My Talent's Name Is Generator

I raised the blade and pointed it at the figures rushing below. My voice was low when I called the skill.

"[Sword Art: Rushing Rain]."

The air behind me rippled. Essence twisted, thin blades of light and shadow taking shape until the sky bristled with thousands of swords. They hung there for a breath, a silent storm waiting to fall.

I gave the command.

The swords plunged.

They tore through the air like a downpour, black lines carving straight into the capital. Roofs shattered. Streets split open. Stone and soil burst apart as the blades hammered down without pause.

Masters ranked individuals from all factions tried to scatter, but they were too slow. A dozen vanished under the first wave, bodies shredded before they could even cry out. Buildings crumbled as clean cuts split through their bases, collapsing them in plumes of dust.

Grandmasters below roared and raised barriers. For a heartbeat they held, but the storm was endless. One wall cracked. Another broke apart. Swords pierced through, stabbing into flesh, tearing through lines of defense as if they were paper screens.

Everywhere the blades struck, blood sprayed into the air, mixing with smoke and stone dust.

I stood still, watching it all. The swords fell without mercy, without pause, until the sky cleared and the storm ended.

"Hazel, control yourself," Lucien's voice reached me, low but sharp.

I turned my head for a moment. My brother was locked in combat with Saturn, their weapons clashing with a sound that shook the clouds themselves. Sparks fell like fireflies, their every strike echoing across the sky. He gave me that warning because he knew what was brewing inside me. But I ignored it.

Around me, the battle had become chaos.

Grandmasters tore through the sky like falling stars, blades and fists ringing as law clashed with law.

But still, I felt restless. I had no one of my own to cut down. No one to bleed for what they took from me. That anger twisted in my chest like a knife.

"All right then," I muttered under my breath. "I'll take every last one of you."

I stepped forward, and the world blurred.

In the next instant, I was face-to-face with one of their weaker masters. Cilian Moon. His level was 248, nothing compared to mine at 283. He had been dueling one of our Grandmasters, pressing him hard, but the moment I appeared, his blade faltered.

His eyes widened, fear dawning too late.

I didn't give him time to breathe. My sword moved, fast and silent. A single cut, clean as possible.

"[Sword Art: Whispering Edge]"

There was no sound. Only the sight of a black line tracing the air. His blade rose in panic, but mine slipped past with no resistance, kissing his throat. For a heartbeat, he froze. Then the line extended through his whole body, and Kellan Moon burst apart in a spray of blood.

I felt calm.

I didn't stop. My eyes locked on another presence. Taeren Moon. His level was 260, his aura pressing out like a storm cloud. He was already fending off one of ours, his swordwork heavy but full of defense, like a wall no one could break.

I wanted him.

I surged forward, ripping into their fight whether they welcomed me or not. My blade darted in, fast as lightning, forcing Taeren to adjust.

His blade crashed against mine, the impact cracking the air itself. He swung in wide arcs meant to crush me, but I slid inside, every step sharp and began a swordplay of constant flurry.

This was no single clean strike. This was pressure, relentless and suffocating. Every cut I made carried my will, fast, exact, hungry.

I pushed deeper, essence running wild through my veins, and whispered another name into the storm.

"[Abyss Severance: Spatial Rend]"

Space itself shivered around my blade. My swing opened thin seams in the air, little cracks that bled into Taeren's defenses. He met me blow for blow, but with every parry, another opening appeared. His rhythm faltered. His footing slipped.

I pressed harder, faster, the cuts coming too quick to track. His guard shattered under the endless tide. I moved past him in one final blur, the black seam dragging through his chest.

He stiffened, eyes wide. Then his body tore apart, bursting into fragments of blood and essence before tumbling toward the crater below.

I turned around to find my next prey when I saw a fallen grandmaster suddenly leave his fight and shoot outward, his cloak snapping in the wind. He didn't even glance back, just wanted out. I narrowed my eyes.

"Running already?" I chuckled and made sure he heard my voice.

He flinched, but didn't stop. His aura burned like a beacon for me as he tore through the clouds. I pushed off the air and chased, Essence flooding my limbs.

"You think you can just walk away after this?" I shouted.

He turned, face twisted. "I owe no one a damn thing!" A spear of flame formed in his hand and shot toward me. I dodged it effortlessly.

"You are on the wrong side today."

I increased my speed and arrived in front of him.

Our weapons clashed midair, the collision cracking like thunder. He staggered back, but desperation drove him further upward. He wanted distance, escape.

I followed, not giving him a breath. Each strike I forced him to block, his arms shaking more, his guard opening. His eyes darted toward the capital shrinking below.

"Stop chasing me!" he snarled, throwing another blast that scorched the clouds.

"Then stop running!" I laughed loudly and activated my movement technique arriving right above the man.

"Stay down."

I brought the sword down with both hands, channeling every ounce of Essence into the strike. The sky boomed. His body slammed toward the earth like a meteor.

The capital below lit up with panic as people looked skyward. Then he hit.

The impact ripped the ground apart. Stone shattered, buildings crumbled, and a shockwave blasted through the streets. People were blown back, screams carried through the dust.

I hovered above, breath steady, watching the crater smoke rise.

And then—his voice again.

"Hazel."

I froze. My brother's voice, cutting through the chaos, sharp and cold.

"I told you to control yourself."

The anger in it was worse than the noise below. My hands clenched around the sword. My eyes burned with anger too and I shot toward the crater.