My Talent's Name Is Generator - Chapter 243

Chapter 243: Meeting Attendance: 15 Present, 1… Unconfirmed
Steve sat cross-legged with his eyes closed, silently meditating. He looked calm, like he was trying to center himself after everything we’d been through.

I lay down under a nearby tree, letting my body relax against the soft grass. Silver stood silently on guard a few steps away, his presence comforting. I knew he would keep watch.

My body was still changing—growing stronger, adjusting to everything I had gained from the evolution. I could feel it deep in my bones, in the way my blood moved and my skin tingled. It felt like my very core was being rewritten piece by piece.

And I figured the best thing I could do now was let it settle. Rest. Recharge. Heal.

I turned my head slightly and looked toward Ana, still unconscious, her chest rising and falling steadily. I hoped she’d wake up soon. As soon as she was able to move, I planned to take both of them and head for the ruins.

Something inside me was screaming to hurry. A pressure I couldn’t explain had been building ever since I returned. I didn’t know why, but it felt like I was racing a clock I couldn’t see. Like there was a deadline fast approaching, and I had no idea what would happen when time ran out.

I sighed, shutting my eyes as the tension in my chest faded. For now, I had done what I could. I’d seen the corruption and scouted the mountains.

Tomorrow would bring more answers—or more trouble.

With that final thought, my breathing slowed, and the fatigue took over. My mind drifted, and before I knew it, I was asleep under the dark canopy of trees.

*****

[Edgar’s PoV]

I walked through the long, polished halls of the Royal Palace, dragging my feet like an old mule. My mood was horrible. The Emperor had called for an emergency meeting first thing in the morning, and I still wasn’t over my hangover from last night’s banquet.

“Treating me like a damn workhorse,” I muttered under my breath. “When will these people remember I’m an old man?”

I could’ve just flown up to the meeting chamber—it would’ve been quicker—but I always made it a point to walk whenever I was summoned for official duties. It was my way of reminding them all that I was past my prime and deserved better than this constant running around.

I let out a long sigh, my shoulders sagging even more. I already had a good idea what the meeting was about: the Holts, the Ferans, the world of Peanu, and worst of all…

My brow tightened as I remembered the message Billion had sent. A realm once belonging to the Nagas, now taken over by the Holts. Contractors were involved too, and far too many Holt members had entered that hidden realm.

I rubbed my forehead, the weight of it all pressing down like a headache that wouldn’t leave. The Empire was being pulled from all sides—threats from within and outside. Too many players were moving now, and the wrong step from any of us could throw everything into chaos.

The one thing everyone agreed on, though, was simple: the Holt family had to go.

They were the reason the Empire was under so much scrutiny, the reason unknown powers were turning their gaze toward our world.

Their ambition, their endless scheming, their willingness to sacrifice anything just to seize the throne—it had pushed even the Emperor to the edge.

For decades, we tolerated them. Balanced their influence. Watched them like a serpent coiled near our feet. But now, even if it meant weakening ourselves in the process, the Emperor had made the decision.

That cancer had to be cut out. For good.

Soon, I arrived at the entrance of the Royal Hall. Taking a deep breath, I pushed open the heavy doors and stepped inside.

A quick glance around told me everything—everyone was already here. As usual, I was the last to arrive.

My eyes swept across the room, quietly taking in the faces seated around the hall. The top firepower of the Empire. Every one of them a walking disaster in their own right.

Two of the highest-ranked Grandmasters from each of the East, North, and West continents were present—figures who held both unmatched power and supreme military authority in their respective regions.

Each sat in their designated seat, their presence alone commanding silence and respect.

The Central Continent was the heart of the Empire, and it had the most representation in the Royal Hall—six Grandmasters in total. One seat sat empty between them. That one belonged to me, the Grandmaster in charge of Foreign Affairs.

The others included powerful names—people like the Empire’s top military general, the Grandmaster of Internal Security, and those who oversaw other key departments. These six weren’t just strong; they held authority that shaped the entire continent.

Including the two Grandmasters from each of the East, West, and North continents, there were thirteen of us in total.

And then there were two more.

At the very center of the hall, seated high upon the blackstone throne, was the Emperor of Vaythos—Lucien Rayleigh. He looked the same as always: cold, calm, and regal. His gaze alone could silence a room.

Standing just behind him, two steps to the right, was Damian Rayleigh, commander of the Emperor’s personal guard. Not that the Emperor needed any guarding, but traditions ran deep in Vaythos. Damian had been at his side for as long as I could remember. He wasn’t just a bodyguard—he was a symbol of loyalty and power.

I stepped forward slowly, still feeling the weight of sleep and the dull ache of my hangover. My knees bent as I knelt before the Emperor.

“Rise,” he said, his voice quiet but firm—like a blade drawn slowly.

I stood and walked over to the empty seat waiting for me, settling into it with a tired exhale.

The hall felt heavier than usual. Wide and grand as it was, the space somehow felt tight—like the walls themselves were waiting for someone to speak. Everyone else in the room sat stiffly, their postures tense, their expressions grim. Only the Emperor looked relaxed.

Only I looked exhausted.

I looked toward the Emperor and noticed him tapping his finger lightly on the armrest of the throne. A slow, steady rhythm.

‘Is he waiting for someone?’ I wondered, narrowing my eyes.

A few moments later, the great door of the hall creaked open once again. But… no one entered.

That was all the confirmation I needed.

Dante.

He was here.

I straightened in my seat almost instinctively. My posture sharpened, my mind suddenly far more alert.

Arkas had been searching for this old man for weeks now, and I fully intended to be the one who brought him in. It was getting frustrating for me to hear Arkas rant about Dante each day.

“Rise.”

The Emperor’s voice echoed once more, calm and composed. But I couldn’t see anyone kneeling before him. No footsteps. No presence. Just… empty space.

It was almost funny.

Everyone in this hall, all thirteen of us—Grandmasters of the Empire—had, at some point, been asked the same question: “Have you ever seen Dante?”

Everyone always said yes. But when asked to describe him, the answers never matched.

Some claimed he looked like a middle-aged scholar. Others swore he was a young man with white hair. A few even said he had no face at all.

The truth?

None of us could say for sure.

But no one wanted to admit that they couldn’t see him. Not even to themselves. It was like admitting fear to a ghost—what if he was watching?

I pressed my lips together, fighting the urge to chuckle.

The great Dante had arrived, unseen and unknown, just like always.