My Talent's Name Is Generator

Not a thick, heavy one but lean, fast, and lethal. Each link forged from fire and lightning fused together, pulsing with energy. I added space not a full tear, but a tension. A slight ripple in every link, so it could stretch and snap instantly between targets.

One link formed.

A glowing ring, not more than the size of my palm, burning red at the core and sparking around the edges. The lightning arced across the fire like veins of light, and when I tugged on it mentally, the ring jumped forward slightly, as if the space around it bent.

Good.

Another formed. Then another. Link by link, the chain grew, curling in the air in front of me like a serpent of glowing rings.

I gritted my teeth as the tension built. The fire screamed to erupt. The lightning threatened to snap in all directions. The spatial threads inside each link vibrated, unstable.

But I held it all.

With [Psynapse Fracture] still active, I used the three fractures to focus on each law separately—fire to burn, lightning to pierce, and space to bind them together.

The chain coiled fully now, ten meters long. Each one dense, and deadly. It floated in the air like a whip of molten gold and electric blue. I could feel its weight. Not physical, but in Essence. It was fast. Hungry. Ready.

Below, a new wave of Holt soldiers was moving in, trying to re-form their lines. Skill circles lit up across the ground. A dozen projectiles locked onto my position.

I could feel it now, every gaze, every weapon, every intention locked onto me as I hovered above with my wings unfurled. Thousands of Holt soldiers below, some trembling, some shouting orders, others already preparing their skills. They all looked up. They all saw me.

And I let them.