My Talent's Name Is Generator

Chapter 1318: The Crimson Sea

The crimson region continued spreading across the mural, swallowing everything in its path like an enormous disease consuming the universe from within. Wherever that strange crimson fog passed, stars dimmed, planets disappeared beneath its influence, and the laws of the surrounding space began twisting into something unrecognizable.

Yet the man who had created the universe did not panic. He simply stood at its centre and watched.

Then he raised one hand.

A tiny flame appeared above his palm.

It was white.

Not ordinary white light, nor anything resembling the golden radiance that surrounded most powerful beings. The flame possessed an almost absolute purity, so bright that the surrounding darkness seemed to disappear wherever it existed.

The man flicked his wrist.

The flame expanded. In an instant, an enormous wave of white fire swept across the universe. The contrast was almost surreal.

The crimson zone that had seemed unstoppable only moments earlier was consumed the instant the white flames touched it. The strange crimson substance twisted violently, attempting to resist, but the white fire continued advancing without slowing, burning through it as though it had never possessed the strength to exist in the first place.

The white flames continued moving. They didn’t simply destroy the portion of the Crimson Zone that had already entered the universe. They followed its source.

The man extended his hand toward the distant void, and the white fire immediately changed direction, rushing toward a particular point in space where the fabric of the universe had been torn apart.

A fracture.

The crimson energy was pouring through that wound in reality. The white fire entered it.

For several moments, nothing happened. Then the entire fracture began collapsing. The enormous tear in space contracted violently before being consumed by the white flames, and within moments, even the last trace of crimson energy had disappeared.

The man lowered his hand. The universe became peaceful once again.

I stared at the mural in silence. If that had been the end of the story, it would have been impressive enough.

But the man apparently wasn’t satisfied.

The next section of the mural showed him standing before the place where the fracture had existed. He raised one hand again, but this time he wasn’t attacking anything.

He was opening the void. The space before him split apart.

The man stepped through.

The following carvings became increasingly difficult to interpret because of the sheer scale of the journey. One image showed him crossing a vast expanse of darkness. Another showed him travelling beyond countless distant stars. Then the stars themselves disappeared, leaving nothing but an endless void.

He continued further and further. Until finally, the mural showed something that made my expression change.

A crimson fog.

It wasn’t a cloud or a region. It was enormous beyond comprehension.

The crimson substance stretched across the darkness farther than the mural could properly depict, forming a vast sea of crimson that seemed to have swallowed an entire universe.

The man stood before it.

And suddenly, the scale of the image became almost absurd.

The figure who had created an entire universe, the being who had reached God Rank and could erase the Crimson Zone with a wave of his hand, appeared like an insignificant speck before that enormous crimson expanse.

Yet his posture remained completely relaxed. There was no hesitation or fear.

He simply stood there and waited. I found myself holding my breath.

Lyrate stepped closer to the mural.

"What is that?"

"I don’t know."

For some time, nothing changed.

Then the crimson fog began to move.

Slowly at first.

The enormous crimson sea churned as though something buried within its depths had finally noticed the man standing before it. Waves of crimson energy rolled through the darkness, and the entire mural seemed to become darker around the moving figure.

Then something emerged.

A man.

Long crimson hair flowed behind him as though there were an invisible wind within the endless void. His eyes were a deep, dark red, carrying a strange coldness that even the ancient carvings seemed unable to capture properly. He wore black robes beneath a long flowing cape that stretched behind him into the crimson mist.

He stepped out of the fog and the two figures faced one another.

Neither moved.

The ancient God stood alone in the void while the crimson-haired man remained surrounded by that seemingly endless sea of crimson.

I instinctively leaned closer.

The mural changed.

The two men began speaking. Their mouths moved. Their expressions changed.

At one point, the ancient God raised his hand as though making a demand. The crimson-haired man responded, his expression becoming increasingly cold. Another section showed the ancient God pointing toward the crimson fog while the other man appeared to answer him.

But whatever they were discussing, the mural refused to reveal.

The inscriptions surrounding the two figures became distorted, almost deliberately obscuring the conversation. Their words had been erased from history.

Or perhaps whoever created the mural had chosen not to record them.

I frowned.

"What were they talking about?"

Lyrate shook her head.

"We can’t tell."

The two figures continued their conversation for several more moments. Then everything changed.

The crimson-haired man’s expression hardened.

The ancient God raised his hand.

Both moved at exactly the same instant.

The mural erupted into a scene of unimaginable destruction.

The ancient God struck forward while the crimson-haired man attacked from the opposite direction, and the collision between their powers tore through the surrounding void. The crimson fog exploded outward, while enormous fractures appeared across the space surrounding them.

Even through a stone mural, I could feel the magnitude of the confrontation.

These weren’t two ordinary beings exchanging blows.

They were two entities who had reached a level where the surrounding universe itself seemed incapable of containing their power.

The next sequence showed the two figures separating after the first collision, neither appearing willing to retreat.

Then they attacked again.

And again.

The mural continued depicting their battle, but the story had suddenly become far more difficult to understand.

There was no explanation.

No narration.

No indication of what had been said between them.

Only the undeniable conclusion that whatever conversation had taken place between the ancient God and the crimson-haired man had failed completely.

And whatever disagreement had existed between them had been serious enough for two beings of that level to choose violence instead.

I slowly stepped back from the wall. My gaze remained fixed on the crimson-haired figure.

I had seen the Crimson Zone before. I had fought against its influence. And if my guess was right then the creator of my talent Generator was fighting the Crimson Monarch.

And now I was staring at the ancient record of the first time a God had confronted him.