My Talent's Name Is Generator - Chapter 155

Chapter 155: A Little Night of Violence

I stepped back, and Steve finally released his grip on King. His body crumpled to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut, coughing and groaning.

I turned my head slowly, eyes scanning the crowd. Their expressions were scattered, shock, discomfort, confusion.

But I also caught clenched jaws, narrowed eyes—some people knew. They knew what the Holt family stood for. And those people didn’t look angry at me. They looked like they wanted to throw a few punches themselves.

Still, a few others glanced at me like I’d gone too far.

I didn’t care.

I stretched my perception wide, just to be sure. My senses combed the area and I sighed in relief when I confirmed North wasn’t nearby. I didn’t want her to see this part of me.

I met Steve’s eyes and gave a small nod. He nodded back.

Without another word, I grabbed King by the collar and hoisted him up like a sack of grain. His body slumped over my shoulder, too dazed to struggle. Steve yanked Michael up the same way and turned to the crowd.

“Do not follow us,” he said, calm but cold.

Then we slipped into the night.

We reached a secluded patch in the woods just beyond the edge of the training zone. The trees here were tall, the shadows deep.

Steve dropped Michael unceremoniously against a tree trunk while I slammed King to the ground with a thud. He groaned, still dizzy from the earlier beating.

I pulled out a set of training cords and tied King’s wrists around the tree trunk behind him. Steve did the same with Michael. Both were seated with their backs pressed to the rough bark, bound tight, ankles secured to the roots.

Michael whimpered, still struggling to breathe. King, though, he was furious.

“You bastards think this is funny?!” he spat. “You have no idea what you’re doing! I’ll give you more than just death, I swear on my name—”

I punched him before he could finish. A hard jab to the ribs. He let out a breathless cry, followed by more swearing.

“What is the Holt family planning?” I asked flatly, pretending to care. “Come on. Spill something useful.”

He glared at me. “Go to hell.”

I smiled and punched him in the stomach again. Steve took his turn, slapping Michael’s face lightly at first, then a hard backhand.

“Still nothing?” Steve said with mock surprise. “Wow. These guys are tight-lipped. Makes you wonder what they’re hiding.”

Michael whined something unintelligible.

King bared his teeth.

“When my family hears about this, they’ll erase your bloodlines. You’ll wish you died on the battlefield.”

Another punch. I went for the jaw this time. His head snapped sideways.

“You know,” I said, crouching down to his level, “it almost sounds like you’re about to cry.”

He spat blood at my feet. “You’re dead. You’re already dead. I’m going to make sure your—”

Another hit. Steve chuckled.

We weren’t here for answers. Not really.

We just wanted to piss this guy off. That was the whole point.

For the next half hour, I kept beating him, nothing elegant, nothing restrained. Just fists to his face, gut, ribs, anywhere that would hurt. I wasn’t even angry anymore. Just focused. Mechanical. I only stopped when his body slumped and he passed out.

Exhaling heavily, I dropped onto the cold ground and leaned back against the tree. I looked over at Michael. He was already out cold, face swollen, tied to a tree a few feet from King.

Steve stood nearby, wiping the blood off his hands with a cloth he’d ripped from Michael’s uniform.

I shook my head and muttered, “It’s way better fighting abominations than doing this crap.”

Steve gave a short nod, his expression unreadable. “At least abominations fight back. These two? Way too soft. No challenge.”

He sat down beside me, and for a while, we just sat there in silence, letting our hearts slow and our thoughts settle.

Eventually, I stood and walked over to King.

His eyelids fluttered. I grabbed a bottle of water, splashed it on his face, then gave him a light slap across the cheek.

“Wake up, your highness.”

His eyes shot open, groggy and bloodshot. I crouched in front of him, elbows on my knees, and smiled.

“Let’s play a game, King. You tell me something useful, and I don’t break another rib.”

He growled, spit blood to the side, and glared at me.

“You think this changes anything? I’ll kill you myself. My family will skin you alive.”

I chuckled.

“You keep saying that. But I’m the one standing. You’re the one tied to a tree.”

I leaned in close, my tone more serious now.

“What is your family really planning? Why are the Holts acting against the Empire? Why are you so fixated on the Throne War? Why can’t you just get along with the Rayleigh family?”

His mouth twitched, either from pain or rage, I couldn’t tell.

I kept going.

“Who’s this Phantom that wiped out Unit 77? Don’t play dumb. You knew something. I saw your face when Arkas announced it.”

I was just spewing nonsense at this point.

He started cursing again, wild threats pouring from his mouth, promises of death, dismemberment, disgrace.

Steve laughed behind me. “He’s running out of curse words.”

I stood up and stretched. “Fine. If you don’t want to talk, we’ll keep playing.”

I walked over, picked up my staff, and twirled it in my hand.

“I’ve got time. You’ve got bones. Let’s see which lasts longer.”

*****

We kept up our little “friendly” banter with King and Michael for another three or four hours, deep into the night.

It wasn’t really about questions anymore, we were just messing with them, throwing in a few insults, tossing a punch here and there, keeping the pressure on until their pride bled out.

Finally, when we both felt like we had done enough, we stood up and untied them. We didn’t say anything. Just left them there, bruised and broken, lying against the tree like discarded trash.

Then we turned and sprinted back toward the residential block, sticking to the shadows and keeping low. The night air was cool against my skin. I felt… clearer, somehow.

While we were running, I glanced over at Steve and asked, “Arkas said we’ve got three days, right? What do you plan to do next?”

He didn’t miss a step as he replied, “I’m going to level up as much as I can. There’s this one skill I’ve been working on, I think I’m close to unlocking it. That’ll be my focus.”

I nodded. “Makes sense.”

Then he looked over at me. “What about you?”

I shrugged. “I’ve got some ideas. Not sure if I’ll go through with all of them, but I think I’ll spend most of my time refining the stuff I already know. Clean it up. Make it sharper.”

We didn’t say much after that.

My thoughts drifted to the Null Heart.

That thing was still untested. I had been considering whether I should push myself to at least create one soul shackle, just one. Who knew? It might come in handy for the new mission.

I hadn’t told anyone about it yet, and I didn’t plan to.

Not unless I had to. But part of me wondered how the new function would actually take shape.

Would I even be able to hide it once it activated? From the way it felt, the power buried inside that thing wasn’t small.

I just hoped it would be something that will become a trump card.