My Talent's Name Is Generator Chapter 931 The Truth

He advanced deliberately, his gaze sweeping over every one of us, ensuring he commanded our undivided attention.

"The cosmos teems with countless universes," he declared, "an innumerable quantity, in truth… yet, only eleven possess genuine significance. Eleven universes," he reiterated, raising a single finger, "where beings ascend beyond the Saint rank… or whatever their respective systems deem equivalent."

A brief silence fell.

"And among these eleven…" his voice softened slightly, "…one reigns supreme above all others. That specific universe," Amun stated, his eyes fixing directly on mine, "is precisely why the Crimson Zone was brought into existence."

"All the known universes combined," he calmly elaborated, "would prove insufficient to contend with what originates from that realm."

"And that universe…" he resumed, a subtle smile gracing his lips, though it now lacked its prior playfulness, "…is known as—"

He ceased speaking.

"—well," he added with an air of nonchalance, "names hold little consequence at this juncture."

I narrowed my eyes; it was clear he was intentionally withholding information.

"But what truly matters," he continued, his tone regaining its steadiness, "is this…"

"The Crimson Zone you perceive… is not the origin point."

"It is merely a fissure," he stated. "A consequence. An overflow from a greater phenomenon."

"And what is this phenomenon?" I inquired, my gaze locked onto him, devoid of any further interest in evasive answers or veiled hints.

Amun did not respond immediately. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, as if contemplating the extent of information he wished to divulge, before exhaling softly.

"Uncertain," he finally replied, offering a minor shrug, though the gravity in his eyes betrayed the casualness of the gesture. "There exist… whispers."

I remained in silent expectation.

"Some propose it is an artifact," he continued, "an object of such immense power that its mere proximity begins to distort and reshape its surroundings."

He paused momentarily before adding, "Others surmise it is the very essence of that universe's core… something fundamental, something that was never meant to be exposed."

"And then," he said, a faint smile reappearing, this time tinged with a darker undertone, "there are those who assert it is neither of those."

I narrowed my eyes slightly. "Then what is it?"

He met my gaze directly.

"The mere aura," he declared softly, "of that universe's Monarch."

"Just… the aura," he elaborated, almost casually, as if he hadn't just presented a staggering revelation. "Not the Monarch himself. Not his full might. Simply what naturally emanates from his existence."

My response was delayed, for if even a sliver of his account held truth, then whatever resided at the source of this phenomenon operated beyond our comprehension of power. It existed on a different plane entirely, rendering everything we had previously encountered… insignificant.

Amun observed me for a moment before proceeding.

"The reason I share this with you," he stated, "is that a direct confrontation with the Crimson Zone is impossible for us. It expands… and it consumes. That is its sole function, and nothing within our capacity can truly halt its advance."

He drew a slow breath, then continued.

"Thus, eons ago, the most formidable beings across the cosmos convened. Not solely from one universe, but from all significant realms… and they journeyed to meet the Monarch."

A slight frown creased my brow. "They confronted it?"

Amun emitted a soft chuckle. "Confronted?" he inquired, shaking his head. "Nay… they initiated no confrontation. They arrived and pleaded."

"They sought leniency," he expounded. "They implored the Monarch to spare their universes from annihilation."

"And the outcome?" I pressed.

"So the legends tell," he said, raising a finger slightly, "the Monarch informed them… that he could not offer assistance. Whatever this entity may be, it is not entirely under his command, or perhaps the Monarch simply remains indifferent."

He paused briefly, then added, "However, they were granted something."

"An escape route?" I ventured.

"More than merely an escape route," he replied, that faint smile returning, "but an opportunity. A framework. A set of protocols."

He leaned forward slightly.

"Games."

My eyes narrowed. "Games? Why would such an entity concern itself with games?"

Amun offered a slight shrug. "Again… mere conjecture. Yet, the most prevalent theory suggests the Monarch derives pleasure from accumulating souls."

"Not just any souls," he elaborated, "but the souls of formidable individuals. Beings who engage in combat, endure hardship, achieve growth… and ultimately, succumb."

I frowned. "So, if one perishes within these games…"

"…their soul is forever bound there," he concluded calmly.

"If this Monarch is truly so mighty," I stated, my voice unwavering, "then why don't they simply obliterate everything and seize what they desire? What necessity is there for all this intricate maneuvering?"

Amun presented his hands in a slight gesture. "I possess no definitive knowledge on the matter," he confessed. "My presence was not recorded during those ancient epochs. What I understand are merely echoes… oral traditions, scattered insights gleaned from individuals who ventured too near forbidden knowledge."

He subtly adjusted his posture, redirecting his gaze back toward me.

"However, the crucial element is not the 'why,'" he declared. "It is the 'what.'"

I remained reticent.

"Direct confrontation with the origin point is beyond anyone's capacity," he elaborated. "Not yours, not mine, not an inhabitant within your known cosmos."

His volume decreased perceptibly.

"The sole viable path… involves engaging in those contests."

A brief interval of silence ensued.

"And that," he appended, lightly patting his chest, "is precisely where my involvement commences."

My eyes met his, foreseeing his imminent declaration.

"I am in possession of the entry pass," he proclaimed with a subtle, self-assured grin, "that facilitates your participation."

"And what benefits shall we accrue from these competitions?" I inquired.

"Entitlements and boons await you," Amun responded. "Though not of the conventional variety. You may articulate your deepest desires, and contingent upon your competitive achievements, they shall be fulfilled."

He paused momentarily, then casually remarked, "For instance, your Null Core… it was a prize I obtained from them following a commendable showing."

His eye twitched in a wink.

"That artifact is far from ordinary, Billion. It empowers the wielder to gather souls and forge them into one's essence. Such an acquisition was no happenstance."

He continued his discourse without preamble.

"Theras also took part in these games. Do you ascertain the nature of his triumph?"

My response was withheld.

"He negotiated an accord," Amun revealed. "Every soul that ceases to exist within the Prime Universe… is irrevocably his property."

"Impossible!" I exclaimed, reacting involuntarily.

Even North's awareness was piqued. "Does that not signify–"

Amun's countenance adopted a gravity-laden mien.

"Indeed, it does. And that very understanding illuminates the current state of phantoms and abominations. They are constructs fashioned from the departed essences of our kin… a consequence of a pact forged with the Crimson governing body."

He observed a brief silence before proceeding.

"The Eternals were never equipped to enact such a feat on a cosmic scale. But the Monarch…" a slight shake of his head accompanied his words, "…for them, this is child's play."

His gaze became intently fixed upon mine.

"Therefore, to illuminate your query, Billion… should your objective be the retrieval of your progenitors' souls, or the liberation of your universe from this pervasive blight…"

"…the solitary recourse available is to venture there, engage in those contests, and emerge victorious."

A subtle smile reappeared.

"Achieve sufficient eminence… to secure the right to forge your own covenant."