My Talent's Name Is Generator Chapter 905 The Gathering 2

***** [Azalea's PoV]

The hush after the projection hung thicker than earlier. This moment brought no doubt.

Instead, it sparked scheming.

I allowed it to linger briefly, letting them absorb the scene they'd witnessed, then pressed on.

"As you've observed," I stated evenly, "the Grade 4 rifts are already handled."

"What's left," I went on, "are the Grade 3 rifts."

Advancing a pace, I fixed my eyes firmly on the group.

"Our troops stand ready now. That allows them to assist you in sealing the leftover Grade 3 rifts in your domains. With each one shut, additional troops become available, ready to shift elsewhere."

I halted for a second.

"To wipe out every threat throughout the galaxy. It goes beyond merely sealing rifts," I emphasized. "It's about guaranteeing such crises never recur. After securing our galaxy, we'll seek aid and safeguards from the System to block rifts of this magnitude or rate."

My tone softened a touch.

"We end this… totally."

Factions started murmuring among their own ranks, assessing dangers, expenses, and results.

The discussions dragged on for several moments.

Finally, a voice broke through.

"And who," one delegate inquired, edging ahead a bit, "will command this whole effort?"

Such a query was inevitable.

"It demands teamwork on an unprecedented level," he pressed. "For a unified assault, links and orders need central control."

A short silence followed.

"Are the Nagas taking charge?"

I denied it with a shake.

"No."

My reply came swift.

Eyes sharpened in suspicion.

"Then who?" another demanded.

Without delay, I responded.

"This mission," I declared, "falls under the Order of Absolute's lead."

Shock rippled immediately. Whispers erupted in the chamber, more biting now, volume rising, restraint crumbling.

The Feran envoy stood up, face twisted in obvious scorn.

"The Order of Absolute?" he sneered. "They've been around for, what, mere days? And you want us obeying them in a galaxy-spanning campaign?"

He advanced a step.

"We refuse that."

Scarce had the statement landed when a voice sliced the air.

"Yeah… I figured as much."

It rang out from the doorway. All gazes snapped toward it.

The portals yawned wide, revealing Ragnar.

Positioned at the threshold, he loomed above the assembly. Bulkier than previously, his build had expanded further, approaching nine feet tall. Dressed in baggy shirt and trousers, his aura pulsed wild and pure, massive club gripped in one fist, its end planted solidly on the ground.

His head cocked faintly as he surveyed the space.

A chuckle escaped him.

Then he strode in.

"Like Lady Azalea stated," he announced, "we're heading this operation."

One more stride.

"All you gotta do… is agree and obey."

His stare roamed over the envoys.

"Got issues with it," he tacked on with a sly smile, "say so right now."

That's when it unleashed.

His aura burst forth. Pressure crashed across the hall, dense and crushing, compelling all to sense its might. The atmosphere grew taut while his form ignited in light.

Silver.

My eyes flew wide.

I wasn't alone; Xeron and Xena leaped up from their chairs at once.

"A… Saint?" Xeron uttered, shock lacing his words.

Awareness blazed through like flames.

The aura rang true. It matched Billion's and Lyrate's exactly.

Stunned silence gripped the hall.

"Ohh Ragnar… did you frighten the kids here? That's no way to shape our reputation."

The tone drifted in, teasing yet heavy, quelling every stray notion.

No glance needed; I knew that timbre.

Lyrate.

She glided past Ragnar from the rear, toes barely skimming the floor. None could overlook her. Gentle silver radiance cloaked her, though its force proved relentless. It swept the chamber, bearing down on all, making her power undeniable.

They'd reached Kaalseris ahead of the others.

Our strategy was straightforward: I'd manage the initial gathering, lay foundations, before the Order of Absolute entered.

Yet they'd chosen differently. Billion's silence irked me. Before deeper thought, lightning flared central in the room. In a flash, brilliance swallowed everything.

As it faded, Aurora and Ash appeared.

Both emitted a silver glow. The response came instantly. Instinct and shock propelled every person in the hall to their feet. Overwhelming pressure now dominated. The auras of the Upper Transcendents were utterly crushed, suppressed with no chance to resist. Only the Saints' presences endured, saturating the hall with a profound, inescapable authority.

My heart started pounding quicker.

'All of them… are Saints.'

The truth struck forcefully. I swiftly surveyed the hall.

Ragnar. Lyrate. Aurora. Ash.

Knight and Silver stayed out of sight, yet I harbored no doubts about them.

And then there was Billion. Seven Saints in one organization. A chilling idea flashed through my mind. If they chose to, they could seize Kaalseris immediately. Not merely Kaalseris. The whole Blue Spiral.

Nobody present could oppose them.

"Sometimes," Aurora said, snapping me from my reverie, her voice steady and faintly amused, "it is good to scare them a little."

Her gaze swept across the hall.

"Now," she went on, "I would like all of you to stand for the arrival of Lord Billion… who will preside over this meeting."

Her words resonated into every nook. No one dared challenge the command. Every representative, leader, and mighty figure there kept standing.

Even Xeron and Xena.

Footsteps then resounded in the hall. Each one reverberated, slicing the silence like it belonged to them. Lyrate, Aurora, Ragnar, and Ash darted forward at once, positioning themselves beneath the pedestal holding the throne.

Xeron, Xena, and I moved back, clearing the central area.

The footsteps persisted. Then halted. All eyes turned to the entrance.

And there he appeared.

Billion.

Clad in the black robes of the Order of Absolute, handsome as ever. No aura emanated from him, nor the silver glow his companions displayed.

He appeared ordinary. Like a man in his early twenties.

Yet that amplified the weight. He advanced leisurely. His green-violet eyes swept over everyone present. The sole noise was his footsteps echoing as he traversed the center, weaving past rows of world-ruling beings who stood mute before him.

My breathing grew shallower as he neared the pedestal. The throne loomed empty above it. It belonged to the Matriarch of the Nagas.

I held my breath.

Sitting there wouldn't merely be a choice. It would deliver a stinging insult to us. That act would proclaim war. A boundary breached beyond repair. I knew it would ignite conflict between him and our side.

He continued onward. The gap narrowed.

One step.

Then another.

And finally, he arrived at the pedestal.