MIGHT AS WELL BE OP

Within the vast expanse of Military Base Alpha-9, space itself trembled before tearing apart. A portal burst open midair, its edges rippling like molten glass. From it stepped three figures, Mitchelle, Michael, and Collins. At this moment, they stood within Mitchelle's castle, her personal residence as the Supreme Monarch of this military base. The grand halls shimmered with a faint golden glow, the air thick with her mana signature.

The instant they arrived, all three of them felt it, Anthony's presence radiating from another location within the castle. Their senses honed in unison. Michael vanished first, his form dissolving into a blur of pure sword intent. Collins followed, disappearing in a flash of white thunder that cracked the air. Mitchelle, with her characteristic grace, simply teleported, bending light and space around her.

Inside one of the castle's chambers, Anthony sat with calm composure, his focus fixed on a vision-like projection before him, he was observing the Second Supreme Monarch as though watching a live transmission across dimensions. The tranquil air twisted suddenly as three distinct presences appeared behind him.

Anthony immediately severed the connection, his vision refocusing on the present. The moment he turned, a bright smile spread across his face, his father, mother, and grandfather stood before him.

'Only Grandma is missing,' he thought with quiet happiness.

He rose from his seat and strode forward, pulling the three of them into a warm embrace, his grin radiant. No matter how much power he attained or how many enemies he had crushed beneath his might, his family remained the one thing that truly grounded him.

"I missed you all," Anthony said warmly, his voice echoing softly through the chamber.

Michael, Mitchelle, and Collins returned his embrace with smiles that reflected both pride and affection.

"How have you been, baby monster?" Michael asked, his tone light. He didn't immediately dive into talk about Anthony's powers or his recent feats, Anthony was his son first before any other title or achievement.

"Why bother asking, Father?" Anthony teased, feigning a wounded expression. "Since I joined the military, I've only seen you once. Did you get another baby monster somewhere else?"

Michael chuckled, shaking his head. "As a soldier, you are supposed to stand tall in loneliness and solidarity."

"Oh? Does that mean you're divorcing Mother so you can fully embrace loneliness and solidarity?" Anthony asked slyly, a mischievous smile dancing across his lips.

At that, Michael almost choked on air, feeling Mitchelle's gaze land sharply on him, a silent but dangerous look that dared him to answer wrong.

"It seems you've become rather cunning, young man," Collins said calmly, rescuing his son from certain doom.

'Spending too much time with Vega will do that to you,' Anthony mused inwardly, recalling how Vega often delighted in asking trick questions purely for amusement.

"Good afternoon, Grandfather," Anthony greeted respectfully.

Collins nodded, placing a large, smooth hand on his grandson's head and gently ruffling his hair. He was a man of few words, but the faint smile that curved his lips spoke volumes. His eyes softened as he looked at Anthony, his heart swelling with pride.

His own son, Michael, was still striving to surpass him, yet here stood his grandson, who had already done so.

"Grandfather, you seem to be in an unusually good mood today," Anthony remarked with a curious smile.

"Oh? Why do you say that?" Collins asked, arching a brow.

Anthony studied him for a moment, then smiled lightly. "You're smiling more than usual," he said.

Collins's grin widened slightly as he replied, "You'll understand when you become a grandfather yourself."

Anthony blinked, then chuckled softly. 'Skipping parenthood and jumping straight into being a grandfather… classic,' he thought to himself with amusement.

At that moment, none of them looked like Supreme Monarchs. The air carried no oppressive aura, no regal distance. Instead, they were simply a family, smiling, laughing, teasing one another like any other.

"Grandfather, where's Grandmother?" Anthony asked after a moment, realizing how long it had been since he'd last seen her.

"I'll be right back," Collins replied, waving a hand. A swirling portal bloomed before him, and without another word, he stepped through it, vanishing from the base to fetch his wife.

Anthony watched him go, nodding in contentment. He truly wanted to see Irene again, it had been too long, and now felt like the perfect moment.

Suddenly, Mitchelle's demeanor shifted. Her calm, regal authority returned in full force. Turning slightly, she spoke in a tone that carried quiet power. "Leave. Do not return until I call for you six." Her voice was calm, but each word bore the unmistakable weight of command.

Neither Anthony nor Michael reacted, they both knew exactly who she was addressing. The six Warlords under her command had approached the castle, drawn by her sudden arrival. The moment she spoke, their presences faded entirely, obeying her word without hesitation.

"If I had six Warlords like yours, my life would be much easier," Michael remarked with a faint smile.

Mitchelle's eyes flicked toward him. "You don't have any work," she countered smoothly. "You abandon your military base to go planet-hunting, chasing down Demon Monarchs for the thrill of battle."

Michael's lips twitched at her blunt words. "You make it sound like I'm irresponsible," he muttered, though there was no true protest in his tone.

Mitchelle didn't answer immediately. Instead, her expression softened as she turned back to Anthony, her gaze filled with quiet warmth. "How about a proper family dinner?" she suggested. "Since this is a full reunion from our various bases, let's have a family feast."

Anthony's eyes brightened. "Gladly," he said with an eager nod.

"Come then," Mitchelle said, standing gracefully. "I'll be needing your help in the kitchen."

Michael blinked, genuinely surprised. "You can cook?" he asked, his brow lifting. He had never once seen Anthony handle anything that wasn't a sword, spell, or battlefield tactic.

Mitchelle smiled knowingly. "No need to follow us," she said to her husband. "The kitchen is a sacred place, reserved for me and my son."

"You mean our son," Michael corrected, feigning indignation.

"Hmph. Prove it," Mitchelle replied teasingly.

Before Michael could come up with a response, both Mitchelle and Anthony vanished, teleporting directly to the castle's kitchen.

Left alone, Michael stood for a moment before exhaling softly, a fond smile tugging at his lips. He knew his wife's playful nature all too well, especially when it came to Anthony. It was one of the many things he loved about her.

The faint crackle of residual energy from their teleport lingered in the air as Michael turned toward the grand windows of the throne hall. Outside, the sun of Alpha-9 shimmered above the horizon, painting the castle's crystal walls in shades of gold and azure.

He folded his arms and chuckled quietly. "A family feast, huh?" he murmured to himself. "It's been a long time since we've had one of those."

And with that, the great Sword Saint, the Eighth Supreme Monarch, allowed himself a rare moment of peace, content in the knowledge that, for now, his family was whole.