My Talent's Name Is Generator

Chapter 745: Departure

We were packed and ready to leave Dragos, the platform already cleared for departure, the low hum of engines from nearby ships bleeding into the air like a constant reminder that nothing here ever truly rested.

Kharzun stood near the edge, arms folded across his chest, armor sealed and formal again, the casual looseness he carried during the celebration stripped away. Saleos stood beside him, posture easy, but his attention sharp, eyes tracking everything without seeming to focus on anything in particular.

Then Kharzun broke the silence. "You altered the course of this war for us," he said. "Not just this rift. Not just this planet. The way we fight from here on."

I shook my head slightly. "I just removed blind spots. You already had the strength. You’ll handle the rest."

He studied me for a moment, as if weighing whether to argue, then let it go. "Perhaps," he said. "But blind spots are how empires bleed out."

Saleos turned toward me then.

"You did more than improve our tactics," he said. "You bought us time. And in a war like this, time is the rarest resource."

He paused, just long enough for the words to settle. "We didn’t realize how much we needed that until you handed it to us."

There was no flourish in the way he said it. Just honesty.

"Thank you," he added quietly.

I inclined my head once.

Behind us, a short distance away, Primus stood with Lana. She looked nothing like the woman I had first noticed across the hall. The confidence she’d worn then had peeled away, leaving something quieter, more fragile underneath. She didn’t look at anyone directly. Her gaze stayed fixed somewhere between the deck plates and the open sky.

Primus didn’t touch her, but he stood close enough that distance wasn’t an option.

I walked over to him.

He noticed my approach and turned, his expression steady, controlled, but there was weight in his eyes now.

"This is where we split," I said.

He nodded. "Yeah. I’ll take her home."

There was no hesitation in his voice.

I held out my hand.

He took it immediately, his grip firm, familiar, grounding.

"I’ll leave the demon side to you," I said. "Whatever quest you get from here on, you complete it. Don’t stall. Don’t settle. Push through and become transcendent."

His fingers tightened slightly around mine. "I was planning to."

I met his gaze. "I’m serious. I’ll need you someday. Not as backup or support. I’ll need you standing on your own."

That finally drew a small smile from him. Not the joking one he used to wear. Something quieter. More real.

"You will," he said. "I won’t make you regret it."

Before I could respond, he stepped forward and pulled me into a brief, solid embrace.

"Thank you," he said under his breath. "For everything."

I didn’t say anything back. There wasn’t anything that needed to be said.

He stepped away, turned, and started toward the smaller ship waiting at the far end of the platform. Lana followed him after a moment, her steps slower, uncertain, but she followed. When the hatch closed and the engines began to hum, I didn’t turn to watch.

Some endings didn’t need witnesses.

Kharzun approached again, this time holding a small sealed object in one gauntleted hand. The casing was dark metal, heavy for its size, etched with sigils that radiated authority even without activation.

"This bears the Demon Monarch’s seal," he said, placing it into my hand. "It will grant you passage into Sector Zero."

I paused, the weight of the object registering immediately.

"The center," I said.

He nodded. "Elementals. Nagas. Ferans. All three maintain their core headquarters there. Entry is... controlled."

I turned the sealed letter once in my hand. "This should help."

"It will," Saleos said. "And it will be noticed."

I looked at him. "Good."

Two larger ships detached from adjacent platforms then, their hulls marked clearly with Dragos’ insignia. They moved into position without ceremony, flanking our ship with practiced ease.

Escorts.

A message.

Kharzun glanced toward them. "They’ll take you to the boundary. Beyond that, you’re on your own."

"That works for me," I replied.

He nodded once. "Then go. Dragos remembers who stands with it."

Before we moved to board, my attention shifted to the side of the platform.

Steve stood a short distance away with Mazikeen, close enough to talk, far enough that neither of them quite knew what to do with their hands. The noise of departing ships and clearing crews gave them cover, but the awkwardness was unmistakable.

"So," Steve said, rubbing the back of his neck, eyes flicking anywhere but her face. "Looks like we’re heading out."

Mazikeen snorted softly. "I noticed. Big dramatic exit. Escorts and all."

He smiled, a little strained. "Yeah. Guess that’s my life now."

There was a pause.

"Take care of yourself," he said finally. "Dragos isn’t exactly... gentle."

She looked at him then, one eyebrow lifting. "You worried about me?"

"I’m realistic," he replied. "And maybe a little worried."

Her lips curved faintly. "Good. I’d hate to think you forgot me already."

He hesitated, then added, "If something happens to you, I’ll come back."

She laughed, low and dangerous. "For revenge?"

"Something like that," he said. "Wouldn’t be fair otherwise."

Mazikeen stepped closer. "Relax. It was one night. I survived worse."

She stepped back again, giving him a final look. "But don’t die out there."

Steve watched her turn away, then exhaled slowly and walked back toward us, expression thoughtful.

We boarded our ship shortly after, the platform already beginning to clear behind us.

Except for Primus, all of us were back aboard the ship. As Dragos receded behind us, I felt a familiar pull settle in my chest, not from the planet we were leaving, but from something new waiting within my core. There was one summon I hadn’t called forth yet, one I’d deliberately held back until we were clear of Dragos, and the anticipation of finally seeing it sharpened my focus as the ship moved into open space.

As the ship lifted, Dragos fell away beneath us.

From above, the contrast was impossible to ignore. The civilized half spread outward in controlled patterns, disciplined fire, structure enforced by will and tradition. Beyond it, the wild side churned endlessly, a living scar of flame, chaos, and freedom, demons roaming without restraint, strength defining survival without apology.

One planet.

Two truths.

Neither pretending to be the other.

Steve glanced back briefly.

"So," he said, grinning slightly, "Sector Zero next?"

"Eventually," I replied.

The ship broke through the upper atmosphere, heat and ash giving way to open space. Dragos shrank behind us.

The escort ships fell into formation without comment.

Ahead, the galaxy waited.