My Talent's Name Is Generator

Chapter 641: The Death of an Ancestor

Platius led Orobas, Dorian, and Primus through the violet-lit halls of the Ronic fortress. I followed silently behind them, my perception already expanded to cover the entire fortress.

I wanted to make sure and check if there was anything that could hint at what Plan B could be.

He opened the doors to a wide meeting chamber lined with stone pillars and gestured for them to sit.

"I heard about the attack on Horus," Platius began, settling into his own seat. "It shocked the entire capital. In fear that it might not be the last, we activated our barrier at full strength. No one enters or leaves without our approval."

Dorian nodded. "Yes, it was unexpected for us as well. The Envoy said he would investigate and raise the matter with Dragos. We are conducting our own investigation too."

Platius glanced at Primus then, eyes narrowing with curiosity. "I must say, I am surprised at how strong Primus has become. To defeat a Transcendent Phantom... that is not something ordinary."

But before Primus could respond, Orobas cut in sharply.

"I am not here to talk about that." His tone was firm, carrying the weight of urgency. "Platius, I need to speak about something far more serious. Call Modrin. The matter cannot wait."

Platius blinked. "Father is in deep meditation. At least tell me what happened."

Orobas leaned forward. "I was attacked by Romothese inside my own chamber."

Platius’s eyes widened immediately. "You were attacked? By the Del Rey ancestor? How? When?"

Orobas shook his head. "I don’t know. He appeared behind me with his blade raised. If I had woken a second later, I would be dead."

Dorian added quietly, "And we believe the Phantom attack is linked to the Del Reys as well."

Platius stared at them in disbelief, then slowly exhaled, trying to process the weight of the accusation.

"This is... troubling," he said finally. "Very troubling."

He stood abruptly. "I will go summon Father. If what you say is true, he must hear it immediately."

Platius hurried out of the chamber, leaving the Bloodreavers alone in the room.

Platius walked quickly through the inner halls toward the ancestral chamber. He arrived outside and the guards bowed to salute him. He pulled out a token and pushed open the heavy doors with familiar ease then froze completely.

His father’s body sat slumped in the center of the room.

Modrin’s head hung forward, chin touching his chest, dried blood covering his robes. His hands lay limp on his lap.

For a full second, Platius didn’t move.

Then the shock broke.

"Father...?" he whispered, stepping in slowly.

His voice cracked. He stumbled forward and fell to his knees beside the body, grabbing Modrin’s shoulders and shaking him.

"No. No, no, no... Father, wake up. Wake up!"

His fingers pressed against Modrin’s neck, seeking a pulse.

There was none. I observed everything unfold calmly.

Platius’s breaths grew rougher. He pressed his forehead against his father’s arm.

"This can’t be true," he muttered. "Not like this..."

After several long seconds, he forced himself to stand. But instead of leaving, he began pacing around the chamber, running his hands through his hair.

"What should I do?" he whispered. "What should I do?"

His voice trembled, half panic, half rage.

He circled the chamber twice before forcing himself to regain some clarity. He checked the walls. The floor. The runes. Then he returned to the body.

That was when he noticed the wound.

A clean, sharp pierce wound that went straight through Modrin’s back and out his chest, exactly the strike I had delivered with the blue flame.

Platius’s face twisted.

He placed his hand on the wound and let his Essence flow into the corpse. A faint glow rose from his palm, drifting into the air around him like smoke.

When he opened his eyes again, they were full of shock.

And fury.

"You f*cking Del Reys..." he growled, each word shaking with anger.

Without wasting another moment, he flicked his wrist and pulled out a small crystal carved with violet patterns. He crushed it in his palm.

Instantly, a deep siren roared across the entire city, loud, sharp, ringing through every street and building. The sound echoed off the stone walls and resonated through the sky like a war cry.

Ronics everywhere reacted in panic. Grandmasters shot into the sky in streaks of purple flame. Guards rushed to the fort walls. Patrol units started forming defensive lines.

The entire city snapped into emergency mode within seconds.

Back in the meeting hall, the siren struck Orobas, Dorian, and Primus awake.

All three stood up at once.

"What happened?" Dorian muttered, alarmed.

"I don’t know," Orobas said, voice sharp. "But we’re going to find out. Let’s go."

They rushed out of the chamber just as a Ronic grandmaster flew toward them at full speed, stopping only when he recognized Orobas.

"Lord Platius is inviting you," he said quickly. "He requests your presence immediately."

Orobas exchanged a heavy look with his son and grandson, then nodded.

"Lead us."

The grandmaster turned, flying ahead, and the trio followed him through the violet-lit corridors toward the ancestral chamber.

They arrived outside the ancestral chamber, and several Ronic grandmasters were already gathered there. Their faces were tense, their weapons glowing faintly with violet flame. When they saw Orobas and his group, they parted to make a path but the way some of them stared was sharp, suspicious, almost threatening.

Orobas stepped through the opening, and the moment his eyes fell on Modrin’s corpse, he whispered, "What...?" The shock in his voice was unmistakable.

Primus stiffened. Even he couldn’t hide the flicker of surprise in his eyes. He scanned the chamber carefully, searching for me.

Platius knelt beside his father’s body, head bowed. His voice shook as he spoke.

"Ancestor Orobas... I found my father like this. I checked the wound and his body. There are clear traces of soul flame."

Orobas’s expression tightened. He moved forward and knelt down beside the corpse. For a few seconds, he examined the wound, the burn marks, the faint soul residue still clinging to the flesh.

His eyes narrowed into slits.

"It is the soul flame," he growled. "Damn it... if I had been even one breath late, this would have been me."

He rose to his feet with clenched fists, anger simmering in his voice.

"Platius, contact the Envoy immediately. Tell him what happened. Tell him the Bloodreavers and Ronics demand the handover of Romothese. If he refuses, we will march to the Del Rey capital ourselves. Are you with me?"

A silence fell over the chamber.

Then one of the older Ronic grandmasters stepped forward. He looked ancient.

"Lord Platius," he said firmly, "give us the word. We will summon every Ronic from across Armus. We will slaughter the Del Reys to the last drop if needed. This is the first time our ancestor has been killed, we cannot let this go unanswered."

Platius stood slowly, shoulders stiff with grief. He exhaled deeply before speaking.