My Talent's Name Is Generator Chapter 976 Prison Break

After our eyes met for a moment, my next question turned from his escape to his subsequent growth.

"And what path did you take?" I inquired, my arms resting loosely on my knees. "It's clear you didn't simply power through everything."

He offered a slight nod, his expression becoming more focused.

"Shade Path," he stated. "It suited me better than any other option presented. The entire philosophy revolves around being unseen by the enemy, striking before they even realize you exist, and vanishing before any reaction is possible. As you know, it aligns perfectly with my nature."

I acknowledged this with a slow nod, already comprehending how it connected with his earlier descriptions.

"And your class?" I prompted.

"It evolved into something… unique," he responded. "Not a standard progression like an Assassin. The system assigned me a special class directly linked to my talent."

He shifted slightly, leaning forward a bit.

"Void Phantasm," he revealed.

My eyebrows lifted slightly.

"Sounds rather… elaborate."

"It is," he confirmed, a faint grin reappearing. "But it's more than just a name. The class essentially transforms my Phasing ability from a mere escape tool into an offensive and positional weapon. Instead of using it solely to evade damage, I can now phase through space in short bursts, enabling mid-combat repositioning and attacks from improbable angles. My skills themselves can also achieve this."

"When I phase," he elaborated, "I become not just intangible, but capable of choosing the precise moment to re-engage. This allows me to pass through an opponent's guard, reappear within their immediate reach, and strike before they can even adjust their stance. It effectively negates the concept of distance in close-quarters combat. Provided I time it correctly, I dictate the terms of the engagement."

"That's…" I paused briefly, then nodded in agreement. "Yeah. That sounds incredibly potent."

He let out a soft chuckle.

"It's even more so," he added. "The class also heightens my perception while phasing. Time doesn't exactly slow down, but my mental processing speeds up significantly. I can analyze movements, anticipate reactions, and pinpoint the exact instant to rematerialize. This transforms every encounter into a deliberate setup rather than a chaotic melee."

I leaned back slightly, contemplating his words.

"So you avoid direct confrontation entirely."

"Only when absolutely necessary," he affirmed. "Most of the time, I'm already positioned behind them before they even register my movement. And once I land a strike, I withdraw immediately, leaving no opening for a counter-attack."

My gaze flickered to his current state, then back to him.

"And yet… you find yourself in this predicament."

His grin faltered slightly.

"Indeed," he conceded. "That's the inherent challenge with abilities like mine. They excel against individuals or even small groups. However, when confronted with coordinated forces employing area control, detection measures, and layered assaults… the opportunities for exploitation diminish rapidly."

I nodded in understanding.

"They cornered you into a scenario where your primary advantage became irrelevant."

"Precisely," he agreed. "Too many attack vectors. Too many variables. And once they began anticipating my phasing patterns…" he exhaled slowly, "…the situation shifted beyond my control."

"…Good," I stated.

He blinked, seemingly taken aback.

"Good?" he echoed.

I offered a slight nod, a subtle smile gracing my lips.

"It means that once we escape this place," I declared, "we can complement each other's shortcomings."

He observed me for a moment before a quiet chuckle escaped him.

"I presume you favored the direct approach… a Destroyer, perhaps?" he ventured.

I confirmed this without hesitation.

"Yes. That's my preferred style," I replied, a faint grin appearing. I then leaned forward slightly, my voice gaining intensity. "So… are you ready to get out of here?"

"Yes," he affirmed. "Let's head to my safe zone first."

I immediately shook my head.

"Why would we do that?" I questioned. "No. We're going to ascend and eliminate these cultists."

His eyes narrowed slightly at my declaration.

"Did you not observe their leader is at level ninety-nine?" he inquired.

"I did," I responded calmly. "And I believe I can take him by surprise and finish him. After that, we'll either deal with the remaining opposition or retreat, depending on the circumstances. But I don't wish to waste any time. We need to gain levels rapidly and advance. Lyrate should be arriving soon, and she mentioned having a strategy for this world already."

Knight held my gaze for another moment, his expression briefly tightening before relaxing once more.

"…Very well," he finally agreed. "If you are confident, we shall proceed according to your plan."

He rose to his feet and approached me, then crouched down nearby. His hand reached out and grasped the chain encircling my wrist.

For a fleeting instant, stillness held the air.

Then, his palm… vanished, as if it had detached itself from reality. The section of the chain it gripped disappeared with it, leaving a vacant space where solid metal had been mere moments prior.

A second later, his hand reappeared.

The chain did not.

The remaining segment tumbled to the ground with a muted metallic thud. I glanced down at it, then shifted my gaze back to him, emitting a soft whistle.

"Wow… just like that."

He offered a faint smirk.

"Yeah," he confirmed. "Just like that."

Then, he advanced, placing his hand upon the cell door's lock, his fingers encircling the metal as if gauging it for a moment. The very next instant, his palm dematerialized once more, phasing effortlessly through the mechanism. When it reappeared, the lock yielded with a quiet snap, crumbling apart with no resistance.

"Damn… that's far too convenient," I grumbled, shaking my head as I stepped out and proceeded to follow him.

Knight did not retrace the path I had been brought in by. Instead, he moved in the opposing direction, maintaining a steady pace, as if he possessed precise knowledge of their destination. He halted before another cell, rested his hand on its lock, and shattered it with equal ease, exhaling a soft, almost irritated sigh.

"They've repaired it," he murmured to himself.

He entered the cell and proceeded directly to the rear wall, pressing both palms against a particular section of stone. For a brief period, nothing occurred, but then he exerted pressure, and the bricks vibrated subtly before loosening and disintegrating inward.

A tunnel lay beyond. Rudely excavated, it was narrow, offering just enough clearance for passage.

He stepped aside and regarded me.

"Let's go," he stated. "This passage connects to another lift. It’s disused, no longer operational. From there, we can ascend to the upper levels and gain our freedom."

He did not await my reply and climbed into the opening. I followed without the slightest hesitation.

From that point, it took a considerable duration. We crawled through the confined tunnel as it extended horizontally before angling sharply upward. The restricted space necessitated slow, deliberate movements as we ascended the defunct lift shaft. Dust permeated the atmosphere, and the metal framework emitted faint creaks as we hauled ourselves higher. Finally, we reached an aperture and slipped out into what appeared to be a storage chamber.

Sacks of grain were piled haphazardly along the walls, and wooden crates brimming with preserved provisions lined the corners. The faint aroma of aged food lingered in the air.

Knight emerged beside me, dusting his hands before executing a swift survey of the surroundings.

"What now?" he inquired.

"Can you escort me to their commander without being detected?" I posed the question.

Knight offered no immediate response. His gaze flickered toward the exit, then returned to me, as if contemplating the distance, the layout, and the inherent risks. For several seconds, he remained quiet, mentally sifting through potential strategies.

Then, he gave a slight nod.

"I can."