Anthony’s gaze turned toward the portal that the First Supre Monarch had opened. In a blur, he shot forward, his form a streak of brilliance as he surged toward it. As he passed through, reality nded itself behind him, stitching shut the tear in space until not even the faintest ripple remained.
A mont later, Anthony’s figure materialized within another hidden realm, one vastly familiar to the last. The vast expanse around him shimred with celestial serenity; stars drifted lazily through the void, suns and moons hung in eternal suspension, radiating majesty and tranquil light.
’How many hidden realms do these people even have?’ Anthony mused silently, his thoughts faintly amused. ’I only have the Divine Realm for training and the Mirror Dinsion... yet they seem to collect realms like they’re re trinkets.’
If he desired to create one of his own, it wouldn’t have been difficult. His mastery over space and ti had long surpassed the threshold required for such a feat. But Anthony saw no need to waste effort crafting a separate realm when a single snap of his fingers could open the Mirror Dinsion, a domain perfectly suited for training, reflection, or destruction, depending on his purpose.
His sky-blue gaze drifted forward, settling upon a cosmic throne that awaited him. It was the only vacant one, carved from condensed starlight and adorned with flowing runes that pulsed faintly with cosmic energy. The other thrones, already occupied by the remaining Supre Monarchs, surrounded him in a perfect ring of silent authority.
The Supre Monarchs watched him quietly. Their faces were calm, their expressions unreadable, but their eyes betrayed the weight of their thoughts. In this mont, Anthony was the center of the their thoughts, the strongest among them, and strength was all that mattered. His age, his inexperience, his mortal origins... none of it held aning before power. The cosmos cared not for how strength was attained, only that it existed. And Anthony possessed it in overflowing asure.
Floating within the void, Anthony’s posture was regal, effortless. He descended with the composure of an Emperor and took his place upon the throne. His movents were unhurried, each one imbued with quiet command. Once seated, he lifted his head slightly, his eyes calm and serene as they t the collective gaze of the Monarchs. For a while, none of them spoke. The air felt dense, almost suffocating, as though the universe itself dared not interrupt the silence between them.
The First, Third, Fourth, and Seventh Supre Monarchs exchanged brief glances, but none dared to be the first to speak. They hesitated, not out of indecision, but out of caution. They knew nothing of Anthony’s temperant. Was he a tyrant who ruled with an iron fist, or a pragmatic ruler who valued order? None could tell. Even the calst among them could feel unease slithering through their veins.
In their usual etings, they would converse freely. Despite the First Supre Monarch’s absolute authority, his nature was asured and fair. He entertained counsel, accepted opinions, and acted with precision. But this was different. Anthony was an unknown, a force that had shattered balance, erased one of their own, and replaced him without hesitation. None among them could gauge how far his patience reached or what might provoke his wrath.
For now, silence was their safest refuge.
The stillness stretched endlessly. Even Collins, Michael, and Mitchelle remained unmoved. They sat with tranquil poise, entirely unbothered by the oppressive quiet. Their expressions were serene, as though the silence itself was a familiar comfort. There was no tension in their bodies, no unease. Only a faint pride glead in their eyes as they regarded Anthony, their blood, their legacy.
Within re months, the Military had lost two Supre Monarchs: the Sixth and the Second. Under any other circumstance, such losses would have been catastrophic, shaking the core of their power. Yet as they gazed upon Anthony, the once-fragile balance of the Supre Monarchs no longer seed diminished. If anything, their collective strength had grown more terrifying than ever before.
At last, Anthony spoke. His calm voice broke the silence like a whisper cutting through still water.
"First Supre Monarch."
The Dragon raised his head slightly, focusing his ancient gaze on Anthony. The title alone was enough to command attention, and the First Supre Monarch’s senses sharpened instinctively. The haze that usually cloaked his form dissipated, revealing his humanoid appearance, majestic, regal, and aged by countless years. Not that the haze had ever obscured him from Anthony’s sight; nothing truly could.
"You once said the Military’s strength would reduce significantly if we were to lose the Second Supre Monarch," Anthony began, his tone steady, his eyes piercing. "Do you still hold that belief to be true?"
The question hung heavy in the air. The First Supre Monarch felt his lips twitch faintly, though he suppressed the urge to frown. Indeed, he had spoken those words, back when he still believed the Second Supre Monarch could be saved. But now, to affirm that statent before Anthony would be both foolish and false. A ’yes’ could be interpreted as doubt, or worse, as provocation.
He paused only briefly before responding with the weight of truth. "No," he said at last. "With your current abilities, you could face all of us combined and still prevail."
Anthony inclined his head slightly, acknowledging the words without arrogance or satisfaction. "I see," he murmured, his expression unreadable.
Silence reclaid the realm. Anthony sat motionless, his eyes half-lidded in thought. He had no interest in lengthy discourse. He hadn’t co here to debate or to assu authority. His purpose had been simple, revenge. And that purpose had already been fulfilled.
When he finally spoke again, his tone was asured, his intent clear. "Although I have no interest in holding the title of Supre Monarch, nor in involving myself with the Military’s internal decisions, do not hesitate to summon should a threat arise, one capable of shaking the Military itself."
His words carried no hostility, only quiet indifference. etings, bureaucracy, and politics bored him. He had no desire to sit through endless discussions among ancient beings who thrived on procedure. He preferred solitude, training, exploration, creation. Still, he wasn’t irresponsible. When a true threat ca, he would answer the call without hesitation. He was, after all, still a soldier, technically, a Major-ranked soldier.
"As you wish," the First Supre Monarch replied, bowing his head slightly.
Anthony nodded once in acknowledgnt. "As for Military Base Alpha-2," he continued, "I’m certain you’ve already prepared a solution before the Second Supre Monarch’s... departure. Therefore, there’s nothing more to discuss."
The statent was final, absolute. No one dared to contest it. The First Supre Monarch and the others nodded in silent agreent. The matter was closed.
Anthony’s gaze drifted toward his grandfather and his parents. A faint, almost imperceptible smile touched his lips. He inclined his head slightly, a gesture of respect, of acknowledgnt, and then, without warning, his figure vanished. There was no flare of light, no ripple of spatial distortion. He was simply gone, as though reality itself had accepted his departure seamlessly.
The hidden realm returned to utter stillness. The cosmic lights shimred faintly, casting ethereal hues over the thrones. For several long seconds, no one dared to move or speak. Then, at last, the Third, Fourth, and Seventh Supre Monarchs exhaled softly, releasing breaths they hadn’t realized they were holding.
To them, the ordeal had ended. The storm had passed. For now, at least, they had survived the gaze of the young Emperor who could annihilate them all with a thought. Relief washed over their hearts like a gentle tide.
For Anthony, however, this was only another quiet step toward sothing far greater.
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