My Talent's Name Is Generator Chapter 801 Ironhart

From my position, a ripple expanded outward. The instant it made contact with the collapsing points, they wavered. Their drawing force inward shattered as the twisted zones forfeited their unity. Sequentially, each dark point came undone, its squeezing force becoming unsteady right before it could finalize the implosion.

The region of space encircling me normalized once more.

I lifted my hand, replicating the previous gesture.

My fingers traced a level sweep.

Directly ahead, a lone black point materialized.

In contrast to the shadow's creation, this one stayed firm without wavering or losing balance. It held absolute steadiness while advancing. Next, it split apart. Scores of points fanned out before rushing together toward the shadow simultaneously. Upon arrival, they imploded. The inward rush struck swift and fierce.

The area encircling the shadow crumpled fully inward, smashing its framework as the imploding zones overlapped and amplified one another. The warping engulfed its shape, ripping it to shreds without any opposition.

Its form shattered and melted into floating shadows.

Yet again, a remnant lingered, this time a fragment of space.

I absorbed it.

My grasp of space intensified, prompting the volcano to react. Shutting my eyes, I took in the fresh insight.

The soul that appeared offered a bow of thanks prior to vanishing.

I pressed on ahead.

White tile.

Black tile.

The following shadow bore insight into time. For me, this clash proved the simplest yet. Once the shadow lay defeated, I consumed the fragment.

Afterward, I kept advancing.

One shadow after another appeared and crumbled. Principle after principle faced trial and integration. Each triumph enhanced my insight, rendering my soul thicker, more robust, sharper in outline. Upon arriving at the distant end of the patterned corridor, I had transformed utterly from the entity who first trod upon the initial tile.

No tiles lay before me now.

The alternating design ceased a few paces from the opposite wall, presenting only bare rock as a quiet barrier. No entrance appeared, no hidden device revealed itself, no clue hinted at unveiling the onward route. The barrier stayed unmoving, identical to its state upon my initial entry into the corridor, yielding zero reaction to my advancement.

For an instant, I held position, watching and anticipating the corridor's response like those before it.

Nothing stirred.

I pivoted around.

The very second I turned, the tiles commenced shifting.

It began with a mild quiver underfoot, a gentle alteration that swiftly escalated into purposeful motion. The dark and pale tiles broke free from their set spots and started gliding over the ground, reorganizing silently without apparent effort. Whole lines slid laterally, some spun in place or swapped positions, the design breaking down and rebuilding in an endless stream.

In mere moments, the change concluded.

The corridor lost its checkered look.

One section of the room turned wholly dark. The remaining portion fully pale.

I occupied the pale section.

A crisp straight edge separated the two sections right through the corridor's middle, splitting it into balanced realms of brightness and shadow.

Next, the dark section undulated.

Its face no longer acted like rock. It flowed like fluid, shedding its firmness as soft surges rolled over it. The firm ground had morphed into something different, akin to a shadowy, mirroring pool whose face warped and altered without outside influence.

Out of that warping, an entity started ascending.

Initially, it appeared as a dim bulge, a minor rise disrupting the even face. Then it expanded, crafting a figure that thrust upward gradually, with intent, as if surfacing from vast depths. A head surfaced.

Followed by shoulders.

Then limbs.

The shadow ascended entirely from the fluid face, its shape solidifying as it advanced to the edge dividing dark and pale.

However, the change persisted beyond that.

The shadowy base under the shadow surged more fiercely, and from its depths, restraints started to surface. Utterly dark, their exteriors sleek and devoid of gleam, as if they absorbed all light from their surroundings. Successively, they ascended from the fluid earth, twisting upward like animated snakes heading to one target.

They encircled the shadow.

Starting at its lower limbs, winding snugly as they ascended. Next encircling its midsection, layering over each other in crossed bands. Additional restraints pursued, securing its limbs, its upper back, its throat, until the shadow stood utterly bound in their hold.

The whole assembly quaked.

The restraints constricted, drawing tighter as if compelling containment. The shadow's shape flickered, its exterior becoming unsteady as surges of warping coursed through it. For a few moments, no further action occurred. The restraints kept squeezing, imprisoning whatever dwelled inside that shape in total restraint.

Then the strain shattered.

A blast wave burst forth from the shadow's frame.

The restraints fractured at once, shards flying outward before fading into void. Simultaneously, a pair of appendages erupted from its rear.

Dark appendages.

They stretched out completely, their plumes keen and precise, matching the appendages from the earlier vision. The shadow's shell started fracturing, its exterior tearing open in rough shards that dropped away bit by bit. The gloom composing its frame flaked off like fragile earth, incapable of upholding the form below.

What endured was no shadow anymore.

An entity occupied the spot.

Wholly realized.

Pale locks draped freely about his features. His flesh held the subtle grayish hue I recalled. His stance stayed serene, even, his appendages folded casually at his back as if they had always been part of him.

I knew him right away.

Theras Prime.

He appeared precisely as in the vision, just as he had positioned himself before the blade lodged in the peak. No warping marred his shape, no unsteadiness plagued his being. He did not waver like prior shadows. He manifested in full.

His crimson gaze locked with mine. Gradually, he swiveled his head and surveyed the corridor, his sight sweeping over the dark and pale tiles, the soaring columns, and the quiet divide splitting the room. His appendages adjusted faintly behind him while he took in the environment.

Afterward, his gaze fixed on me again.

"Who are you?" he inquired.

"Billion Ironhart," I answered.

My voice stayed even, yet all aspects of my awareness operated at peak. Essence circulated softly through my pathways, steady and primed. My Psynapse extended maximally, charting every variance in the corridor, each motion, each alteration in force or form. My laws swirled under the surface, held back yet poised, alert for the faintest sign of threat.

"Billion?" he echoed.

He blinked once, his face altering subtly as if delving into recollection.

"Never heard of that name."

His sight wandered down to his own palm. He elevated it gradually, angling it faintly as if inspecting an absence. His digits curled once, checking flexibility, before his gaze rose anew to examine the corridor with greater care.

"Where is my sword?" he questioned.

His tone held no alarm, merely anticipation.

His eyes shifted to my palms.

"Did I lose it?" he muttered.

He pressed his digits to his brow, massaging gently as if urging memory to sharpen. His brows furrowed a touch. For several moments, he stayed motionless.

Then he breathed out softly.

He dropped his hand and regarded me once more.

"Never heard your name," he stated. "But Ironhart…"

He halted.

"I remember completely killing you all," he went on steadily. "How did you survive?"