My Talent's Name Is Generator

I stood in silence, my eyes slowly adjusting to the vast hall around me. The first thing I noticed was the stillness inside me, my domain had flickered out on its own, Right to Insight had gone quiet, and even the steady hum of the generator core, something that had never failed before, had fallen silent.

It felt unnatural, as if this place rejected every tool and power I carried.

Directly ahead, I saw three rows of chairs.

Six stood in the first row.

Behind them, on a raised platform, five more formed the second row.

And at the very back, on the highest platform, there was only a single chair, set apart from the rest.

Twelve chairs in total.

They were empty at first, gleaming faintly under the white glow of the marble floor.

I turned, scanning the hall.

It reminded me of the throne hall in the main castle, but there was no trace of the charred ruin I had seen before.

Here, everything was pristine. The walls and pillars were carved from polished white marble, so clear that my own reflection stared back at me wherever I looked.

Light filtered in through tall windows, where endless clouds drifted lazily outside, like I was standing in a palace above the sky itself.

I took a cautious step forward, intent on exploring, but the instant my foot touched the marble, the entire tower shuddered.

The tremor wasn't violent, but deep and resonant. Instinct froze me in place.

Then I saw why.

The twelve chairs ahead began to flicker, their outlines warping like mirages. One after another, shadows stretched into shape, hardening into distinct figures.

They did not move, but their presence was undeniable, each one filled the air with a pressure that weighed heavier than mountains.

In moments, eleven chairs filled. Only one remained empty in the second row.

Every instinct in my body screamed at me to step back and kneel.

Instead, I furrowed my brows and let my own presence spill out. My class stirred in response, and the will of the Executor burst forth with full force. I stood my ground, head held high, staring at the flickering shapes.

"Hooo… would you look at that," one of the beings in the first row spoke.

The voice carried a strange weight, but when I stared at the shapes, I still couldn't tell what I was looking at.

It felt like someone was there, and at the same time, no one was. Like a projection but so poor in quality that the figures were warped, their edges twisting and blurring, refusing to settle into a clear form.

"So, another activation," a voice came from the second row. It sounded feminine, but I couldn't be certain. It was like every word echoed through layers before reaching me.

"How many has it been now? It should be in the millions by this point," another voice added, casual, almost bored.

"Impossible," a sharper tone replied. "Based on my calculations, it can't be more than seven. Not even if eternity itself were to pass."

"Your calculations have never been right," someone shot back immediately.

"I predicted your death correctly," the sharper voice retorted without hesitation.

"That was a fluke."

The reply came quick, dismissive, layered with scorn.

"You only call it a fluke because you're afraid of being wrong again."

Their words overlapped, their distorted shapes flickering faster with every exchange, as though their bickering itself destabilized their forms.

Then, before the argument could continue, a single voice cut through them all.

"Silence."

The word wasn't loud, but it pressed against my chest like a mountain. It came from the being seated in the first chair. The moment it spoke, the others went still, the air around me falling heavy and cold.

I clenched my fists at my sides, forcing myself not to step back.

The being in the center chair spoke again, his voice steady, like it had carried authority for countless years.

"My name is Gracious Shijian. Also known as Saint Shijian. I see that you are a human?"

I blinked, caught off guard. My thoughts snagged on one word—Saint. The moment I heard it, my mind jumped to the rank. Without hesitation, I asked,

"Saint? Do you mean the rank Saint?"

Silence followed for a few long seconds, stretching so thin it made my chest tighten. Then the man replied.

"Yes. Why are you so surprised? Are there no more Saints left?"

No more Saints? I almost laughed. In my head, I couldn't help but think, 'No more Saints? I haven't even seen one. And you barely count, you're nothing more than a flickering ghost.'

"You have not seen one ever? How?" the man asked suddenly.

My eyes widened. I froze. The words in my head… he had answered them. I stumbled a step back, heart racing, and instantly tried to will Node 3 open. Nothing happened.

"What—?" I muttered in shock.

"No need to panic," Shijian said calmly, his tone almost patient. "I cannot read your mind. But this is not your real body. What stands here is only a projection of your soul and will. And so, your thoughts also get projected."

I forced myself to steady my breathing, calming my racing heart. Slowly, I straightened and narrowed my thoughts to a tight wall. If my thoughts leaked, then I had to guard them as carefully as my body.

"Yes," I said after a pause. "I have not seen any Saints. There are none in my world."

"Your world?" His head tilted slightly, as though studying me. "You are not from the Prime Galaxy?"

"No," I answered plainly.

"I see. That explains why you do not recognize my name."

Before I could respond, another voice rose. This time it was softer, clear, and undeniably feminine. It came from the second row, carrying a tone of curiosity sharpened with doubt.

"Someone not from the Prime Galaxy… not from one of the top races… and only at the Grandmaster rank. That is surprising. Why did we not predict this?"

Her words settled heavily in the air.

The man at the center chair, the one who called himself Saint Shijian, answered without the slightest pause.

"System. I can feel the breath of the System on him."

For a few seconds, no one spoke. The flickering figures leaned forward, their indistinct forms watching me with a weight that pressed on my skin. Then the same feminine voice returned, colder now, edged with something close to accusation.

"But that was not the agreement."

Shijian did not flinch. His tone remained steady, but even I caught the tension buried beneath his calm words.

"Something has changed. Something neither we, nor even the System itself, could account for."

The silence deepened. I could almost feel the weight of their thoughts grinding against each other, like massive gears turning slowly in the dark.

"The question," Shijian finished, "is what could it be?"