MIGHT AS WELL BE OP

Within the boundless expanse of the galaxy, in a secluded corner that few even knew existed, a mysterious being sat in serene silence. His white hair shimmered faintly, resting upon his head like a crown woven from moonlight. Seated in a perfect lotus position, he exuded an ancient stillness.

One moment, his appearance withered, his face wrinkled, his frame frail, as though a gentle breeze could shatter his existence into dust. The next, his features rejuvenated, smooth and youthful, no older than his early twenties. He seemed to drift between ages, embodying both the frailty of mortality and the vigor of eternity.

The planet he occupied was no ordinary world. It was a fragmented one where time itself had lost all meaning, a temporary, erratic time zone that fluctuated without direction or purpose, like a broken pendulum swinging to no rhythm.

Seconds bled into hours, hours folded into moments, and yet, amidst this madness, the being remained still. Unmoved by time's insanity, he sat peacefully, as if he were the very axis upon which chaos turned. His calm presence defied the madness that consumed everything else.

After an immeasurable stretch of silence, the being exhaled softly. His eyes opened, and in that moment, the universe seemed to pause in reverence. His irises were breathtaking, a kaleidoscope of colors resembling a celestial clock, each hue marked with numbers that shimmered faintly as though recording the flow of time itself.

The man's name was Aaaninja Chronisynth Eternos.

He had secluded himself in this planet ever since his last encounter with Anthony and Lucian. He sat within a forsaken world devoid of life, no civilizations, no creatures, only towering green trees that stretched hundreds of meters into the sky. The air was still, the silence heavy, broken only by the whisper of unseen winds that drifted through the colossal forest.

With effortless grace, Aaaninja rose to his feet. The moment he did, a faint ripple distorted the space before him. From within that ripple, an illusionary figure materialized, an entity that seemed to exist halfway between reality and dream. Upon appearing, the figure immediately fell to his knees, his form flickering faintly as though struggling to maintain stability.

"My Lord, you have finally emerged from training," the illusionary being said, bowing low. "Your presence is requested at the gathering of the galaxy's top forces."

His tone was respectful and direct, knowing well that his master disliked idle chatter.

"Not interested," Aaaninja replied instantly, his voice calm but final. He had no intention of wasting precious time on what he considered the meaningless pride of self-proclaimed powers. His focus was singular, training, nothing more.

"My Lord, this concerns the fate of the galaxy itself," the subordinate pressed, his tone carrying urgency yet still drenched in reverence.

"Then brief me after the meeting," Aaaninja said flatly, already turning away. The so-called fate of the galaxy meant little to him; his path was his own.

The subordinate, however, was not so easily dismissed. As Aaaninja began to walk away, he spoke again, this time with hesitation, as though he had been forced to play his final card.

"My Lord... the winner of the last Starborn Tournament will be attending."

Aaaninja froze. His footsteps halted mid-stride. Without turning, he asked, his tone quiet but laced with sharp curiosity, "How do you know this?"

"The invitation list was handed to the Patriarch himself, my Lord," the subordinate explained quickly. "Although the winner does not hail from any of the dominant galactic organizations, his victory earned him and his planet an invitation, along with the other top ten participants of the tournament."

The illusionary figure remained composed, his tone steady and his projection calm. He had served Aaaninja for over a century, since the latter's youth, and had long been his personal bodyguard. Yet, after witnessing the rapid and terrifying evolution of his young master's power, he often questioned whether the title bodyguard still applied.

But he did know one thing with absolute certainty: Aaaninja's desire to surpass the one who had once defeated him burned brighter than any star. His master had always been disciplined, devoting every breath to training, yet something had changed after his first and only defeat.

Although his Young Lord's opponent had been merely human, the subordinate had to admit that for a human to overcome one who commanded time itself, that human had to be extraordinary.

A faint smile curved Aaaninja's lips, so small it could have been mistaken for a trick of the light. "It seems things have just become interesting."

Inwardly, his thoughts drifted. 'Lucian will likely be there as well… and the other human, Charles Evander.'

The subordinate, still kneeling, lifted his head slightly. "Will you be attending, my Lord?" he asked cautiously. He needed an answer soon; the preparations for such a journey were no simple matter. Truthfully, he had delayed delivering the invitation earlier.

Interrupting Aaaninja's training was unthinkable, such an act could cause backlash or damage the foundation of his cultivation. His Lord detested interruptions so much that even now, the subordinate's true body was not physically present on the planet. He was projecting himself from an asteroid orbiting nearby.

"When is the meeting?" Aaaninja finally asked, his back still turned.

"In four days, my Lord. Given our proximity to the meeting's location, we can depart in three days time," the subordinate replied respectfully.

Aaaninja's gaze shifted toward the horizon, where faint streaks of golden mist drifted across the sky. "Very well," he said at last. "Make the necessary preparations. I will attend."

Hearing those words, the subordinate released a quiet breath of relief. A calm smile touched his ethereal face. "Understood, my Lord. You are permitted to bring two individuals from the younger generation as your companions. Shall I inform the Patriarch to select them, or will you decide personally?"

"I'll be bringing my girlfriend," Aaaninja said, his tone casual, almost uncharacteristically soft. "I'm sure she'll enjoy the journey. As for the third spot, Father can choose whoever he deems fit."

The subordinate's expression twitched faintly with surprise, though he masked it quickly. Even after a century of service, he still found it difficult to comprehend how someone so utterly devoted to cultivation and temporal mastery could maintain a romantic relationship. Yet, knowing his Young Lord's affinity with time, he reasoned silently that perhaps Aaaninja simply made time for everything.

"As you wish, my Lord," the subordinate said finally, bowing once more.