MIGHT AS WELL BE OP Chapter 882: Military Group

Chapter 882: Military Group

As Anthony, Aaaninja, Lucian, Aura Nova, Vega, and Kingsley were discussing among one another, those from the Older Generation were also engaged in their own discussions. They huddled together, standing upon the flat, desolate surface of a shattered star, its faint cosmic glow illuminating their figures against the endless void.

"What’s our next step?" a Vampire asked as she stood with a natural, almost srizing grace. Although she had just finished a life-threatening battle, her body appeared immaculate, unmarred by wounds or scars. Yet no one present was fooled. While her physical injuries had been healed, the damage to her essence, sothing far more difficult to restore, still lingered beneath the surface.

The Overseer, who floated calmly among them, spoke next. "During the eting, toward the end, I was going to propose that we create a military group of sorts, pairing everyone into structured teams."

"What’s the use of that?" a mber of the Celestial race asked, his tone skeptical. "The Younger Generation is of no use in the true battle."

"This military group isn’t for the Younger Generation," the Overseer replied calmly. "It’s for us. I’m sure you all already know that many of you cannot defeat a single Eleven-Winged Angel alone, let alone a Twelve-Winged Angel. We don’t even know if a Thirteenth-Winged Angel exists, or how powerful their so-called God truly is." His voice remained steady, but the gravity of his words weighed heavily on everyone present.

Silence followed as they considered his statent. After a brief pause, the Overseer continued, "I’m sure everyone would prefer to work with mbers of their own race. However, I propose that each group consist of different races. With diverse abilities complenting one another, we can better withstand unexpected tactics and strategies they might employ."

He paused for a mont before continuing. "Of course, the Younger Generation and other lower-level forces would be placed into their own military groups. After all, the Divinora Galaxy won’t be filled only with Planetary-level beings. There will also be weaker beings and races, ones I’m sure they’ll use as cannon fodder."

Everyone frowned at that. None of them wanted to be grouped together with other races, especially those they barely trusted, but they couldn’t deny the truth in the Overseer’s words.

"There are literally trillions upon trillions of people," the First Supre Monarch said, his brows knitting together. As a military man, he understood the scale of what was being proposed. "How long will it take to organize sothing like this? We’re mobilizing entire races, along with mbers from countless powerhouses."

"We start with the Planetary-level beings, then work our way down," Zachary intoned from the side. "Since we’re the strongest and will act as the vanguard, it’s best to get our own affairs in order first, in case of another unexpected attack." At his words, several people nodded in agreent.

"How will we decide the leader of each group, then?" another person asked.

Eyes imdiately turned toward the one who had spoken, many of them filled with disbelief, as though they were staring at an idiot. "Isn’t it obvious?" soone finally replied, their tone unmistakably condescending. "Whoever is strongest within the group becos the leader."

"We’ll also need Mana Contracts," Riven added calmly from the side. "They’ll prevent sudden backstabbing, sneak attacks, or deliberate misguidance." No one argued against that suggestion. Although they were united at this mont, there were countless ways for team mbers to kill one another without ever directly attacking.

Soone ant to block an attack could simply fake the motion, allowing the strike to pass through and hit their teammate instead, killing them instantly. Though they hadn’t attacked directly, they would have manipulated the situation to lethal effect.

No one present was naive enough to believe fully in camaraderie under circumstances like these. Yes, camaraderie might exist in the heat of battle, but not to the extent of risking one’s life purely for another without hesitation. Survival always ca first.

"What about them?" soone asked.

At that question, everyone lifted their heads, gazes turning upward to where Anthony and his companions floated calmly in the void.

To say they were shocked would be an understatent. Initially, they had believed that only Aaaninja had reached the Planetary level. Yet now, with their own eyes, they could clearly see that several others from the Younger Generation had stepped into that sa realm.

While the Younger Generation had initially retreated to safety, they had stayed, and ultimately won their battles without sustaining any visible injuries.

Envy stirred within the hearts of many present as they looked at Anthony, Lucian, Aaaninja, Aura Nova, Kingsley, and Vega. Their talent was simply absurd. If any of the Older Generation possessed such potential, they wouldn’t need to form teams just to face a single Eleven-Winged Angel. They couldn’t help but sigh at how unfair the galaxy could be.

"I suppose the saying that the new generation will surpass the old wasn’t spoken for nothing," a man from the Luminari race muttered as he stared at the younger stars floating above them.

"I have to say, your Blue Planet has been rising far too fast since the Starborn Tournant," the Overseer said, his gaze shifting toward Mitchelle, the woman who had bypassed his Void Dinsion.

A soft smile graced Mitchelle’s lips. She was proud of her son, Anthony. What mother wouldn’t be proud of witnessing their own child make history before the eyes of the galaxy?

"Even setting aside soone like Anthony," the Overseer continued, "to think that two others almost as ridiculous as him exist..." His black eyes shifted toward Kingsley, from whom he couldn’t sense even a shred of mana or energy. Then his gaze moved to Vega. While she was powerful, she was still weaker than him. As for her beauty, the Overseer wasn’t Azarion Starweaver. He was a man who cared only for battle, bloodshed, and carnage. Beauty? Could beauty withstand a punch from him?

"It seems I may have to visit the Blue Planet soon," he added finally, as though determined to discover what made that planet so extraordinary.

The Older Generation from the Blue Planet, such as the First Supre Monarch, Michael, and Collins, remained largely unbothered. After the battle, both the First Supre Monarch and the Third Supre Monarch were battered, their bodies marred with various injuries.

As mbers of the sa faction and planet, they had ford their own team simply to stay alive. They couldn’t afford to place their trust in people they had t only hours ago. The Third Supre Monarch was a Titan, a race that thrived on and loved battle. Even as he stood upon the star now, his mind replayed monts from the fight over and over again.

As for the ongoing eting, he barely listened. His thoughts were focused entirely on the Ten-Winged Angel with whom he had exchanged fists and devastating attacks.

A smile slowly appeared on his brown lips. This had been his first ti standing on a stage like this, and yet it was already unforgettable. Though he had fought in many Planetary-level battlefields before, none had been tied to a full-scale Galactic Conquest.

He couldn’t help but look forward to the coming war. Though he knew the next wave of enemies would be stronger, and that he himself was still lacking, it did nothing to suppress his anticipation or battle intent. Instead, he welcod it wholeheartedly.

To him, this was nothing less than an opportunity: a chance to climb higher upon the path of power and ascension.