My Talent's Name Is Generator Chapter 4 4: Vaythos, the Rayleigh Royal Family, and Other Headaches

Steve and I strolled down the pavement heading to his house, my thoughts entirely fixed on the elite squads.

I was determined to join one.

Getting selected for an elite squad, excelling through the trial phase, and above all, surviving it would open a straight path to enlist in the Empire's elite special forces.

I was certain I'd secure a position in one of those elite squads. Over the last four years, I'd poured everything into my training, breaking every single record at the academy along the way.

If I couldn't get into an elite squad, nobody had a chance.

The real puzzle was figuring out which squad.

A total of one hundred elite squads existed, each packed with a hundred fresh graduates, ordered from Elite Unit 01 up to Elite Unit 100. Naturally, I aimed for the top. Elite Unit 01, the gathering place for the empire's mightiest graduates.

Steve's words snapped me back from my daydreams.

"What do you reckon our odds are of landing in the same squad?"

I stretched out a bit prior to replying.

"Quite good. They usually try to group folks with close ties. And since I took first place while you grabbed fourth, we'd make a strong pair."

Steve gave a nod.

"You know, my mom mentioned that the top ten from our academy often snag spots in one of the top five elite squads."

That piqued my interest.

I faced him.

"And what about Elite Unit 01?"

Steve let out a sigh.

"That's gonna be rough. You know the drill—most slots go to folks from the capital."

I flung my arms up in frustration.

I despised those capital spoiled brats.

Throughout my academy days, I'd crossed paths with loads of them in sports, drills, or contests. And believe me, they were total jerks. Their smugness hit you from a distance. Simply because they hailed from the capital, they strutted around like superiors to all.

Granted, the capital drew in the empire's strongest talents from everywhere. But what justified these youngsters strutting so proudly when they hadn't earned a thing themselves?

Steve shrugged his shoulders.

"Beyond the capital, our city Astra—wait, no, Cairo—ranks as one of the empire's largest. Avenue Academy sits at fifth or sixth in the rankings. So, Elite Unit 01 might slip away, but we've got solid prospects for 02 or 03."

He made sense. Cairo stood among our world's key metropolitan areas.

I pondered the crisis gripping our world.

Our planet, Vaythos, fell under the sole rule of one royal lineage—the House of Rayleigh. Thanks to them, our realm carried the name Rayleigh Empire.

In this place, awakening marked more than a personal event; it was a mandatory duty.

The instant you awakened, service became inevitable.

Your assignment to the army or some other armed service hinged on how you fared in the trial period.

The whole empire operated in full wartime readiness, craving every new recruit it could muster.

Yet, three centuries back, our world didn't face such peril. Awakenings happened unpredictably during everyday routines, with some folks not stirring until their thirties or forties. Life flowed freely for them. No empire existed in those days.

Rather, our world split into numerous kingdoms and alliances, each controlling their slices of land.

But then, a drastic shift occurred.

Our cosmos faced assault from another cosmos—a hostile incursion driven by an ancient species dubbing themselves the Eternals. They aimed to seize and dominate whole planets, asserting control over the stars.

Innumerable realms in our cosmos vanished into the conflict.

Initially, our world dodged the fray. We stayed off the main battle zones, remaining unscathed for a spell.

That shifted when a superior world spotted us. They handed down advanced tech and issued a harsh deadline: fifty years to gear up for combat. Beyond that, we'd be forced onto the front lines.

That sparked the Throne War. Rather than banding together, the kingdoms and alliances clashed viciously for supremacy. Each leader vied for control, chasing the biggest gains from the advanced realms.

Following millions slain and boundless ruin, a single group rose supreme—the Rayleigh lineage. Their victory birthed the Rayleigh Empire, and for the ensuing two centuries, they've held sway over our world.

The initial century proved a sheer horror. We served as mere fodder, hurled into the slaughter by the dominant worlds. We suffered millions lost.

However, the conflict abruptly ceased. No further clashes erupted on the fronts, no additional troops perished. As folks started to unwind, assuming the nightmare ended, the Eternals released the Phantoms.

All the casualties throughout our cosmos in that first century of strife hadn't gone to waste—at least not for the Eternals. They'd reaped every departed spirit, crafting them into animated, soulless shells driven by one goal: slaughter and devastation.

Next arrived the Abominations—creatures warped and tainted by the uneasy essences of the deceased. They surged in ceaseless waves, their hideous shapes blending body and ghost, sowing turmoil across all realms.

Front lines vanished. Every planet turned into a warzone.

Over the last century, our cosmos has waged an unceasing fight against the Phantoms and Abominations. Yet, it's a doomed fight. Each fallen warrior merely bolsters their ranks. The harder we battle, the more we nourish the foe.

***

At last, we arrived at Steve's residence. He opened the lock, and we entered together. He dwelled solo right now, with both parents serving in the military.

We made for the lounge directly and crashed onto the sofa.

I eyed him, a sly smile creeping across my face.

"Well?"

He gave me a puzzled blink and echoed.

"Well?"

I cleared my throat and bent closer.

"How'd your awakening turn out? Did you get a talent?"

"Talent? Nah, nothing like that," he replied.

Suddenly, his gaze expanded. He gawked at me briefly before exclaiming.

"Wait—did you actually awaken a talent?"

I beamed.

"Yeah, I sure did."

He blinked repeatedly, inhaled deeply, then pounced at me. I just managed to evade, hopping from the sofa and tumbling to the ground.

"Whoa! What's that about?" I yelled.

He clambered across the sofa, barreling right at me.

"This is ridiculous! Out of everyone, why you?"

I raced to the kitchen, snatching a chair to block between us.

"What do you mean 'why me'? You implying I don't merit a talent?"

Steve prowled around the chair, his stare fixed on me like a hunter's.

"That's precisely what I mean! From all folks out there, it lands on you? The one already outshining us in every field?"

I smirked.

"Smells like envy to me."

"Envy? I'm beyond that," he snarled, abruptly shoving the chair away and springing forward.

I chuckled and weaved around the kitchen counter.

"Come on, Steve, don't pretend this alters a thing! You couldn't keep pace with me even sans a talent."

"You—!" He snatched an apple off the surface and chucked it my way.

I dropped low in the nick of time. The apple smacked the wall with a muffled bang.

I burst into laughter.

"Wide miss!"

He seized the kitchen blade.

"Freeze and see if I miss next time!"

I dashed back to the lounge, vaulting over the sofa.

"Pass! I'm not letting my best pal off me just for some good fortune."

He pursued.

"Fortune? You were already ace at everything, and now a talent on top?"

"Life's like that, pal," I ribbed, swerving aside.

He groaned, slumping finally onto the sofa, out of breath.

"Alright. Fine. I give up."

I grinned, perching on the arm.

He swiveled to me with his usual laid-back look and inquired,

"So… what talent did you awaken?"

I savored the suspense a second before revealing.

"My talent's called Generator."