MIGHT AS WELL BE OP

Chapter 592: Arrogance

Below, the vampires moved about their daily lives with an air of leisure, their every gesture laced with arrogance, like beings who believed themselves above all else. Unbeknownst to them, the end of their existence loomed near. Their lifespans had already been devoured… consumed by a human whale cloaked in mortal flesh.

Then, as if gripped by an unseen force, every one of them froze mid-step. Crimson eyes snapped skyward, drawn by the sudden eruption of mana, an overwhelming quantity so immense, it defied reason. It was the kind of mana that should belong only to a Supreme Monarch… and yet, it emanated from someone far beneath that title.

Then they felt it, a sudden, a subtle shift in the fabric of space itself. Reality twisted, sealing shut like a cage, anchoring them to the planet as though forbidding even the idea of escape. They required no warning; instinct screamed the truth, an enemy had arrived.

Their eyes rose as one, drawn to the figure above: a boy, no more than a youth, with snow-white hair and glacial blue eyes. He hovered serenely, an ethereal aura drifting around him like the calm before a cataclysm.

Then they saw it.

The boy’s hand lifted, slowly, gently, as if to swat away an insect. And in that instant, the toll of death echoed in their minds, silent yet deafening. Panic surged. They didn’t hesitate.

Artifacts flared to life. Skills activated. Abilities exploded outward in desperate defense, each vampire driven by the primal knowledge that death itself had raised its fist against them.

But it was all futile.

The moment his fist drifted forward, space itself ruptured, shattering outward like a cannonball tearing through paper. The air screamed in protest, howling with unrestrained fury as the pressure surged. Below, time seemed to slow as countless vampires saw the fragments of their lives flicker before vanishing, erased in an instant by a single blow from above.

Then came the impact.

A cataclysmic shockwave erupted, a deafening roar that echoed through existence itself. It rippled outward in concentric rings, obliterating everything in its path, buildings, streets, shops, lives, identities, reduced to dust in the blink of an eye.

From the heart of the devastation, a towering dust storm surged into the sky, mushroom-shaped and colossal, stretching thousands of meters high as if pleading with the heavens to intervene… to halt the massacre.

But no mercy came.

In that single instant, thousands perished. The city drowned in a crimson haze, blood mist saturating the air. Every defense, every barrier, every last hope crumbled like a sandcastle struck by an axe.

Anthony hovered high above, observing the carnage without a flicker of guilt, without even a passing thought. He hadn’t come to speak, to negotiate, or to deliver some grand justification for their annihilation. His purpose was singular: extinction.

He watched impassively as the shockwave continued to tear through the city, reducing lives to ash in its wake. A single punch from a being of his caliber was unstoppable, absolute. And yet, he had held back. He hadn’t unleashed his full strength. This wasn’t mercy; he simply didn’t wish to end everything in one strike.

Far below, his Sense Dome expanded like an unseen sphere of omniscience, capturing movement, figures launching themselves toward him with explosive speed, sonic booms trailing in their wake as they shattered the sound barrier.

But Anthony didn’t so much as glance their way.

Their fury meant nothing to him.

Their righteous indignation, their desperate need to retaliate, he had no interest in hearing it. He didn’t wait for their speeches, their threats, or their villainous monologues.

His hand drifted to the hilt of his ever-faithful katana, resting patiently at his waist. In that instant, time itself seemed to fracture, slowing to a near standstill within Anthony’s perception. With a calm, almost reverent motion, he began to draw the blade.

A soft hiss echoed through the air, not loud, but resonant, like a serpent whispering death into the wind.

Then, halfway through the draw, he stopped, and gently returned the blade to its sheath.

Silence followed.

A silence so profound, so absolute, it seemed to stretch for an eternity. For those attuned to mana, it felt as if their planet hesitated… as though the very fabric of reality struggled to comprehend the scale of what had just occurred.

Then — reality cracked.

Sword lines, thousands of them, materialized across the heavens like brush strokes on an infinite canvas. Each line was precise and merciless, long, blue, razor-sharp, and laced with lethal intent. They glowed with divine fury, suspended in the sky, cutting through clouds, space, and thought itself.

And before any of them could even blink…

The sky fell.

The sword lines descended like judgment from above, as though the heavens could no longer contain the sheer force of the attack.

The vampires below reacted instantly, instincts screaming, bodies surging into motion, but none could match Anthony’s new speed. The sky was already painted with death. Blue sword lines descended like celestial executions, engulfing all in their path, indiscriminate of age, gender, or status.

Their vision filled with streaks of azure light.

Then came the screams.

Shrill, maddened wails tore through the air as panic consumed them. Fear eclipsed pride. They tried to flee, to vanish, to shift into mist or shadows, but the sword barrage was relentless, infinite in its cruelty.

Flesh was carved apart.

Bodies were cleaved into pieces.

Even those who reformed through vampiric regeneration were given no reprieve, resurrected only to be butchered again, reduced to mangled remnants with every passing moment.

The strikes didn’t stop at the living.

They gouged through the earth itself, carving vast trenches into the crust of the planet. Gaping voids opened below, jagged and yawning, as if the very gates of hell were tearing themselves free in response to the slaughter above.

A suffocating stench of blood choked the air, mingling with clouds of dust and smoke as the sky rained down merciless judgment.

And the slicing never ceased.

Anthony observed the devastation below with calm detachment, yet a flicker of surprise touched his thoughts. For a planet that housed the descendants of the Second Supreme Monarch, he had expected… something.

Defensive protocols. Ancient wards. Divine countermeasures etched into the bones of the world itself. Anything befitting a lineage of such stature.

He had told his teammates he’d return within an hour or two, factoring in the resistance he anticipated.

But there was none.

No barriers flared to life.

No ancient guardians awakened.

No hidden formations rose to challenge him.

The entire planet had been left unguarded, shielded by nothing more than a name.

The Second Supreme Monarch had relied solely on reputation, trusting that the mere mention of his title was enough to ward off threats. And to many… it was. At that level, a name could shake empires and silence armies.

But not to Anthony.

To him, this was not wisdom. It was hubris, an arrogance so vast it bordered on delusion.

Even his own parents, both Supreme Monarchs in their own right, fortified the Null estate with layers of runes, arrays, and ancient protection. And that was a home, not an entire planet carrying the weight of their bloodline.

Within Anthony’s Sense Dome, countless mental calculations unfolded in the span of a heartbeat. Probability collapsed into certainty. A new reality was instantly projected, and manifested.

Across the battlefield, the air shimmered.

From the ground and fractured skies, blood twisted unnaturally, coalescing into crimson constructs. They morphed and solidified into humanoid forms, each one forged entirely from condensed blood essence. With fluid grace, they drew weapons, swords, spears, halberds, all dripping with killing intent.

Their numbers swelled, multiplying by the second, until the sky was filled with millions.

In unison, without a single command uttered, they launched themselves toward Anthony, an endless tide of scarlet warforms diving headlong into the heavens, weapons gleaming with violent purpose.

From below, the earth itself became a forge of blood. Swords, spears, and jagged constructs exploded upward, shrieking through the air with the force of artillery.

And yet… Anthony did not move.

He stood still, clearly unbothered. To him, their speed was glacial, their movements painfully slow. Even as millions surged toward him, they were no faster than drifting leaves in the wind.

After all, his base perception alone now rivaled that of a Supreme Monarch.

His hand rose gently, a smile tugging at his lips.

And then — stillness.

In a single instant, every blood construct froze midair. Motionless. Suspended like crimson statues in a sea of death.

And this wasn’t Infinity at work, no, it was something else.

Need your golden tickets… Please.