My Talent's Name Is Generator

We were back inside the Emperor's private study. The soft hiss of the tea kettle filled the silence between us, steam curling in the lamplight. He poured without asking, sliding the delicate cup toward me.

We sat like that for a while, sipping. No talk of strategy, no speeches about destiny, just the faint clink of the cups and the warmth of the drink in my hands.

The knock on the door broke the stillness.

"Enter," the Emperor said.

Cassian Dorey stepped in. The General of the entire Imperial Army didn't need an introduction, not to me. We'd fought side by side with the Holts in the capital. I'd seen him tear through a dozen enemies with movements so heavy and precise they felt like watching an avalanche in motion.

The man looked the same as ever, old, yes, but in the way a mountain was old. Built from the ground up, all muscle under his uniform, his presence pressing into the room like extra gravity.

"Your Majesty," he said with a short nod before glancing at me. "Ironhart."

"General Cassian," I greeted, leaning back slightly.

A small smirk tugged at his mouth as he took the seat opposite me. The Emperor poured him tea without a word. Cassian lifted the cup, drank, and sighed like the warmth reached all the way into his bones.

"Progress?" the Emperor asked.

Cassian set the cup down and rested his massive forearms on the table.

"Quiet, for now. Our mobilization is under the cover of routine exercises. The public thinks we're just rotating regiments. By the time the Peanu realize what's happening, we'll have half the army in position."

"Good," the Emperor said.

I listened as they talked, details about troop movement, supply lines disguised as humanitarian shipments, the timing of the first strike. It wasn't idle chatter. Every word was planned and measured.

When the tea was gone, Cassian stood. "We should go. Time is wasting."

I rose too, bowing my head to the Emperor. "Until next time."

The walk through the palace halls was silent at first, the marble floors gleaming under the high lights. Cassian's boots were heavy, every step a reminder of the man's sheer presence. When we reached the outer gates, he finally spoke.

"You've done good work, Ironhart. The Holt war, without you, it might've gone differently."

"Team effort," I said.

"Maybe. But your potential…" He shook his head slowly. "It scares me. I've been on battlefields longer than you've been alive, and I've seen men rise fast. Most burn out. You're different. I'm glad you're on my side."

I didn't know how to answer that, so I just kept walking.

Cassian glanced at me sideways. "Which is why I'm taking you somewhere. You've got that quest to finish. Dangerous zones, abominations, the kind that chew up cities if left alone. I'll take you through them all."

"Thank you for your assistance." I said.

"I'm your insurance. If a Grandmaster-level one shows up, I kill it before it touches you. But we don't have time to dawdle. You'll have to move fast, clear everything you can. No hesitation."

The way he said it left no room for argument.

By the time we reached the military HQ, the sky was already sliding into late afternoon. We passed through security, saluted by guards who barely blinked at our arrival.

Cassian led me straight to the teleportation hub. The operator at the console didn't even ask where. Cassian just barked, "Western continent, military stronghold," and the platform lit up.

We stepped into the glow. There was a brief twist in my gut, the strange drop in my ears, and then—

We were standing under a brighter sky. The air here was sharper, tinged with the faint metallic tang of weapons. Rows of concrete barracks and training fields spread out around us, soldiers moving in tight drills. The Imperial banner snapped overhead.

At first, nobody noticed. Then a soldier by the gate froze mid-step. His eyes locked on me, widened, and his mouth opened.

"General Cassian!"

"Commander Ironhart!"

Heads turned. The words rippled through the base like a current. In seconds, we were surrounded, uniforms in every shade of service, boots pounding against the packed dirt as men and women closed in.

"Sir, it's an honor!" one of them blurted, straightening his back like he was in inspection.

"I heard what you did in the capital—damn, you're real," another said, eyes wide, like he was still doubting I wasn't some myth wrapped in flesh.

"You crushed the Holts like they were nothing!" a third added, his voice somewhere between awe and disbelief.

They hadn't been there for that war. All they had were rumors—stories passed down the chain of camps and taverns, swelling with each retelling. One version probably had me toppling the Holt fortress with a single swing. Another might have me walking through fire, untouched.

But now, standing in front of them, I could see how those tales had taken root. Some looked at me like they were in the presence of a living weapon. Others like they were meeting the man who made impossible things possible.

I didn't correct them. No point. Soldiers needed legends, something to believe in when orders were suicide and the air smelled of blood. If they wanted to believe I'd fought the Holt army bare-handed… then maybe that belief would carry them through their own battles.

Cassian watched from the edge of the crowd, arms crossed, saying nothing. But I caught the faintest ghost of a smile under his stern expression.

"Alright," he said after a moment, his voice carrying like a gunshot. "You can all stare later. We've got work to do."

The soldiers stepped back, reluctantly giving me space, but their eyes never left me. I felt the weight of it—not the pressure of expectation, but the reminder of what the Emperor had said earlier. Life was fragile. These men and women were looking at me as if I could shield it, as if I could stand between them and whatever threat was coming.

I moved past the rows of soldiers, their polished uniforms catching the light, and stopped beside Cassian.

"I've already given orders to the commander of this base," Cassian said, his voice calm but firm. "They'll be on full alert while you're out there hunting. Let's go meet him."

I gave a small nod.

We walked together toward the central room, our boots echoing against the stone floor. Cassian didn't bother to knock, he simply pushed the door open and stepped inside.

A middle-aged man with a short mohawk sat at a desk piled with neatly stacked papers. When his eyes landed on Cassian, he shot up instantly, his chair scraping against the floor. He stood at attention and saluted.

"General."

"How have you been, Leo? I trust you received my orders?" Cassian asked.

Leo's shoulders eased slightly as he replied. "Yes, General. I've received them, and we're fully prepared."

Cassian nodded, then turned to me. "Good. Allow me to introduce you to Commander Ironhart."

Leo looked at me then, and his eyes widened as if he hadn't quite believed the name until now.

I took a moment to size him up.

[Leo Jordan – Level 196]

"Commander Ironhart," he said, his voice carrying a note of genuine respect. "It's an honor to meet you."

I returned the smile and inclined my head. "Thank you for your service, Sir Leo."

He chuckled. "I regret not being in the capital for the war. But now… I'll finally get to see you in action for myself."