My Talent's Name Is Generator

Chapter 665: Army From Dragos

Knight and I stayed hidden while Silver, Aurora, and Ragnar moved through the remaining camps, helping Primus arrange things and letting their auras spill out under Primus’s guidance. Every demon who sensed them either stared with tight respect or froze with fear. Exactly what Primus wanted.

Steve and North had already gone back to the Del Rey capital with a few Bloodreaver commanders to secure the city.

Almost half an hour later, Lyrate reappeared beside us, a bright smile stretching across her face.

’How did it go?’ Knight asked immediately.

’It was fun,’ she said, sounding pleased with herself. ’You should’ve seen him. First he tried threatening me with the entire Dragos demon army, waving his title around like a banner. Then he started begging to at least know who I was. But all he could see was that wooden puppet thrashing him again and again. And healing him. And thrashing him again. I healed him up properly at the end and dropped him back in the Del Rey capital.’

’Sounds good,’ Knight replied with a nod.

Lyrate huffed. ’But he wasn’t completely broken. I saw anger still flickering in his eyes. I really wanted to kill him.’

’It’s fine,’ I said. ’He’ll be back here soon.’

The moment the words left my mouth, a massive tremor rippled through space. A violent spatial fluctuation tore open the sky, and a colossal red portal bloomed into existence high above the valley.

Knight’s tail flicked once. ’They’re here,’ he muttered.

An intense transcendent aura rolled out of the portal and swept across the entire battlefield like a living wave. Even from where I hovered, hidden in space, I felt the pressure hit my skin. The armies below stopped moving.

The first figure stepped out.

A demon towering, broad, bare-chested despite the burning heat around him. Two massive horns curled from his skull, both wrapped in flames that hissed and spat with every breath he took. A greatsword rested casually on his shoulder as if it weighed nothing.

His presence alone could have passed for an army.

Right behind him, two more transcendents stepped through the glowing red gateway. Their auras stacked onto his, pressing the entire valley deeper into silence.

Then the real force arrived.

Row by row, formation by formation, an army marched out, disciplined in a way Armus’s demons could never imitate. Black armor, polished and uniform, clung to each soldier like carved obsidian. The insignia of Dragos burned on their chestplates: a horned crown surrounded by fire.

Every single one of them... every single one... was a grandmaster.

A thousand-strong grandmaster regiment.

They marched without sound. No boasting, no roaring, no flexing of aura. Just the steady synchronized thud of armored boots hitting the air as if it were solid ground.

Nothing was visible through their armor except the red glow in their visors, thousands of identical, unblinking eyes scanning the battlefield like predators evaluating prey.

Knight let out a low whistle beside me.

’So Lana sent some really strong reinforcement,’ he muttered. ’This is going to be interesting.’

I exhaled slowly as the last row stepped out of the portal, their presence eclipsing the remaining armies. But the final person to step out was none other than the envoy.

’Hey Lyrate, are you sure you tortured him?’ Knight asked, half-joking.

’Don’t worry,’ she replied with a bright, satisfied smile. ’You’ll see the imprint I left on him soon enough.’

Primus paused mid-command, his head turning sharply toward the portal. The moment he felt the incoming auras, even he became serious. The battlefield, already quiet, grew heavier as the three transcendents fully stepped into view.

I narrowed my eyes and scanned the three demons carefully.

[Dravon Emberlord - Level 355]

[Korvath Emberlord - Level 327]

[Mazikeen Golas - Level 323]

The strongest of the three led from the front - Dravon. The other two followed half a step behind, clearly his subordinates. Two demons and a demoness.

The demoness was the first to catch my eye. She had deep red skin and a fit, toned body, every line of muscle visible, especially across her bare mid-section. No armor, just a black wrap around her chest and loose battle pants tied at the waist.

Her expression was sharp and serious, not a hint of playfulness in her eyes. Long dark hair fell straight down her back, and a pair of short horns pointed forward from her temples.

All three looked young for transcendents, their bodies carved with battle scars, each mark humming faintly with wild energy. Their auras weren’t refined like the envoy’s... they were violent, raw, the kind born only on the frontlines of constant war.

These were demons who fought every single day, who lived and breathed slaughter.

"Who is the head of the Bloodreaver family?" Dravon’s voice boomed across the battlefield.

Primus didn’t hesitate. He rose from the ground in a slow, controlled ascent, flames flickering subtly around his feet. My summons stayed behind on the ground.

"I am Primus Bloodreaver," he said, meeting Dravon’s gaze without fear.

Dravon’s eyes swept over him. His nose flared as if he were measuring the very scent of Primus’s strength. A faint, approving grunt left his throat.

"You look strong," Dravon said. "Good. Strong enough to face judgment."

The air tightened.

"We were told your families have aligned yourselves with the filthy Eternals," he continued, voice cutting through the valley. "That you are betraying the Demon Monarch. That you dared to throw Armus into chaos for your own gain."

Primus’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing yet.

"So," Dravon growled, spreading his arms slightly as if welcoming an execution, "gather everyone. Bloodreavers....all of you. It is time for your punishment."

A ripple passed through the armies.

The message was clear. This was not diplomacy. This was a hammer falling.

"And what proof do you have of us colluding with the Eternals or rebelling against the Monarch?" Primus asked.

Dravon didn’t even look at him.

His gaze shifted toward where the envoy, Gyros, stood. Gyros flinched when the transcendent’s eyes locked onto him.

"A formal submission was made by Envoy Gyros," Dravon said, pointing his sword at the trembling demon. "A written declaration stating that Armus’s leading families have fallen to corruption."

Primus’s flames flared.

"That submission," Dravon continued, "was stamped with the envoy’s seal, marked urgent, and sent directly to Dragos."

Finally, his attention returned to Primus.

"It is not our job to provide proof after that. We do not waste time debating with traitors. It is YOU who must prove you are not guilty."

Primus chuckled softly.