My Talent's Name Is Generator

Chapter 662: Humiliating Gyros

Suddenly, Aurora let out a long sigh in my mind.

’There’s no point arguing with a childish girl.’

Lyrate froze.

’What did you just say?’ she asked, voice dripping with offense.

’She said you’re childish,’ Ragnar answered immediately, laughing like this was the best entertainment of his day.

’I can hear her, Ragnar,’ Lyrate snapped.

’Then why did you ask?’ Ragnar replied, honestly confused.

Aurora chuckled softly. ’Exactly my point.’

’You idiot,’ Lyrate growled, and I felt her irritation spike like a blade. She swung her hand downward. The massive tree she had summoned shuddered, and dozens of thick roots shot upward like spears, tearing through the stunned Del Rey grandmasters.

The formation below shattered completely. The Del Rey army dissolved into pure panic, running in every direction as roots ripped through ranks, formations, even defensive arrays like they were made of wet cloth.

"NOOOOO!" Herald’s scream tore across the battlefield.

He barely had time to look up before Primus blurred into existence above him. A blazing knee smashed into his skull, throwing him down like a broken projectile. The ground cracked violently where he landed.

Primus crashed down beside him, grabbed Herald by the hair, and hauled his broken body upward.

His voice shook with rage.

"If you wanted Armus," he said, each word grinding through his teeth, "you could have fought us like warriors. If you wanted Armus, you could have schemed in the shadows and faced us yourself."

He pulled Herald closer, face inches away.

"But to send your whore daughter into my home... to leave behind an innocent child you never cared about... I have never met filth like you."

Before Herald could speak, Primus’ sword flashed.

A clean, hot arc of crimson fire split the air.

Herald’s head separated from his body and rolled across the ruined ground.

The battlefield froze for a heartbeat then the Bloodreavers erupted into thunderous cheers.

On the other side, the Ronic grandmasters exchanged tense looks. Seeing Primus defeat Herald so easily was not just a victory... It was a declaration. The Bloodreavers were now undisputedly the strongest family in Armus.

Herald’s death broke whatever courage the Del Rey army had left. Panic rippled through their ranks. Demons threw their positions and sprinted for the teleportation portal they had built at the back of their formation.

’That’s my cue,’ Silver muttered across the link.

A sharp sonic boom exploded as he shot forward. His wings cut through the air like blades, and he landed directly in front of the portal.

Both his palms lifted.

A storm of wind detonated outward, forming a massive barrier, a spinning wall of compressed air and slicing wind-blades. Demons slammed into it. Those who tried to force their way through were shredded instantly, torn apart before they could scream.

The fleeing army recoiled in pure terror...but turning back only made things worse.

Lyrate’s giant tree stood behind them like a living executioner. Roots erupted again, sweeping through the soldiers, hurling them aside, impaling some, crushing others. Their cries filled the valley.

Then—

"WAITTTTT!"

A desperate shout echoed across the battlefield.

I smiled. The envoy had finally arrived.

Gyros streaked through the air like a frantic comet. He stopped above the surrounded Del Rey forces, chest heaving as if he had sprinted across continents.

His eyes scanned the battlefield, the dead Del Rey elites, the scattered limbs, the craters of blood and finally the headless corpse of Herald.

His expression twisted from neutral to panic to rage.

"Orobas! Platius!" Gyros roared. "How dare you start this war?! I expressly forbade it!"

Every demon stilled. Even Lyrate’s monstrous tree stopped mid-strike.

"Gyros."

Primus’ voice rolled through the valley like thunder.

He rose through the air until he stood eye-to-eye with the envoy.

"I was waiting for you," Primus said calmly. "Tell me... you were working with the Del Reys, weren’t you? You know where Lana is. You helped her. You colluded with her to bring this chaos to Armus."

Gyros didn’t flinch.

"Don’t twist the truth, Primus. Look at this battlefield!" he shouted. "So many demons have died today because of your baseless accusations! The abomination zones are left unmanned! Armus will suffer because of your family’s arrogance!"

"Is that so?" Primus smiled coldly. "Then tell me, dear envoy... will you hold us responsible? Show me how you plan to do that."

For the first time, Gyros hesitated. His eyes darted toward Orobas.

"Orobas! Are you hearing him? Is your family rebelling?" His voice cracked with strain.

But Orobas said nothing. He only stared at Primus, fire glowing in his eyes.

Primus chuckled and took a step closer in the air. Flames burned brighter around him.

"Gyros... you seem to have forgotten something important."

He spread his arms wide.

"The Demon Monarch became Monarch after crushing the skulls of multiple envoys. When his world was threatened, just as Armus is now, he sent back the envoy’s head as a warning."

Gyros paled.

Primus didn’t stop.

"But I don’t care about your life." Fire ignited across his body in a fiery bloom. "I care about your qualifications."

In the next instant he blurred forward.

He appeared right in front of Gyros, face inches away, flames roaring around him like a burning crown.

"Prove today," Primus whispered, "that you deserve to call yourself the envoy of Armus."

Primus didn’t wait for Gyros to respond.

His fist shot forward, wreathed in blazing red fire.

BOOM!

Gyros blocked with his forearm, but the impact sent him hurling backward through the air. Before the envoy could breathe, Primus was already there, appearing through the flames like a hunting beast.

Gyros roared and finally drew his sword. A long black blade, humming with compressed fire essence. He slashed upward. Space tears opened like a cloth being torn. Primus twisted aside, flame trailing behind him, and brought his own sword down in a brutal arc.

CLANG!

Their swords collided, sending shockwaves across the sky. They exchanged blows, fast, brutal, unrestrained. Each clash sent sparks and flames flying. Each step from Primus cracked the air. Gyros tried to stabilize himself, but Primus didn’t give him even half a breath.

The envoy managed a thrust toward Primus’ heart. Primus smacked the blade aside with his forearm, letting the edge carve a shallow gash. He didn’t even blink.

"You fight like a clerk," Primus growled, voice booming.

His knee slammed into Gyros’ ribs.

Crack.

The envoy gasped, eyes widening.

Primus grabbed him by the throat, spun once, and hurled him downward.

Gyros smashed into the ground, skidding across rock and broken bodies before slamming to a stop. He coughed blood, face twisted in disbelief. Before he could rise, Primus descended like a meteor.

He stomped down. The envoy barely rolled away, his cloak catching fire in the blast.

Primus’ laughter echoed.

"Envoy of Armus? This is the best you can offer?! At least pretend you deserve the title!"

Gyros gritted his teeth and forced himself onto his feet but it was clear to everyone watching:

Primus was dominating him.