My Talent's Name Is Generator

Chapter 815  The Sword

I did not hesitate and flew straight toward the peak. Each step forward brought the summit closer, the black sword growing clearer against the dark sky behind it. When I reached the top, I landed softly on a flattened section of stone carved naturally into a circular platform. At its center lay another red circle. The sword stood embedded directly in that circle.

Only a few inches of the blade were visible above the stone, the rest buried deep within the mountain itself. The blade was black, matte and without reflection, except for a single silver line running cleanly along its center from tip to guard. The handle was wrapped tightly in dark rope binding, thin but firm, layered neatly to provide grip. The guard was minimal, practical, without ornament. There was no decoration on the sword.

I stepped forward and placed my hand on the handle.

The moment my fingers closed around it, death washed over me.

It was not an attack.

It was certainty.

An overwhelming instinct screamed that if I did not remove my hand immediately, I would die on that very spot. My body reacted before thought could form, muscles tightening, heart surging, senses flaring. It felt absolute, as though the sword had already decided my fate.

For a fraction of a second, the instinct to pull away rose sharply.

I did not move.

Instead, my aura exploded outward.

Essence surged from me in a violent wave, spreading across the peak and beyond. The floating landmass trembled under the force as my presence expanded, pushing back against the crushing certainty of death. The pressure intensified immediately in response, pressing harder against my mind, my core, my soul.

It tried to invade.

It moved past the surface of thought and into the deeper layers of my being, attempting to project an ending directly into my soul space. I let it enter.

My soul trembled under the impact.

The illusion was vivid. A vision of finality. Of erasure.

Then a ripple passed through my soul.

The compression of everything I had gained. Every hall. Every battle. Every fusion. Every soul absorbed.

The illusion cracked.

It shattered. The certainty of death broke apart under the density of my will. The pressure did not disappear, but it weakened enough for me to focus. I tightened my grip and pulled.

The sword did not move.

Not even a fraction.

I narrowed my eyes and pushed more strength into my arm. My muscles tightened, veins standing out as I exerted force. The stone beneath my feet cracked faintly under the pressure.

The blade shifted.

Barely.

Two inches.

That was all I managed. The resistance was immense. It felt as though the mountain itself was gripping the blade from below, refusing to let it rise. My arm trembled under the strain, but I did not release it.

I exhaled slowly.

This was not about technique.

It was about strength.

I activated my physical ability without hesitation, essence redistribution and moved 20% of my Psynapse to my strength. The transfer was immediate and the effect immense. I felt the increase surge through my body, my muscles tightening with renewed force.

I pulled again.

The blade rose another inch.

The mountain trembled violently this time, cracks spreading outward from the red circle beneath my feet. The pressure from the sword intensified, but I held steady, pushing through it.

Little by little, I forced it upward. Each inch required effort. Each movement demanded more from me.

The silver line along the blade became more visible as it emerged, the black steel revealing itself gradually. My arm shook, but I did not stop. My aura flared again, reinforcing my body as I continued pulling.

Another inch.

Then another.

The resistance did not lessen, but neither did I. Finally, with one final surge of strength, I tore the sword free. The mountain shook violently as the blade left the stone entirely. The red circle beneath my feet cracked and split apart. For a moment, everything went still.

I stood there, breathing steadily, the sword now fully in my hand. For a brief moment, nothing happened. The mountain remained still beneath my feet, and the silence stretched outward in every direction.

Then the landmass trembled.

It began as a low vibration, subtle but unmistakable, traveling from the peak downward through the stone beneath me. The red circle that had cracked when I pulled the blade free now fractured further, thin lines spreading outward like veins across the flattened summit. The tremor intensified rapidly, no longer contained to the peak but flowing through the entire structure.

An aura surged outward. The moment it expanded across the void, brushing against my senses, I recognized it instantly.

Amun.

It was faint, not his full presence, but unmistakably his. The same calm depth, the same layered strength hidden beneath composure. The aura spread outward in a wide pulse, washing across the surrounding emptiness before fading.

The tremors grew violent.

Cracks began forming along the mountain's surface, starting from the summit and racing downward in jagged lines. The stone split with sharp echoes that rang across the void. Entire sections of the peak shifted as fissures widened, tearing apart what had once been a seamless structure.

I did not wait.

I stepped back and flashed away from the summit, teleporting several hundred meters into open space. From there, I watched.

The mountain groaned as another massive fracture split it from top to base. The surface buckled inward before snapping outward, sending chunks of stone drifting loose.

The cracks reached the underside.

The ruined city, once hidden beneath the mountain's base, was now exposed as the structure broke apart. Streets split. Buildings collapsed as the foundation beneath them shattered. Towers that had stood broken for ages now crumbled entirely, dissolving into fragments that tumbled into the void.

Another tremor rippled through the mass.

A deep fracture tore through the center of the mountain, dividing it into two massive halves. The separation widened slowly at first, stone grinding against stone, then suddenly snapped apart as the internal structure gave way.

The landmass exploded.

It was not a fiery explosion, but a violent disintegration. The mountain broke into countless fragments, large slabs splitting into smaller pieces as they drifted outward. The ruined city was reduced to debris within seconds, its remnants scattering among the broken stone.

The entire floating structure that had once seemed eternal now existed only as fragments drifting in silent emptiness.

I remained suspended at a distance, sword in hand, watching the debris spread outward slowly.

There was no more red circle. No more halls. Only shattered stone floating in the void. The trial had ended and I heard multiple system notifications.