MIGHT AS WELL BE OP

As the Supreme Monarchs heaved a collective sigh of relief, the Fifth, Eighth, and Ninth Supreme Monarchs merely 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 Supreme 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 frame 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 something 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 same 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 Supreme Monarch finally spoke, her tone measured, 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 Supreme Monarch asked curtly, breaking the silence.

At his words, three pairs of eyes turned toward the First Supreme Monarch, who had remained utterly silent. His golden-ringed eyes were open but distant. He still sat in the same 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 Supreme Monarchs exchanged glances. They had expected anger, perhaps a quiet scheme or hidden resentment. One does not simply lose that magnitude of power and influence without at least some attempt to resist or retaliate.

Yet the First Supreme 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 Supreme Monarch asked.

"The First Supreme Monarch already has someone in mind, just as Anthony mentioned," the Seventh Supreme Monarch replied softly.

"Indeed," the Dragon responded. "We will station the Soulpen Sovereign. Though he declined the position of a Supreme 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 Supreme Monarch left off."

His words flowed smoothly, his hair shifting in rhythm with the cosmic wind. His golden dragon scales glimmered 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 Supreme 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 Supreme Monarch replied flatly. "At this point in time, 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 agreement. There was no room for hesitation anymore.

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

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

"He has gone into retirement," the Third Supreme 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 Supreme Monarch's word?

The Seventh Supreme Monarch's eyes then drifted toward the Ninth, Mitchelle. Her green eyes met Mitchelle's calm, sky-blue ones, the same 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 Supreme Monarch asked, genuine curiosity mixing with awe. "Can I have some of that?"

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

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

It was Michael, the Eighth Supreme 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 came 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 Supreme 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 same 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 some 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 Supreme 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 moment, 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 Supreme 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 abdomen.

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

Her thoughts lingered for a long, quiet moment on the one known as the Chakram of End, the fallen Sixth Supreme 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 shimmered into existence before her, its energy spiraling toward the coordinates of Military Base Alpha-9. Without a moment'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 time was different. They needed to see their son, the Baby Monster, the one who had shifted the entire balance of power among the Supreme 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.