My Talent's Name Is Generator

Chapter 695: Left Commander Rael

We weren’t trapped. But we were very, very deep inside the lair.

And for now, we were pretending to be guests.

Full escape was not guaranteed, but hiding was something I was confident I could pull off.

My eyes moved across the third layer as my perception fed me a complete picture of the area. Cargo stations. Medical platforms. Private quarters. Supply depots. Then the three checkpoints Dravon’s ship had passed through earlier, each one reinforced and monitored far more tightly than the rest.

After the third checkpoint, there was only the veil shield.

If things went wrong, crossing that shield openly would be suicide. Which meant I needed options, layers of them.

I began my work.

I moved without haste, slipping through space in short, careful jumps. I never stayed in one place for more than a minute. Each time I arrived, I folded a small pocket of space inward, carving it cleanly away from the surrounding void.

Inside each pocket space, I inscribed a teleportation circle.

Not crude ones. These were layered constructs, runes anchored with soul energy, stabilized with Essence, and masked so thoroughly that even Transcendents passing nearby would only feel faint distortion, easily mistaken for battlefield noise.

The first three pocket spaces went between the checkpoints.

I placed them carefully, each one positioned so that I could jump from one to the next without ever crossing a monitored lane directly. If we were forced to retreat, we wouldn’t need to fight our way through the checkpoints, we would simply vanish between them.

The next two went near major cargo stations. Those areas were always busy, always loud in Essence signatures. Perfect places to disappear in plain sight.

Another went near the infirmary platform. I hesitated for a moment before placing it there, but the logic was sound. No one questions sudden spatial fluctuations near wounded soldiers and emergency transports.

Two more were anchored close to private quarters, far enough to avoid direct scans, close enough to be useful if we needed to extract someone quietly.

The ninth pocket space was the most important.

I placed it between the second and third layer, tucked into a dead zone where multiple Essence flows collided and canceled each other out. From there, I could jump directly toward the veil shield or retreat deeper if needed.

When I finished, I paused and let my perception sweep over all nine points.

They held.

Each pocket space was stable. Each teleportation circle was clean. None of them interfered with the others. If necessary, we could move through the entire third layer without ever being seen.

I exhaled slowly.

This wasn’t an escape route yet. It was a promise that we wouldn’t die like trapped prey.

With that done, I shifted my focus. Escape was preparation.

Now it was time to understand the battlefield well enough that we wouldn’t need to run at all, and so I moved toward the second layer.

The moment I crossed into it, the atmosphere changed.

Unlike the third layer, which was rigid, controlled, and sharp like a drawn blade, the second layer felt heavy. This was where the defenders rested, recovered, and waited to be sent back into the grinder. Massive barracks-like structures floated in ordered lines, all of them facing the core layer and, beyond that, the distant glow of the rift.

My perception spread quietly.

I passed through halls filled with injured demons lying on reinforced beds. Some were missing limbs, others had scars that hadn’t fully closed because the laws around the rift resisted healing. Medics moved between them without wasting words. This wasn’t panic. It was routine. That made it worse.

I saw the same injuries repeating across different halls. Burned bodies. Crushed limbs. Torn muscels that never fully healed.

Soldiers moved on instinct, already knowing where to lie down, which platform to float toward, which medic to signal without speaking. No one asked names anymore. The medics didn’t need them. They worked by habit, hands steady, faces blank, saving lives because that was the only thing left to do.

And yet, there were points of light.

Figures like Dravon moved through the wounded, stopping to speak, placing a hand on a shoulder, sharing a few quiet words. No long speeches. Just presence. Just proof that someone strong was still standing, still watching.

I also sensed beings from other races. Mercenaries. Volunteers. Survivors who had nowhere else to go. They were resting, but their minds were far from calm. Most of them stared into nothing, eyes fixed on the void outside, as if replaying the same moment again and again.

Fatigue hung over this layer like fog.

There were a few exceptions. A few hundred demons moved with purpose, their Essence steady and bright. Veterans like Dravon. People who had learned how to survive without breaking. But they were rare.

I drifted closer to one of the larger structures and slowed when I heard something interesting.

"...the Fourth Battalion took heavy damage," one demon said, his voice kept deliberately low.

"They walked straight into it," another replied, bitterness barely restrained. "A planned ambush. Clean. Too clean."

I scanned the discussing demons and found two Transcendents among them. Their auras were restrained but they were injured as well.

"What about Left Commander Rael?" a third voice asked.

There was a pause. A long one.

"He’s alive," one of the Transcendents finally said. "Barely. Left Commander Rael was injured badly. They managed to pull him out before the formation collapsed. He’s been transferred to the Arx-9 medical base."

No one spoke after that.

I stored that name away.

Rael. Left commander. Injured in an ambush.

As the group fell silent, I moved on.

This layer showed the cost of the war far more clearly than the third. Here, the shields didn’t hide exhaustion. The walls didn’t mute despair. Every structure carried the weight of loss.

I continued drifting from platform to platform, careful and unseen. Every few structures, I placed another pocket space, each one holding a teleportation circle sealed with runes and soul energy. All of it connected.

By the time I turned my attention toward the Arx-9 base, I already knew one thing for sure. This battlefield was bleeding.