MIGHT AS WELL BE OP Chapter 764: One Of One

Chapter 764: One Of One

As the Supre Monarchs heaved a collective sigh of relief, the Fifth, Eighth, and Ninth Supre Monarchs rely sat and stared at the First, Third, Fourth, and Seventh without a flicker of expression upon their faces. Their features remained calm, distant, and apathetic, as though carved from a stone untouched by emotion.

"For a second, I thought I would be turned into a rat," the Third Supre Monarch’s deep voice rumbled through the cosmic air like rolling thunder.

He lifted one massive arm, his gaze tracing the sheer size and density of his limb, each arm was large enough to form the entire fra of another being. He loved his race as a Titan, every fiber of his colossal body radiating pride. He could not fathom giving it up for anything else. He recalled the strange sensation that had rippled through him earlier, not fear exactly, but sothing primal. His mind hadn’t felt it per se, but his blood had. His very genes, his DNA, his essence as a Titan had shuddered deep within his marrow.

He exhaled slowly, his dark eyes shifting toward the other Monarchs. He was certain they had felt the sa instinctive tremor, yet none of them voiced it. What could they possibly say? This wasn’t a therapy session, it was the aftermath of chaos.

"Well..." the Seventh Supre Monarch finally spoke, her tone asured, her eyes sharp with thought. "We have crossed a major disaster. All we can do now is adapt."

Her calm exterior betrayed nothing of the storm within. Her mind was already racing, threading through countless possibilities, formulating plans known only to her.

"What now?" the Fourth Supre Monarch asked curtly, breaking the silence.

At his words, three pairs of eyes turned toward the First Supre Monarch, who had remained utterly silent. His golden-ringed eyes were open but distant. He still sat in the sa regal posture as before, composed, unmoving, unchanged. Even after Anthony’s sudden rise, he carried himself as though the weight of leadership still belonged to him by divine right.

"Power has simply changed hands," the Dragon intoned, his voice calm and resonant. "There is nothing more to it. Power is the most basic universal truth."

His words carried neither bitterness nor pride, only acceptance. The Third, Fourth, and Seventh Supre Monarchs exchanged glances. They had expected anger, perhaps a quiet sche or hidden resentnt. One does not simply lose that magnitude of power and influence without at least so attempt to resist or retaliate.

Yet the First Supre Monarch sat unbothered, his aura tranquil. It was as though he gazed beyond the mortal and divine alike, seeing the vast picture while the rest remained tethered to the present.

"Who will be stationed at Military Base Alpha-2?" the Third Supre Monarch asked.

"The First Supre Monarch already has soone in mind, just as Anthony ntioned," the Seventh Supre Monarch replied softly.

"Indeed," the Dragon responded. "We will station the Soulpen Sovereign. Though he declined the position of a Supre Monarch, at least now he need not begin from nothing. He shall take command of Military Base Alpha-2 and continue where the fallen Second Supre Monarch left off."

His words flowed smoothly, his hair shifting in rhythm with the cosmic wind. His golden dragon scales glimred faintly beneath the distant starlight, reflecting the grand serenity of an ancient creature who had seen worlds rise and fall.

At his declaration, silence once again stretched between them as they pondered.

"What if he refuses?" the Seventh Supre Monarch finally asked, her tone uncertain. "That man has always stepped away from such matters, as though he’s grown weary of the battlefield."

"Refusal is no longer a luxury he can afford," the First Supre Monarch replied flatly. "At this point in ti, we need all hands on deck. He will have to pull his weight, for a while, at least."

The rest of the Monarchs nodded in agreent. There was no room for hesitation anymore.

"What of the soldiers stationed at Military Base Alpha-2?" the Fourth Supre Monarch asked next. "What if they inquire about the Second Supre Monarch?"

For a long mont, silence reigned. Even the cosmic air itself seed to hold its breath.

"He has gone into retirent," the Third Supre Monarch finally said. "That will be the only explanation given."

The others nodded once more. Even if the soldiers grew curious, who among them would dare to question a Supre Monarch’s word?

The Seventh Supre Monarch’s eyes then drifted toward the Ninth, Mitchelle. Her green eyes t Mitchelle’s calm, sky-blue ones, the sa hue her son Anthony had inherited.

"Can I ask you a question?" she began.

Mitchelle tilted her head slightly, her composure unwavering. "Sure," she replied.

"What exactly are you feeding your son?" the Seventh Supre Monarch asked, genuine curiosity mixing with awe. "Can I have so of that?"

Before Mitchelle could respond, a deep, cheerful laughter shook the cosmos.

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

It was Michael, the Eighth Supre Monarch, whose laughter resonated like joyous thunder across the astral expanse.

"I’m sorry," he said between laughter, "but my son is special, a one-of-one type. Only my blood can produce such talent!"

His voice carried pride rather than arrogance, though the distinction was thin. The usual stoicism that ca with his title, the Sword Saint, was nowhere to be found. Instead, he laughed openly, unrestrained, the joy of a father eclipsing the dignity of a Supre Monarch.

Mitchelle could only shake her head, though the faintest smile tugged at her lips. Michael’s pride in their son was boundless, and though she often teased him for it, she shared that sa warmth in her heart.

"Don’t listen to him," Mitchelle said with a sigh, though her tone softened with affection. "But his words do hold so truth. He really is one of one. He’s just... that talented."

A serene smile crossed her face, one filled with quiet pride.

The Seventh Supre Monarch observed the pair, their unspoken connection, their radiant pride. It was rare to see such open affection among beings who stood above all. For a brief mont, she allowed herself to feel envy, not for their power, but for the bond they shared with their child.

Her mind drifted to thoughts of the Sixth Supre Monarch, her dearest friend, the one who had always longed for motherhood but never had the chance since she didn’t find the perfect man. They had been close, bound by shared solitude, both childless, both warriors of eternity.

’Maybe I should try getting pregnant,’ she thought idly, her hand unconsciously resting upon her abdon.

’If only you were still here...’ she mused silently. ’Our children would have been friends.’

Her thoughts lingered for a long, quiet mont on the one known as the Chakram of End, the fallen Sixth Supre Monarch, whose absence still weighed on her heart.

Finally, Mitchelle rose from her cosmic throne, her aura flowing like a celestial river. "I’ll be taking my leave now. See you all later," she said softly.

A portal shimred into existence before her, its energy spiraling toward the coordinates of Military Base Alpha-9. Without a mont’s hesitation, she stepped through, her figure fading into light.

Michael and Collins followed shortly after, rising from their own seats in unison. Ordinarily, they would have returned to their respective bases, but this ti was different. They needed to see their son, the Baby Monster, the one who had shifted the entire balance of power among the Supre Monarchs.

As the portal closed, the cosmic hall fell into a hush. The stars continued their eternal dance in the void, but for those who remained, a single thought burned quietly in their minds: the era of Anthony had begun.