My Talent's Name Is Generator

Chapter 747: A New Warlord

We stepped out of my room and made our way down the corridor toward the control room. The hum of the ship grew louder as we approached, voices bleeding through the partially open doorway before we even stepped inside.

Everyone was already there.

I cleared my throat once.

"That’s everyone, right?" I said, more to center the room than to ask. When I had their attention, I stepped slightly to the side. "Alright. Everyone, meet the newest member of the Order of Absolute. Step forward."

The figure behind me moved.

The Eternal walked into the room with measured steps, posture straight, presence immediately noticeable even without any aura flaring. Matte black from head to toe, humanoid and precise, red eyes steady and alert as they took in the space.

Steve let out a low whistle before he could stop himself. "Well damn," he muttered.

Before anyone else could move, a shadow flickered.

Knight appeared directly in front of Ash in a silent flash, close enough that the sudden displacement stirred the air.

Knight stopped and looked up at him. "I did not expect that."

I exhaled faintly. "Yeah. I didn’t expect that either."

Knight’s gaze lingered. "He appears... strong."

I nodded. "He is."

The Eternal didn’t react immediately. His eyes tracked Knight’s movement instead, scanning from ears to claws, from shadow-wrapped limbs to the faint distortion around his form. He turned his head slightly and looked at me.

"He is not hostile," he said, more observation than question.

"He’s a friend," I replied.

He inclined his head once in acknowledgment.

Aurora didn’t bother waiting.

She hopped down and walked a slow circle around him, hands clasped behind her back, sparks flickering faintly along her hair as curiosity took over. "Huh," she said. "I didn’t expect the color change."

She stopped in front of him and leaned back slightly to look up at his face. "Not gray. Not shiny. Doesn’t look like them at all. Still feels weird though." She smiled. "But I like it. Looks good on you."

The Eternal blinked once, processing.

North stepped forward then.

"What’s his name?" she asked.

"I haven’t decided yet," I said. "I’m open to opinions."

Aurora’s hand shot up instantly. "Vante."

I glanced at her. "No."

She frowned. "You didn’t even think about it."

"I did. Still no."

Ragnar leaned in slightly from where he was standing. "Blackhammer."

Steve turned to stare at him. "You’re just naming weapons again."

Ragnar shrugged. "Strong names are good names."

Steve chuckled. "Yeah, Blackhammer. Sounds like he should be smashing mountains and yelling a lot."

Lyrate spoke up quietly. "Names shape direction," she said. "Choose carefully."

There was a brief pause.

North looked at him again, then spoke. "What about Ash?"

I repeated it once under my breath. "Ash."

Steve nodded slowly. "Yeah. That actually fits."

Aurora smiled. "I like that one."

I looked at Ash. "Alright. From now on, your name is Ash."

Ash inclined his head again, deeper this time. "I will answer to Ash."

With that settled, the tension eased. Conversations resumed naturally, people drifting back to consoles and displays, voices overlapping as the ship continued its steady course forward.

Ash remained where he was for a moment, then stepped aside slightly, observing everything in silence as the Order of Absolute moved on around him, already folding him into its rhythm.

******

Somewhere near the center of the Blue Spiral Galaxy, old scars were splitting open once more.

What had never truly healed was beginning to ache again.

A Grade Three rift burned across a fractured stretch of space. The Nagas had committed heavily to this front. Their banners floated alongside defensive platforms, warriors moving with disciplined precision as they held the line against the tide pouring out of the rift.

On one of the outer platforms, space rippled.

A tall Naga man stepped through the distortion. His scales were visible along his arms and neck, patterned and dark, but his aura remained muted, pressed low and controlled. Anyone less perceptive would have mistaken him for an ordinary officer.

He wasn’t.

His eyes swept the platform once before settling on a single figure.

With one step, he vanished.

He reappeared beside her in a flicker of displaced space.

She was in the middle of issuing instructions to the warriors gathered around her, her voice calm, authoritative, when she sensed him. She turned just as he arrived.

"Xebec," she said, her tone sharp with surprise. "What are you doing here?"

The warriors froze, recognition flashing across their faces. One by one, they bowed deeply and withdrew without a word, leaving the two of them alone on the platform.

Xebec watched them go, then looked back at her properly.

For a brief moment, something unguarded crossed his expression. He took in her pale skin, the faint natural glow beneath it, the long blue hair that flowed down to her hips as if guided by unseen currents. Her eyes, still slitted like a serpent’s, carried a depth that hadn’t been there centuries ago. Her robes shimmered faintly, translucent strands of light trailing behind her like ripples on water.

He appreciated her beauty internally.

He did not let it show.

"Azalea..." he began, then paused, recalibrating. "I came with news."

Her eyes narrowed slightly. She caught the shift, the aborted familiarity, but chose not to comment.

"What kind of news makes you abandon your station during a rift engagement?" she asked.

Xebec exhaled slowly. "Several things. None of them small."

She waited.

"For starters," he continued, "Vaelix Ranthor and Velaira Ranthor are dead."

Azalea’s composure cracked, just barely.

"They’re... dead?" she asked.

"Yes," Xebec replied. "Both of them."

She stared at him for a moment, processing. "That’s... confirmed?"

"Completely," he said. "And the Ferans are not taking it well."

Azalea’s jaw tightened.

"As I told you before," Xebec went on, "they left their territory chasing something. Vaelix told me he was going to take another wife." He snorted softly. "You know how they are. Always smiling, always hiding knives."

Azalea nodded, unease settling in her chest.

"Now his remaining wives are widowed," Xebec said, his tone darkening. "And he never came back. You remember where I said he was going."

She hesitated.

Then nodded.

Xebec chuckled, humorless. "Then you’re thinking in the right direction."

He didn’t give her time to dwell on it.

"There’s more," he said. "We received another report yesterday. The demons have successfully closed a Grade Four rift."

Azalea’s eyes widened.

"A Grade Four?" she repeated. "That’s impossible. They haven’t managed that in decades."

"And yet," Xebec said, "it happened."

"How?" she asked immediately, urgency bleeding into her voice. Since returning, she had wanted nothing more than to contribute meaningfully. Closing a rift herself had been at the top of her list.

"They weren’t alone," Xebec replied. "They allied with a group calling themselves the Order of Absolute."

She frowned. "I’ve never heard of them."

"Neither had most people," he said. "Until now. They’re being referred to as a new member of Warlord Of The Void."

Azalea absorbed that. "One group was enough to tip a Grade Four?"

"That’s what we’ve confirmed," Xebec said. "And here’s the part that concerns you."

He raised his hand and projected a holographic image between them.

A man stood in the image, face calm, posture steady, standing directly across from an Eternal. Violet Essence hung faintly around him, distorting the space just enough to be unmistakable.

Azalea froze.

Her hand rose slowly to cover her mouth.

"Billion," she whispered.

Xebec watched her reaction carefully. "Yes," he said quietly. "The same one you asked me to keep an eye out for."

Her eyes didn’t leave the image.

The war, the rifts, the rising tensions between races, all of it suddenly felt like it was aligning around a single, dangerous axis.

And she had a sinking feeling that this time, nothing would remain contained for long.

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