MIGHT AS WELL BE OP Chapter 736: Detached Plane-1

Chapter 736: Detached Plane-1

“Get to the entry portal point!” the First Supre Monarch’s brisk voice tore through the corrupted air like a holy decree slicing through chaos.

Around him, the other Supre Monarchs streaked across the sky, each one a blinding beam of light, their figures barely distinguishable amidst the blur of motion. They cut through the atmosphere with overwhelming speed, a speed that no mortal eyes could follow nor mortal mind comprehend.

Mana pulsed around them like beating hearts of stars, movent techniques flared in resplendent brilliance, wings of various forms, feathered, draconic, ethereal, flapped with divine force, and elents thundered violently, tearing the already unstable atmosphere apart as every Supre Monarch unleashed everything within their arsenal to accelerate their return.

At this mont, they traversed a detached plane, a realm severed from normal reality, where the sky was nothing but a canvas of pitch darkness. No stars, no moon, no celestial guidance. Only a black sun hung above, radiating a dying light that corroded existence itself. Chaotic energy filled the air in dense waves, an energy so foul that it could corrupt, decay, and erode anything it touched, whether living or otherwise. Even the land beneath them seed alive in suffering, trembling under the weight of demonic influence.

Destruction ran amok through this detached plane, for the Supre Monarchs had just waged war against countless demons and so entities on their level. They had done so not for conquest, but for vengeance, for the fallen Chakram of End and the annihilated Military Base Alpha-6. Their wrath had burned across the realm like a divine storm, and millions had perished under their judgnt.

They had given themselves a strict ti limit before the operation began. Once that ti expired, they would retreat without hesitation, regardless of how many demons still lived. The only condition that could alter that rule was if one of them fell to True Death. Only then would the mission shift to absolute retreat.

Although none among them had suffered True Death, the predetermined ti for vengeance had finally reached its end. Without a word, without needing further command, they ceased their massacre and began heading back to their initial point of entry, their auras still suffocating the realm like the presence of gods withdrawing from a battlefield drenched in mortal blood.

Explosions still echoed faintly behind them, blood still misted through the air, choking space itself as it quaked and shattered like fragile glass. Anything that did not stand at the level of a Demon Monarch or higher was deed unworthy of even a passing glance from them. Lesser lives flickered and perished like candle flas in a hurricane.

A sudden movent stirred within the sea of darkness, an army of demons erged in a tide of black flesh and corrupted steel, their formation surging forward to intercept the Supre Monarchs. But before they could even get remotely close, the Ninth Supre Monarch, Mitchelle, stepped ahead with cold serenity. The Aetheris Codex beside her unfolded, its ancient pages flipping with unnatural speed, each page inscribed with runes older than world. Mana roared like an ocean called to obey her command.

Millions of demon soldiers rushed, their roars forming a wave of killing intent. But Mitchelle did not even blink. With a single gesture, she cast a spell, not through spoken chant but through sheer authority. Space itself detonated. With a sound like a world-sized mirror shattering, reality cracked in a blinding burst of force. The air scread. Flesh ruptured. Black blood erupted from countless bodies. Innards spilled violently to the desecrated ground below as a rain of gore splattered like a grotesque storm. But not a single Supre Monarch turned to acknowledge the scene. To them, these millions were not enemies, they were rely obstacles.

Though so of these minions possessed enough power to stand on equal footing with the Warlords of the military base, to the Supre Monarchs, they were nothing more than pests, flies in the presence of dragons.

As their black blood painted the broken earth, the Second Supre Monarch moved instantly. With a re thought, the blood froze mid-air, as though ti itself bowed to his will. The frozen ichor morphed, each droplet twisting into shapes of spears and swords, their numbers reaching into the millions. Without hesitation, the black weapons shot forward like a dark storm, their speed making the speed of sound appear like a child’s crawling pace.

Another explosion tore across the plane, and for a mont, it seed as if the entire detached realm convulsed in agony. Waves of black ichor burst outwards, consuming entire landscapes. Lives were shredded apart without resistance. Mountains cracked apart and collapsed into ash, trees were uprooted and tossed like feathers, and the once-stable terrain was reshaped entirely from a single thought-born attack.

“From the side. Intercept!” The First Supre Monarch’s voice resonated like the toll of a celestial bell. His golden ringed eyes flickered with unfathomable sight, as though he peered not just through space, but through the very threads of ti.

At his words, the Eighth Supre Monarch, Michael, the Sword Saint, moved without hesitation. His figure ignited like a sun rising in a sky of nightmarish darkness. His sword left its sheath with a sound that split the air like thunder. Sword intent poured forth from him in maddening waves, so sharp and pure that even the fabric of space recoiled from its presence. With an unbroken stride, he slashed in the direction of the approaching force.

The resulting impact was like the death of a star. A shockwave of doomsday-level might erupted outward, reality warping under the clash. Two swords collided, not purely physically, but through will, intent, and supremacy. The air howled in agony, space folded inward on itself, and the ground below flattened under invisible pressure. Chasms tore open like the maws of hungry beasts, and sinkholes yawned wide enough to swallow cities whole. Even the heavens above cracked apart, as though the sky itself threatened to collapse and drag everything down into a void of annihilation.

“Why are you running now, you damn human? HAHAHA!” The Demon Monarch’s laughter echoed with madness, bloodlust twisting his expression. But Michael did not waste ti with dialogue. They were not retreating out of fear, only because the ti limit they had set had arrived.

Before the Demon Monarch could even finish his mocking words, the space around him warped violently. Michael’s sword intent surged, bending reality like molten steel beneath a hamr. With ruthless precision, he redirected the Demon’s sabre with minimal movent, his own blade cleaving through the air like lightning tearing through the night.

The Demon Monarch moved to block, matching Michael’s speed almost perfectly. But then, he felt it. His movents slowed. Ti itself resisted him like an invisible swamp. His eyes widened. Michael didn’t need to look. He knew instantly, it was the work of the First Supre Monarch, distorting the flow of ti around the Demon to create that one fleeting mont.

Michael’s blade shifted seamlessly, altering direction mid-strike with terrifying grace. What first appeared to be a strike to the neck was rely a feint. In the next heartbeat, his sword pierced directly through the Demon Monarch’s heart with lethal precision. Like a blade through silk, flesh parted, and black blood erupted into the air in a violent spray.

But Michael did not slow down, nor did he celebrate. He knew the truth. This was not True Death. Demon Monarchs of this level always prepared contingencies, ritual hearts, soul anchors, resurrection altars hidden across the galaxy. Killing the body ant nothing unless the very concept of their existence was severed.

Michael turned, intending to rejoin the others. But before his body left the air, space around him folded like fabric being crumpled. The void wrapped around him like a living shroud, pulling him violently away from that location. In the next instant, he materialized beside his wife, the Ninth Supre Monarch, her presence like a silent storm.