My Talent's Name Is Generator Chapter 802 Destroyed Lineage

He came to a halt.

"I recall utterly slaughtering every one of you," he went on steadily. "How did you manage to live through it?"

I stared in bewilderment, struggling to grasp the meaning behind his words. Madness didn't cloud his gaze, nor did any hint of disorientation twist his tone to indicate delusion or uncertainty. He uttered his statement with total assurance, like he was recounting a long-resolved incident from the past.

"What are you getting at?" The words escaped my lips before I could hold them back.

"Exactly what I stated," he shot back without pause. "I wiped out your whole bloodline. How did you pull through? I detect the scent of your blood. You're part of the primary line, aren't you? Who's your father? And beyond that, what place is this?"

Annoyance crept across his features as he massaged his brow once more. His wings stirred at his back, their plumes whispering gently in the motionless atmosphere of the chamber.

Yet my attention had shifted away from his growing impatience.

It locked onto his earlier declaration.

My bloodline.

The term hung in my mind, laden with profound suggestions.

What on earth was he referring to?

I'd never laid eyes on him previously. His name had only surfaced in the broken visions from the tome. Still, he addressed me as if he'd faced my forebears in person and dispatched them himself.

'What's happening here?' The query reverberated inside my thoughts.

I compelled myself to stay composed, quelling the rising strain surging in my Essence. A rash response would yield no benefits. Gaining insight into him would.

"What do you recall from your last memory?" I inquired, keeping my tone even amid the whirlwind of inquiries brewing in my head. If he genuinely held those beliefs, his recollections could uncover the reality of his arrival.

He didn't respond right away.

His eyes drifted from mine, distant, as if delving into his inner self instead of the surroundings. His wings drooped a bit, the stiff poise softening while he shut his eyelids.

Several moments passed in silence.

Finally, he broke it.

"I was locked in combat," he murmured deliberately, his voice subdued and laced with doubt. "I held the upper hand, and then…"

His eyes squeezed tight in a fierce squint, and right then, his whole demeanor transformed. The serene control that had marked him shattered, giving way to an icy chill.

His aura burst forth. It swelled with commanding force, bearing down on the hall in quiet authority. His wings tensed behind him, though held in check.

"Then came the betrayal."

Those words emerged not in fury. They rang out with stark precision.

His stare honed in on me anew, examining me with fresh fervor, as if my existence now carried a wholly different significance based on his recalled events.

"You…" he uttered gradually. "Your existence defies logic."

"You're wrong," I countered smoothly. "We’re strangers to each other."

He regarded me at length, wordless. His crimson eyes stayed steady, unflinching as they probed my features, hunting for some trace of the known lurking there. At last, a soft chuckle escaped him, deep and stripped of mirth.

"I might not recognize you personally," he stated, "but the blood pulsing in your veins is familiar to me. That's sufficient reason to end you."

Slowly, he lifted his hand.

My senses heightened in an instant. Essence rushed along my pathways, steadying and primed. My laws roiled just below, poised to unleash. Every fiber of my being signaled that even his slightest motion might unleash unforeseen repercussions.

Yet no strike followed. He merely pointed his finger in my direction.

A dim golden light gathered at the end.

It appeared faint, nearly innocuous, but the second it materialized, an inner part of me stirred.

My blood froze.

Circulation in my vessels ceased entirely, locked as if time had stalled inside me. The feeling struck abruptly and bizarrely. My limbs stiffened on their own.

Next, the blood started to shine.

The golden radiance seeped into my veins, lighting them up from the inside. I watched it under my skin, slender streaks of brightness mapping over my arms, throat, and torso. The light grew brighter, heeding not my command, but his control.

Theras let out another chuckle.

On this occasion, the grin twisting his lips differed.

Savage.

Not chaotic, yet boundless, like he'd verified a long-anticipated discovery.

"Observe?" he whispered. "Just as I claimed."

His eyes stayed riveted on me, blazing with conviction.

"I can detect that blood from a distant world."

He dropped his hand.

The luminescence vanished at once.

My blood flowed again, reinstating the body's normal rhythm like the incident never occurred. Still, the intrusion echoed in my psyche, the intrusion irrefutable. He hadn't laid a hand on me. No Essence or law had been wielded in the usual manner. He'd only directed his finger, and my form had yielded to him.

"Tell me now," he pressed on, tone serene once more, "who's your father, young one… and what realm is this?"

That proved sufficient. More than enough to make even me embrace the truth I'd been denying.

He was aware of my heritage. He identified an element in my blood tying me to a history I hadn't fully grasped. The assurance in his words stemmed not from speculation. It arose from recollection.

I resolved to probe the depth of his memories, and the extent to which his assertions were rooted in fact over mere hunch.

"My father's name is Julius Ironhart," I revealed.

Theras cocked his head a fraction, his scarlet eyes tightening as he rummaged through his past. No swift response came, no spark of acknowledgment, just thoughtful scrutiny as he weighed the name against his lingering shards.

"Doesn't ring a bell," he admitted shortly. "Who's Julius's father?"

"No idea," I answered without delay.

His face grew stern.

"Explain yourself."

"I mean exactly that. I'm unaware of my grandfather."

It rang true. I'd never encountered him. Not even learned his name with confidence. In our kin, that branch of ancestry had remained unspoken, like a chapter everyone chose to bury. My grandmother stood as the sole senior whose influence had molded my early years.

Further vexation etched onto Theras's countenance.

His digits jerked faintly by his leg, his wings quivering with pent-up restlessness.

"And this location?" he demanded once more.

I shook my head deliberately.

"Unclear," I responded. "Appears to be some ancient remnant. That's the extent of my findings."

He blinked, his attention wandering from me as if verifying my claim via his own perception. Then he stretched his arm laterally, splaying his fingers into the void.

The chamber responded without delay.