MIGHT AS WELL BE OP Chapter 755: Hypocrite

Chapter 755: Hypocrite

Within a distant and unasured corner of the galaxy, the cosmos unfolded in its eternal grandeur. Stars shone with radiant brilliance, casting their light upon vast stretches of the void. Planets revolved in intricate orbits within their solar systems, while suns blazed with immortal fire, igniting the heavens with warmth and fury. Moons clung to their parent worlds in silent devotion, and asteroids drifted lazily across the endless dark. Nebulas churned in slow, magnificent turbulence, painting the tapestry of the void with divine artistry, colors and gases swirling like celestial brushstrokes across an infinite canvas.

But amidst this breathtaking display of cosmic beauty, a vast and ominous void chasm tore through space itself, a long, bottomless void that spanned millions of kiloters, stretching outward as if to divide this corner of the galaxy in half. It was an like ancient scar, an abyss where light seed reluctant to dwell.

On one side of this imasurable chasm, four beings floated silently. They were the First, Third, Fourth, and Seventh Supre Monarchs, each an existence whose very presence could bend the fabric of space. But at this mont, all four wore expressions of deep frowns, their regal countenances darkened by grim contemplation as they stared across the rift at the figures on the opposite side.

There, upon the other end of the void chasm, two figures hovered amidst the cosmic expanse. One was a vampire, his aura dark, regal, and filled with pride even in defeat. The other was a human, yet his bearing was so absolute, so imperious, that he seed more like an Emperor of the stars than a re man. The vampire dangled helplessly in his grasp, his throat caught firmly in the human’s hand, as though he were nothing more than a discarded beast.

These two were Anthony and the Second Supre Monarch.

At that sight, the four Supre Monarchs remained still, their brows furrowed, their silence heavy with the weight of the mont. The five seconds Anthony had granted them to act felt like an eternity. Each tick of ti dragged unbearably, as though the galaxy itself had chosen to slow its rotation, forcing them to linger in the suffocating realization of their own powerlessness.

The Second Supre Monarch’s crimson eyes flickered toward his companions, the four Supre Monarchs who stood across the divide. Deep within those eyes, behind the hatred and arrogance, a faint light flickered. A fragile ember of hope. A plea, silent and desperate, for salvation. For intervention. For the camaraderie of ages past to an sothing more than empty titles.

But as the seconds crept by, that flicker of hope dimd. It faltered, then vanished entirely, devoured by the darkness of madness and the pride that had long consud his heart.

When the five seconds finally elapsed, Anthony’s calm, cold voice broke the silence.

"It seems not everyone is too stupid and prideful to deny reality," he said softly, his tone indifferent yet razor-sharp, carrying through the stars like a divine decree.

None of the four Supre Monarchs had moved. Not a single one dared to cross the chasm. To risk their existence for the Second Supre Monarch? Impossible. The man wasn’t worth it, not now, not in a thousand years, not even in eternity.

"YOU CALL YOURSELVES SUPRE MONARCHS? HOW DISGRACEFUL! YOU ARE NOTHING BUT FOOLS, SUPRE FOOLS! A DISGRACE TO THE MILITARY!"

The Second Supre Monarch roared in fury, his voice reverberating through the cosmic expanse. The sound waves of his rage rippled across the void, carrying far and wide. Even the Fifth, Eighth, and Ninth Supre Monarchs, who were watching the event unfold from a distant corner of the void, heard his voice clearly. They, however, rely smiled, amused spectators to his humiliation.

"And you, First Supre Monarch!" he bellowed again, his crimson eyes burning with fury. "YOU DARE CALL YOURSELF THE TILESS SAGE OF DRAGONS? LOOK AT YOU, PATHETIC, SILENT, PARALYZED! ONCE, YOU CLAID ABSOLUTE AUTHORITY OVER EVERYTHING, A BEING WHO STOOD ABOVE AGES AND ERAS. WHERE IS THAT DOMINION NOW? WHERE IS THAT MIGHT? YOU, AND THE REST OF YOU, ARE NOTHING BUT HYPOCRITES!"

The vampire’s roar echoed through the emptiness, dripping with venom and despair.

Anthony did nothing. He rely stood there, his grip on the vampire’s throat strong but calm. His expression remained composed, devoid of malice or emotion. He allowed the man to speak, to scream, to vent the last vestiges of his pride. He allowed him to cling to the final illusion of defiance.

The four Supre Monarchs, on the other hand, remained utterly motionless. The frowns on their faces softened into an expressionless calm, their once-burning eyes now cold and indifferent. They saw through the vampire’s ploy as easily as one sees through a sheet of glass.

The Second Supre Monarch was rely attempting to provoke them, to stir their pride, to goad them into action. He wanted them to strike at Anthony, to join him in his downfall, to drag them into mutual destruction. It was a desperate strategy, one born from hopelessness. But such childish tricks would never work on beings like them, Supre Monarchs who had ruled across years, who had sched and plotted through centuries.

"Are you done?" Anthony finally asked, his voice cutting through the silence like a blade.

The Second Supre Monarch glared at him with unbridled hatred. His eyes, crimson like blood, burned brighter than ever.

"Don’t think you’ve rid yourself of ," he hissed, his tone low and venomous. "I will return. I will burn everything you possess. I will erase your legacy, your bloodline, your very existence. You shall beg for death, and it shall beco your only salvation. But I will never grant it. You will pray for the release of oblivion, yet it will never co. Await my return, Null Anthony. Await my madness."

Blood and saliva mixed in his mouth as he spat forward in contempt. The mixture flew through the air, propelled by hate, but before it could touch Anthony, the flow of Infinity itself rippled. The spittle froze midair, its motion halted, suspended like a droplet caught between monts of ti. Anthony glanced at it once, dispassionately, and it disintegrated into nothingness.

"A Supre Monarch reduced to spitting in the face of his enemy," Anthony said quietly, his tone calm and almost pitying. "You’ve fallen so far. Once, your na carried the weight of terror across realms. Now, you are nothing more than an echo of that glory, a man begging for acknowledgnt through insults."

He paused for a brief mont, his sky-bkue eyes gleaming faintly beneath the endless starlight. "As for your threats," he added with a faint, knowing smile, "I welco them. Perhaps they will serve as a source of amusent... or even humor in the future."

The Second Supre Monarch’s pupils dilated slightly, confusion flickering across his expression.

’He... he’s not planning to kill ?’ he thought, disbelief warring with hatred.

’How arrogant,’ he thought again, though he didn’t dare say it aloud. He feared that the re whisper of defiance might change Anthony’s mind, might make him reconsider and end it all right here.

But what the Second Supre Monarch failed to understand was that sotis, death was not the punishnt, it was the rcy. Death was a companion, a friend, a release from suffering. For so, it was the final embrace of peace, a silent end to tornt. But he would not be granted that kindness.

He had lost his chance to et that companion. He had been denied the comfort of an ending. The ti would co when he would beg for it, cry for it, even dream of it. But it would never arrive.