the plan is?"

"Yeah, Grandma gave me a cryptic hint: 'We’ll be picked, then mixed, units will be fixed, and then hell will be released.'"

Steve rolled his eyes in response.

"Fantastic. That’s very comforting. By the way, did you figure out your talent?"

"I did."

"And?"

"It’s impressive. I’ll show you later."

He squinted at me suspiciously but didn't press the issue. I knew he’d keep pestering me about it eventually.

Suddenly, a whistle shrieked, and we began forming ranks.

Daniel stood before the assembly, clutching a stack of folders.

"Alright, let’s not waste time. Your bags have been processed and are being transported to your new barracks. Here is the itinerary: you are being deployed to the Probation Central Hub (PCB) in the capital. This will serve as your command center for the upcoming year."

He gestured with the files in his hand.

"Officers are waiting to receive you there. You must take your file and present it to them. These contain your performance evaluations from Avenue Academy—treat them as your permanent records. We make these public, so your peers will know if you’ve been flagged red for failures or green for excellence."

He surveyed the crowd before adding more.

"The reason for public records is simple: to foster transparency and trust among comrades. Like it or not, this is the way of the Empire. Your unit assignments are already set, based on your Awakening status."

I went rigid.

Already assigned? I had assumed we would undergo training and assessments before being placed into units.

"I wish you all the best of luck," Daniel added.

"Your performance during this probation reflects on our academy’s reputation, so give it your all. Oh, and I’ve applied for a position at the PCB as well, so our paths might cross again."

Great. I might have to deal with him there, too. I didn't have a personal grudge, but our worldviews were completely incompatible.

We were ushered into a different hall where a middle-aged man wearing sunglasses was casually sipping a smoothie.

Daniel distributed our files and introduced the man.

"This is Mr. Rodriguez. He is tasked with your transport to the PCB. His Class is centered around teleportation."

Teleportation? That caught my attention. It was a rare Class and extremely prized within the military, though its lack of direct combat utility meant it was strictly a support role.

Rodriguez remained silent, merely nodding as he finished his drink. With a casual flick of his wrist, a shimmering blue circle manifested around us.

Then... nothingness.

My sight blacked out for a heartbeat before the world snapped back into focus.

We were standing in a colossus of a hall, larger than any structure I had ever seen. The ceilings loomed at least 50 meters high, and the room seemed to stretch on forever. Hundreds of other recruits—boys and girls our age—were scattered across the expanse.

We were inside the PCB.

Massive chandeliers hung from above, bathing the area in a warm light. My classmates were all present, but Daniel and Rodriguez had vanished.

A voice cut through the air.

"Welcome to the PCB, students of Avenue Academy."

I looked toward the source: a woman in a professional blazer and fitted trousers. She greeted us with a smile.

"Please head to the counters behind me to turn in your files to the Recorders. Move quickly; students from other academies are due to arrive shortly."

I moved immediately, walking past her toward one of the registration desks.

"Hello, here is my file," I said, passing the document over.

The woman behind the desk smiled and opened the folder. A slender beam of blue light shot from her eyes, scanning the pages like a digital projector. As she turned the sheets, the light tracked the text, glowing momentarily before fading away.

I watched, my mouth slightly agape.

"Are you serious?" I whispered in shock.

She looked up and let out a small laugh.

"I get that a lot. My Class is 'Recorder.' As the name implies, I handle the maintenance and updating of files."

"That is incredible," I admitted.

"Thank you... Billion? That is certainly a distinct name."

I scratched the back of my neck sheepishly.

"Yeah... my father had an obsession with large numbers. I'm lucky my mom stopped him at Billion, or I might have been named Trillion or Googol."

She chuckled at my explanation, finished the scan, and applied a stamp to the file.

"You're all set. Welcome to the PCB."

She produced a small card made of black metal. Her eyes glowed once more as text began to etch itself into the surface. She flipped it over, stamped it with the Empire’s shimmering thunderbolt insignia, and handed it to me.

"This will serve as your identification for the next year."

I took the card and read the inscribed details.

[Identity Card]

---------------------------------------------------

Name: Billion Ironhart

Age: 17

Academy: Avenue Academy

City: Cairo

Rank: PB_02000

Department: Elite Unit 02

Status: Alive

---------------------------------------------------

'Elite Unit 02?'