MIGHT AS WELL BE OP

An aircraft streaked through the vast expanse of space, its velocity defying comprehension.

Within its sleek interior stood a diverse assembly, Humans, Dragons, Titans, and other formidable beings, each radiating an aura of power and prestige.

Their towering forms and commanding presence would have been enough to silence entire worlds.

They were the delegates of the Blue Planet, envoys of its will and strength.

Yet, for all their overwhelming might, it was not their presence that truly mattered, it was the smiles that adorned their faces.

They had achieved the impossible.

Their champion had not merely secured a position in the rankings, he had seized the very pinnacle, claiming first place.

Pride surged within them, an uncontainable force, for their planet's name would now echo across the stars.

Though they had entered the rankings twice before, each time they had only managed to grasp the tenth position.

But this time was different.

This time, they stood at the summit.

As the weight of their triumph settled, their gazes turned toward the one who had made it all possible.

Yet, despite their radiant smiles, the one who had made it all possible did not share in their joy.

His lips did not curl in triumph, nor did his eyes gleam with satisfaction.

Anthony had always possessed absolute control over his expression and body, an unshakable composure that concealed even the fiercest storms within him.

No matter the turmoil raging in his heart, his face remained an unbroken mask of calm.

But now, that control wavered.

Subtle, almost imperceptible, yet undeniable.

The cracks had begun to show.

Anthony's All Seeing Eyes surged to their maximum limit, straining against the vast distance as he tried to glimpse the Elf woman through the aircraft's glass.

A deep, furrowed frown carved itself onto his face, his veins bulging with barely contained fury.

His jaw clenched tight, his arms folded stiffly across his chest, yet his fists trembled, tightening with suppressed rage.

Anthony was angry.

Not just displeased.

Not just irritated.

Truly, deeply furious.

Had he ever felt such an emotion since his reincarnation?

No.

Even before then, anger had been a rarity.

He had neither friends nor lovers to stir his emotions.

Even his employers, strict as they were, never had the chance to resent or reprimand him, he performed his duties flawlessly, just to return home and lose himself in books.

And yet.

Here he was.

In his meticulously controlled life, his perfect life, consumed by rage.

"Muhahahaha! My blood truly flows in your veins, you are indeed my son!"

Michael's laughter boomed through the aircraft, his voice thick with pride as he placed a firm hand on Anthony's shoulder from behind.

His grip was steady, exuding both strength and approval.

"I must admit, I didn't expect much… but to wield such power at your age....."

Iserios Von Deathwrath's gaze bore into Anthony, his voice carrying a rare note of admiration.

His piercing eyes, accustomed to witnessing greatness, now appraised Anthony with newfound respect.

The others exchanged glances and nodded in agreement.

No further words were needed.

The reality was clear—

Anthony had surpassed all expectations.

Deep down, they all understood a harsh truth, if any of the other champions from the Bloodbath had made it to the Starborn Tournament, they wouldn't have stood a chance.

They simply did not possess that level of power.

That level of ability.

Everything they had once believed, every expectation they had carefully crafted, had been shattered before their very eyes.

"You did well, my grandson"

Collins' voice broke the silence, steady and measured.

He had never been one for excessive words.

Though he wished to say more, to express the full weight of his pride, he held back.

Victory was dangerous.

Too many had fallen, not to defeat, but to the arrogance it bred.

And so, with restraint, he said only what needed to be said.

Nothing more.

Nothing less.

Mitchelle pulled Anthony into a gentle embrace, her arms wrapping around him with a warmth only a mother could provide.

As her fingers ran through his hair, she softly patted his head.

"I'm sorry for placing such a heavy burden on your shoulders at such a young age"

Her voice was calm, yet beneath its serenity lingered a quiet sorrow.

She had always known her son was extraordinary, a being of unfathomable talent.

But that didn't mean she could bear to see him bleed.

Her hold on him tightened, as if she could shield him from the weight of his own greatness.

The anger that had burned within Anthony moments ago vanished at his mother's words, replaced by a quiet sense of warmth.

"I'm fine, Mom. Everyone has their own path. Besides, I chose this, I was never forced. If I keep myself caged in a nest, I'll never grow into the person I aim to become"

A smile touched his lips as he spoke, his voice steady and resolute.

Mitchelle gazed at him for a moment before nodding in understanding.

Then, with a smirk, she decided to shift the conversation.

"Are you angry because of that Elf woman?"

Her eyes gleamed with amusement as she studied her son's face.

"There's nothing special about her, Anthony. She never once approached you, until you revealed your power. In the end, she only wanted you because, at that moment, you were the easiest way to the top"

Her words were blunt, but they carried the sharp edge of truth.

Michael, standing beside them, nodded in agreement with Mitchelle's words.

His voice was calm yet firm as he added,

"Your mother is right. There's no need to waste your anger on an elf… our planet has an entire forest...a domain full of them. You'll have plenty of time to 'play around' with a few"

Mitchelle suddenly leaned in slightly, lowering her voice, though the excitement in her tone was unmistakable.

"Should I start planning for grandkids?"

Before Anthony could react, another voice smoothly interjected into the conversation.

"He could marry my daughter"

The room fell into silence.

Heads turned.

Aurelius Ignis, the Phoenix King, stood with a smile gracing his lips, his golden eyes gleaming with amusement.

For a fleeting moment, no one spoke.

They all knew why.

Across the vast expanse of their world, every race looked down upon humans.

Even the Werebeasts—Werewolves and Werecats, creatures of primal strength, held disdain for them.

To the world, humans were nothing more than a race lacking uniqueness, their only redeeming trait being their ability to reproduce, something even goblins excelled at.

And yet, here stood Aurelius Ignis, the Phoenix King, a being of ancient lineage and immeasurable pride, willing to dilute his own noble bloodline by merging it with that of a human.

But it wasn't just any human.

It was Null Anthony.

His name alone defied expectations.

His very existence rewrote the natural order.

And they all understood one thing with absolute certainty, his talent was beyond absurd.

"Hahahaha! What are you even saying, Aurelius? You don't even have a daughter!"

Michael's laughter boomed through the room, his tone lighthearted.

Though he refrained from voicing his thoughts on a union between a human and a phoenix, his amusement was clear.

Aurelius didn't hesitate.

His response was fast, precise, clear-cut.

"I can make one"

Silence followed.

His words were absolute, carrying the weight of a king who never spoke in jest.

Mitchelle shook her head, exhaling softly before speaking.

"We'll let our son decide who he wants to marry"

Though her tone was composed, there was a finality to her words, one that even a Phoenix King couldn't ignore.

Just as Aurelius was about to respond, Collins' voice cut through the conversation with commanding authority.

"Let us see the reward"

At his words, realization struck them all.

For a brief moment, they had allowed Anthony's talent to overshadow the very reason for their celebration.

Anthony gave a slight nod and opened his palm.

A ring materialized in his grasp, radiating an aura of immense power.

Collins cast a single glance at the ring, and without a word, it flew toward him, drawn by an unseen force.

Instantly, the delegates closed in around him. Their eyes gleamed with curiosity, and a hint of suspicion.

Even among allies, trust had its limits.

They all wanted to see the reward for themselves, to ensure Collins didn't discreetly claim anything for himself.

Yet, while the others moved toward Collins, one did not.

Baldor Ironhammer, the Dwarf King.

He moved, but in another direction.

His path diverged from the crowd, his steps deliberate.

Baldor Ironhammer walked with measured steps, his presence unshaken by the commotion behind him.

He stopped directly in front of Anthony, his sharp, experienced eyes locking onto the young champion's.

Though a dwarf, Baldor stood at an impressive 5'8" a height that defied his race's natural limits, a miracle in itself.

He stared at Anthony.

Anthony stared back.

Neither spoke.

Then, Baldor finally broke the silence.

"Can I see your weapon?"

Anthony's head tilted slightly to the side, confusion flickering across his face.

Then it dawned on him.

The dwarf race was obsessed with craftsmanship, metals, and smithing, a passion woven into their very existence.

While others might overlook Anthony's katana, failing to recognize its true nature due to the disguises he placed upon it, such deception was futile before the Dwarf King.

Baldor's gaze was no longer fixed on Anthony.

Instead, his sharp, forgemaster's eyes were locked onto the ring on Anthony's finger.