MIGHT AS WELL BE OP Chapter 746: You May Proceed

Chapter 746: You May Proceed

"No need. I’m already here."

As those words echoed through the hidden realm, sound itself seed to hesitate, as though the very fabric of existence were unwilling to carry such a declaration. In that suspended heartbeat of stillness, every Supre Monarch froze in their seats. Even the Fifth, Eighth, and Ninth Supre Monarchs, despite being those who rarely showed outward reaction, found themselves montarily stunned, their expressions wavering ever so slightly.

They all recognized the voice. How could they not? That child, no, that existence, had carved his presence into their mories in a way that could not be erased. His deanor, his presence, his gaze, his very breath had once shaken their understanding of what a mortal born under the starry sky could beco. None of them had forgotten him, not even for a mont. And yet, the one they had been discussing, the one whose fate and authority they were attempting to weigh and asure like so trivial matter, had been here all along.

Their minds spun, thoughts overlapping and fracturing at a speed that could only be described as transcendent. There was only one question ringing within their beings like a tolling cosmic bell; How?

They had not sensed him. Not a single one among them, not the First Supre Monarch, revered for his spatial awareness, nor the Seventh, known for her arcane perception, had sensed him approach. He had stepped into the hidden realm, a realm carved by their collective might, without a ripple, without a whisper, without even a flicker of energy displacent. For beings of their level, that was not rely shocking, it was unthinkable.

Eyes of various colors snapped toward the direction of the voice, their gazes cutting through space like celestial blades. And there, in that direction, reality itself began to peel apart. The fabric of the hidden realm shifted, folding like silk under unseen fingers, parting like a blooming lotus in silent, reverent obedience. The flickering stars and floating constellations that made up the tapestry of the hidden realm’s sky seed to pause, holding their brilliance as though awaiting the descent of sothing, no, soone.

From the torn veil of space, a figure erged.

A man stood suspended between the planes, cloaked not in aura or energy, but in sothing far more suffocating, presence. He stood at six foot six, his posture effortless yet magnetic, his long white hair cascading down his back like a stream of moonlight falling from the heavens. His sky-blue eyes, so clear they seed to hold the reflection of galaxies, rested calmly in their sockets.

His face, sculpted with cold divinity, bore no excess emotion. His jawline was sharp, defined, carrying a regal coldness that made the surrounding cosmos bend ever so slightly. His shoulders were broad but refined, free of any brutish excess, and his lean physique held a silent, coiled power that needed no proclamation.

There was no doubt. No one needed confirmation.

There could only be one such face.

Major Null Anthony.

He did not flare his aura. He did not summon his energies. And yet, the cosmic air, the cosmic light, even the drifting fragnts of cosmic dust bent around him in reverence, shifting their paths to accommodate his existence. Space itself seed to make way for him, acknowledging a law far above their own understanding.

Instantly, every Supre Monarch’s eyes narrowed, their pupils contracting involuntarily like prey sensing a predator beyond reason. They all knew Anthony had stepped into the Planetary Level. They had watched his battle with a Demon Monarch in the Livestream recording. But witnessing him through a recording and being in his presence were two entirely different realities.

They could feel it now. They could understand what their souls whispered on an instinctual level.

His presence was not rely vast. It was inevitable.

It was an oceanic tide, crushing not through force but through certainty, like a truth spoken by the cosmos itself. If any among them had harbored the thought that Anthony was a newborn among the Supre Monarchs, a fledgling barely stepping into their realm and thus the weakest by default, those thoughts were annihilated in that mont without rcy.

Existence does not lie.

And his existence now stood shoulder to shoulder with theirs.

Anthony’s sky-blue eyes swept across the Eight Supre Monarchs seated before him. Even the Fifth, Eighth, and Ninth Supre Monarchs, his grandparent and parents, were locked in disbelief. But he did not smile at them. He did not nod in acknowledgnt. In this mont, he did not address them as family. He looked at them as Supre Monarchs, equals in title.

With that silent declaration etched into the air, Anthony took a step.

His foot fell onto nothing but space, yet the hidden realm echoed with a deep cosmic vibration, as though the plane itself trembled beneath the pressure of his re stride. The sensation was indescribably surreal, like watching a sovereign of existence descend through a void where laws bent to his will alone.

At that mont, he no longer seed like a mortal being. He was akin to a cosmic monarch descending upon his throne to address his loyal subjects who had montarily forgotten their place.

His skill, Emperor Deanor, flared like a silent sun. It did not rage or roar. It simply existed, and reality acknowledged it. It had once struggled to keep Anthony composed during his Vega Bloodline Awakening, but now it flowed effortlessly, harmonizing with him as if recognizing its true master.

The Eight Supre Monarchs did not move. They did not speak. They did not even blink. For the first ti in countless ages, they simply watched, like mortals witnessing the descent of sothing beyond their comprehension.

Anthony approached the enclosed circle. The Eight Supre Monarchs were seated in an ancient, unbroken pattern, their cosmic thrones forming a perfect ring that allowed for no intrusion, no ninth seat. This formation was absolute, a symbolic expression of their authority over existence.

They wondered, What will he do?

Would he stand behind them like an observer? Would he remain silent, acknowledging their established order? Would he request a place among them, demanding recognition?

They understood that in this mont, every movent Anthony made, every breath, every flicker of his eyelashes, every step, held unfathomable implications.

But Anthony did none of what they expected.

He did not ask. He did not hesitate. He simply acted.

A thought, just a thought, flowed through him.

Mana burst forth from his core like a celestial tsunami, silent yet cataclysmic. The void shuddered. Not violently, but reverently, like a servant kneeling at the approach of a king. Space between the seated Supre Monarchs expanded slowly, gracefully, as though sculpted by invisible divine hands.

The hidden realm adjusted itself.

A ninth path was carved, not forcefully, but naturally, as if the realm itself acknowledged that his seat had always existed, rely waiting for him to claim it.

Without warning, the stars above flared. Constellations pulsed like beating hearts, sending torrents of starlight down in cascading pillars that pierced the air like celestial spears. Each radiant beam intertwined, weaving themselves into form, golden, incandescent, divine.

Before their eyes, a throne was born.

A cosmic throne made of living stars.

The pillars of light dissolved the mont their task was complete, as though they had never existed, leaving behind the silent, radiant throne that pulsed with quiet supremacy.

Anthony lowered himself, movents fluid and unhurried, as though ti itself moved at his pace. He sat upon the throne, one leg crossing over the other, his back resting with an elegance that could not be replicated. His hands rested upon his knee, relaxed yet poised, like a monarch who had always belonged there.

His sky-blue eyes lifted, eting eight pairs of ancient, powerful gazes at once without effort.

When he spoke, his voice did not thunder. It did not shout. It simply was.

Calm. Absolute. Undeniable.

"You may proceed."