My Talent's Name Is Generator

Slowly, I walked through the wreckage, bodies broken, ground torn apart, the air thick with the smell of blood and burnt flesh.

Each step echoed across the ruined battlefield. The only ones left were the weaker Masters, those who had remained at the back while the stronger ones rushed ahead.

Now, they stood frozen. Or knelt. Some still gripped their weapons, hands trembling. Others had already dropped them in surrender, their faces pale with fear, their eyes hollow.

I swept my gaze across them. For a brief second, I considered sparing them.

But the thought passed.

With a deep breath, I let Essence rush through me again. Crimson wings burst out from my back, heat crackling through their veins. I flapped them once, just once and the world blurred beneath me.

In the next instant, I hovered high above the remaining crowd. Their heads tilted upward, slowly, hesitantly. Some dropped to their knees, others stared in stunned silence. The fight had already left them.

"Silver," I called.

He let out a sharp cry and shot through the clouds, a silver blur cutting through the green sky. With a soft thump, I landed on his back, balancing easily as the wind whipped around me.

I crouched low and whispered into the wind.

"Let’s finish this."

He understood.