[Talent Recognition: "[Maleficent Architect (Lv2)] (Genesis)" confird.]
- With creation in your grasp and annihilation at your call, you shape the world not as a servant, but as its final architect, passing judgnt with every breath you grant or erase.
- Proceed with registration to the Status Panel?
- Cost: 800 Energy
- Rewards: 160 Free Stat Points
What?
Adyr stared at the panel that had suddenly appeared before him, montarily caught off guard. He hadn’t expected the system to recognize his talent upgrade so directly.
So this is how it works, he thought, unable to hide his curiosity.
Bloodline talents were always unpredictable. He had already managed to advance Sword Art of Existence by applying swordplay techniques through his wings—a thod that shouldn’t have worked, yet sohow did. And now, Maleficent Architect had leveled up in a similar, unique way.
Reading the description, it all began to make sense.
His eerie aura alone had been responsible for the deaths of thousands of people who perished simply from watching the broadcast of his battle. That fact alone stood as undeniable proof that his very presence was shaping the world itself.
This recognition wasn’t surprising anymore. The system had finally acknowledged the impact he truly wielded.
And most likely, his final conversation with Henry—the subtle way he’d implied his belief in the existing rit system and the ideology beneath it—had been the final trigger. The system must have interpreted those words as the last piece of evidence it needed to recognize and formalize his talent’s evolution.
After thinking it over briefly, Adyr pushed the system ssage aside for now. His energy was low, and he didn’t feel like dealing with it at the mont.
"Mr. Henry, I wasn’t expecting to see you here," he said, feigning surprise.
As the Defense Minister of Shelter City 9, Henry’s presence this far from his safe headquarters—on a battlefield where danger lingered everywhere—was unusual, but not entirely unexpected. For soone positioned that high in the chain of command, wanting to personally observe the force capable of altering the world wasn’t all that strange.
"Before I’m a politician, I’m a soldier. Did you forget that?" Henry Bates smiled, his tone casual, his attitude toward Adyr seemingly unchanged after everything that had happened—or at least, that’s how it appeared on the surface.
"And besides... my only son is here. As his father, I had to check if he’s still alive. Otherwise, his mother would make my life hell." He added the last part half-jokingly.
"Your trust in is heartwarming, Dad," Victor muttered, rolling his eyes.
"I’m glad all of you made it back safely," Henry said sincerely, his gaze moving over the exhausted faces and worn bodies standing in front of him. "What you’ve done—for your cities, for your people, and for this world—deserves genuine respect."
As his words settled, even Rhys Graves and the STF personnel gave a brief, disciplined salute. For a mont, the grim silence of the battlefield felt like a ceremony, pride rising subtly in the chests of the tired players.
Henry’s attention then shifted.
"And you... Adyr."
His eyes settled on the black-haired young man who stood silently before him, face calm as always.
"You’ve not changed."
It was the first ti he acknowledged it aloud, but his gaze told the rest. He studied Adyr carefully—not the power he wielded, not the fa he had gained, but the person standing in front of him.
Physically, the difference was clear. The boy who once barely reached anyone’s shoulders now stood taller, his body no longer fragile but built with lean, functional muscle. Every part of his fra spoke of efficiency, strength earned through sothing other than training. Sothing deeper.
But beyond that, Henry saw no change.
His face remained as it always had been—calm, composed, almost indifferent. There was no arrogance, no trace of self-satisfaction. His eyes still carried that unsettling mixture of cold calculation and sharp awareness, as if he were seeing sothing no one else could.
The quiet confidence he radiated wasn’t sothing new. It had always been there. He still stood exactly like the eight-year-old boy Henry rembered, though now in a body forged by war.
It felt wrong.
People didn’t stay the sa after gaining this much power, after being watched and feared by the world itself. Henry had seen even seasoned officers lose themselves once power or fa touched them. He had seen it in singers, in soldiers, and in politicians. People changed.
But not Adyr.
"In a short while, we’ll escort you back to the city. I just hope you’ll remain the sa after seeing how people receive you." Henry’s voice was more serious than Adyr had ever heard before.
What he said wasn’t advice nor a threat. It was simply... a quiet hope.
Because what awaited Adyr back ho wasn’t another wave of first-generation mutants he could fight and kill with raw strength. It was a different kind of battle—one fought in minds, in perception—and Henry wasn’t sure the boy was ready for it.
"I’m ready for whatever consequences await ," Adyr replied calmly. He understood what Henry ant. And he accepted it.
He looked like soone who carried the weight of every innocent life lost because of him, but without breaking under it. He cared enough for the deaths to matter, yet not enough for them to destroy him.
And when Henry saw his composure, he found himself silently impressed. Even Rhys—who carried the Graves surna precisely because of the deaths he had caused and witnessed—looked quietly respectful, watching Adyr stand there, bearing it all without faltering.
"Then let’s head back. First, we need to drop the Hero of Shelter City 8 at her ho." Henry’s gaze shifted toward Evangeline with a subtle smile.
She had played her part in saving her city, and it was certain her people would receive her far differently than how Adyr’s return would be t.
After a brief exchange of words, the group began preparing to depart.
The STF moved efficiently. They readied the transport vehicle for Adyr and the others, then secured the still-frozen bodies of the Sparks onto the broad roofs of the humrs using reinforced ropes. Within minutes, the convoy was moving again—this ti, heading back.
Reviews
All reviews (0)