My Talent's Name Is Generator Chapter 937 Objective: Save the World

"Mohr… why?" I questioned, my expression hardening deliberately, even as my thoughts raced ahead.

From the information I had obtained, the prince, Ryan, had perished the instant that blow connected, and I had seamlessly assumed his identity immediately afterward. The changeover was smooth, perhaps too smooth, which hinted at the sophistication level operated by the crimson zone.

Moreover, there was absolutely no margin for error in this situation. Survival depended entirely on my ability to embody this role convincingly.

Mohr's initial surprise rapidly evaporated, replaced by a surge of fury. His grip on the sword tightened as he advanced a step.

"Why?" he echoed, his voice escalating. "You still possess the audacity to inquire why?"

His gaze blazed with an emotion that transcended mere animosity.

"Because you Defiers have plunged this world into desolation," he declared. "Had you only embraced the gods and demonstrated even a sliver of reverence, none of this devastation would have transpired. This bloodshed, this utter ruin—it is all a consequence of your actions."

I blinked, not due to his words, but because of the profound conviction behind them. He spoke without a trace of doubt. The sheer intensity radiating from him made it seem as though I had personally been responsible for the demise of his loved ones. While the prince might have been, I had no recollection of such events.

However, one point was undeniable. He addressed me as a Defier, and I inferred this referred to individuals who rejected their gods or similar beliefs. In both the Blue Spiral and the Prime Universe, such a phenomenon was unheard of. Power was certainly present, and those at the pinnacle commanded respect, sometimes even a form of reverence, but never deification. They were revered as heroes, as entities of great might, but not as divine beings.

To maintain the dialogue, I opted to play along.

"Believe in the gods?" I retorted, letting a hint of sarcasm creep into my voice. "What reason do I have to do so? What is there to believe in?"

Even as I spoke, my consciousness turned inward.

'System?' I probed internally.

Yet, no response came.

A subtle frown creased my brow as I systematically examined everything, a ingrained habit. The Null Core was absent. The Dawn Core was nowhere to be found. There was no status or talent interface. Even the familiar flow of essence or laws, which I could always perceive regardless of the circumstances, was entirely missing. I released a slow breath.

'So… it’s a complete reset,' I concluded.

"Ahhh… why can’t you simply believe?" Mohr growled, his patience fracturing under the weight of his frustration. "It makes no difference that the orb failed," he added, his tone chilling as he tossed the white crystal to the ground, where it chipped slightly upon striking the stone. "I shall dispatch you myself."

He raised his sword, aiming it directly at me, his lethal intent unmistakable.

Before I could react, the Baron intervened, positioning himself between us.

"Grace, take the horses and depart with the prince," he commanded sharply, without looking back. "He is wounded. Proceed directly to Kano. Our forces are stationed there."

His grip on his sword tightened as he adopted a defensive posture.

"Let’s see if these believers dare to pursue you there."

Mohr erupted into a booming laugh, the sound reverberating across the battlefield as he widened his stance slightly.

"You believe we will permit his escape?" he taunted. "Not a single soul from your contingent will depart this place alive."

At his unspoken command, the fighters clad in black moved with immediate precision, fanning out and constricting the perimeter around us, sealing off any potential avenues of escape.

I took a swift survey of our surroundings, assessing our meager resources. Including myself, Grace, and the Baron, only three others remained on our side, standing firm. They moved without hesitation, solidifying our formation and placing me at the core while they presented a united front to the enemy.

It became evident that escape was impossible without engaging in combat. Turning my head, I met the gaze of Grace, who stood beside me. She was close, her sword held resolutely, her stance unwavering amidst the chaos. It was then I observed the stark disparity more clearly. All on our side were armed with swords, and nothing more. Our adversaries, conversely, were clad in weathered yet functional armor. We, in contrast, wore simple attire, entirely unprepared for such a confrontation.

Thus, this was undeniably an ambush.

'Very well… combat it is,' I resolved.

Without further delay, I stripped off my shirt, overriding the protest from my body. The movement sent a searing pain through my flank. Gazing down, I perceived the wound clearly—a deep gash from which blood had already saturated the fabric. Gritting my teeth, I pressed the cloth firmly against the injury, exerting pressure to stanch the flow before wrapping it securely around my torso, pulling it across my side and knotting it as tightly as possible.

I exhaled slowly, regaining my upright posture.

'It has to be enough.' This thought crossed my mind as I turned my attention to Grace.

"Grace, hand me that sword," I instructed, gesturing towards the sheathed blade resting near her.

A flicker of hesitation crossed her face, as if she intended to object, her lips parting briefly before she decided against it. Whatever she had been about to voice, she kept to herself.

"Yes, Your Highness," she replied softly.

She stooped, retrieved the sword, and presented it to me. Without pause, I accepted it, drawing the steel in a single, fluid motion; the blade emerged with a faint whisper. The sword was now in my right hand, the sheath in my left, as I shifted my grip, assessing its weight.

"Stand clear," I commanded.

Baron and the others surrounding me tensed at my words, none immediately moving aside.

"That is an order," I added, my tone leaving no room for argument.

Baron let out a sharp breath through his nose before stepping to the side, the others following suit, creating just enough space for me to exit the tight circle they had formed around me.

I advanced, disregarding the throbbing pain in my side, and allowed my gaze to rest on Mohr for a fleeting moment before speaking once more.

"I am wounded," I stated. "Therefore, Mohr is your responsibility."

Baron regarded me, his skepticism evident.

Tilting my head slightly, I met his eyes directly, holding his gaze long enough to convey that this was not a matter for discussion. He tightened his jaw, then offered a curt nod.

"Ooh, so the prince decides to make a last stand. Your father would undoubtedly be proud," Mohr taunted, his knuckles whitening around his sword hilt as he observed my forward movement.

"We shall soon see whose stand proves to be the last," I retorted, my eyes remaining fixed on him.

I had taken barely a step when a piercing ringing sound struck my head abruptly, slicing through all other sensation like a sharp blade. My body reacted instinctively, a low groan escaping my lips as I faltered slightly, the world momentarily losing its focus.

Yet, I was not the sole recipient of this assault.

The individuals beside me did more than just react; they crumpled.

Swords clattered from their grasp as they were forced to their knees, some cradling their heads, others struggling to remain upright as the sound seemed to bore into their very beings.

"What… is happening?" Baron's voice, strained and choked, reached my ears as he gripped his head with both hands.

The ringing only grew more intense, escalating to a point where it felt as though something was being ripped apart within my mind. I gritted my teeth, compelling myself to remain standing even as a warmth spread down the side of my face. Crimson trickled from my ears, each pulse of the sound rendering clear thought increasingly difficult.

The phenomenon persisted for several seconds before ceasing as abruptly as it had begun.

The ensuing silence felt profoundly unnatural.

Before I could fully comprehend everything, a distinct chime resonated within my head, entirely separate from any external stimulus, and a cerulean interface materialized before my eyes.

[World Orien - Initialization complete]

[Conflict protocol initiated]

[Objective: Save the World]