My Talent's Name Is Generator Chapter 890 Closing The Rift

Knight, solely defending that whole battlefield stretch while protecting the cocoon, froze during the battle. Even someone like him, who seldom shows any reaction, looked shocked by the event that unfolded.

'Did you assist her?' he questioned via our mental connection, his voice laced with obvious doubt.

'No, Knight. I'm just as astonished as you,' I answered truthfully, eyes locked on her still.

Lyrate hovered over the fresh forest she'd formed, her silver radiance constant, red locks flowing behind as she gazed at her creation.

"How beautiful," she murmured gently, her tone brimming with serene fulfillment.

The woodland sprawled below, roots anchored into the void, branches still extending faintly like living things. That area was no longer a warzone.

Suddenly, she vanished in a flash. The moment after, she appeared directly before me.

"Would you like my aid in sealing this rift… Master?" she inquired, voice silky, smile holding a novel allure.

I gazed at her briefly. No question—it was Lyrate.

Yet, a shift in her was undeniable. The Lyrate I remembered never talked this way, never bore such playful teasing demeanor.

Her eyes stayed on mine, patient.

"Lyrate," I uttered deliberately, "I must confess… your evolution catches me off guard."

She gave a subtle smile, tucking away a hair strand casually.

"Nothing surprising here," she responded. "Witnessing your power made me realize what I needed to surpass that barrier. Once clear… it proved straightforward."

I exhaled lightly.

"Well then, congratulations," I offered. "You're the first of them to achieve it."

With that, I looked at the rest.

They observed and heard our exchange intently.

"Naturally," she remarked offhandedly. "That's to be expected. None match my talent."

That remark drew attention.

'Don't get cocky, Lyrate,' Aurora's voice shot back right away.

'Arrogant,' Ragnar grunted dismissively.

'Looking down on us?' Knight queried, voice steady yet pointed.

Lyrate ignored them entirely. She brushed off their comments like they were irrelevant, focus solely on me.

"So," she pressed, edging nearer, "Master… do you want my assistance?"

I met her eyes momentarily, then agreed.

"Sure, Lyrate," I replied. "This battlefield is under your command now."

I settled back onto my throne, handing full control to her.

Lyrate nodded with a slight grin, then faced the rift. Instantly, her form melted into crimson light streams and faded away, her potent aura lingering faintly.

Xeron released a deep sigh, stroking his chin pensively.

"Well… she's impressive," he noted. "Who'd imagine an elf becoming the next World Lord from the Blue Spiral Galaxy?"

I merely hummed, but my thoughts wandered. I reviewed the scene in my mind.

It stood evident now.

The flower.

That power of hers had absorbed vast life force in mere moments. She didn't merely borrow it for a boost. She seized it to propel past the pre-origin limit in a bold leap.

Similar to my own breakthrough. But hers differed. She didn't halt at body enhancement. She transcended fully. I sensed it plainly, not only in her aura but in her transformed laws—stable, unyielding unlike mine.

Above all, her domain. Upon reaching Saint rank, domains evolve. No mere zone of effect. They turn True Domains, enforcing lasting reality shifts. That's her feat. Those Eternals weren't slain.

Their very being got erased. Transmuted fully. The forest wasn't fake or fleeting. It was authentic. Her domain's decree on existence made real.

A faint smile crossed my lips. If she attained this… the rest could too. I scanned my summons, each in turn. Fresh spark in their gazes now. Determination absent before. They witnessed potential.

All but Ash. He stayed unchanged, silent sentinel as if unaffected.

Opposite, Aurora reacted strongest.

Her battlefield zone became a lightning maelstrom. Void tinted blue by her might, countless strikes crashing nonstop, roar shredding all in range.

She fought no more. She unleashed fury, seething with rage.

My senses pinpointed Lyrate at once, tracing her as she rematerialized by the rift, beyond main clashes. She floated solitary before the space gash, black crystal spikes still lodged, propping it wide.

She studied them briefly.

Silver glow held firm around her, crimson wisps orbiting like an extra veil.

Then her hand lifted.

"World Root: Sovereign Bloom."

Her words soft. Impact immense. From rift's base, forms arose. Initially slim red light threads, faint amid void turmoil. Swiftly thickening, coiling skyward. Soon roots—huge, vital, blending crimson silver.

Growth explosive, not gradual.

Roots tore space, fanning out and up, ensnaring spikes with fierce velocity. Each coiled firm, burrowing into crystals, not gripping—infesting.

Spikes quaked. Surfaces fractured as roots delved, veining through.

Lyrate clenched her fist; roots squeezed. Then flowered. Where pierced, giant blooms exploded, rending spikes internally. Crimson petals flared over each, crumbling stability.

Spikes fragmented, devoured. Cores imploded as roots and flowers consumed, shards evaporating.

Rift quivered. Anchorless, vast wound buckled, borders contracting as space mended.

Yet System intervened.

Across tear, giant runes materialized. Colossal ancient glyphs etched into space weave, encircling fully. Each throbbed, securing as trigger fulfilled.

Rift shook. Gash inverted, gradual then rapid, folding beneath System force. Chaotic energies faded, warped space leveled till gone.

Quiet ensued.

Where rift loomed, void empty.