MIGHT AS WELL BE OP

Chapter 817: Consuming Guilt [Bonus Chapter]

”For a moment there, I thought you were going to spare him,” Kingsley spoke, his voice calm yet edged with curiosity as he observed the retreating figure of the woman.

”I don’t know her well enough to grant such favours,” Anthony replied, shaking his head subtly. Had someone like Aaaninja or Lucian asked, perhaps even Charles, or maybe Orion, he might have entertained the notion, but not for someone he had never encountered, someone who carried no prior bond with him.

”Well... he asked for it. He can only blame himself,” Vega stated, her voice smooth and controlled, her eyes shifting momentarily toward the human whose body she had subtly restrained with her presence. As she spoke, a quiet authority underlined her tone, ”you may leave.”

The man felt the oppressive presence vanish from his shoulder, an invisible weight lifting in an instant. Without hesitation, he retrieved a health potion from his space ring and drained it in a single, hurried gulp. Slowly, the injuries that marred his body began to knit themselves together. His shattered kneecaps realigned with a satisfying click, and his aching muscles seemed to release a long-held tension, as though exhaling relief into the cool air around him.

”Thank you,” he murmured softly, rising to his feet at last. Vega’s purple eyes met his once more, a brief nod acknowledging his gratitude, and then she looked away, silent and composed.

Around them, the humans who had been forced to kneel by the silver-haired man began to stir, gradually rising. The searing anger and humiliation that had consumed them dissipated, replaced by the quiet acceptance that the instigator of their suffering was no more.

Yet hesitation lingered in their movements. Uncertainty clouded their minds, an instinctive wariness that kept them from approaching the person who had intervened on their behalf. After a tense, fleeting pause, they made their choice: a brief gesture of thanks, and then a swift retreat from this forsaken place, a determination to never return.

As they began to move, Kingsley’s calm voice cut through the stillness. ”No need to approach,” he said, halting them mid-step. ”My advice: return to your rooms and remain there until the day after tomorrow, when the meeting begins. Death and torture do not pause in this place; they claim victims by the hour. Whether you listen to my words or not is your choice.”

Acknowledging his words, the humans inclined their heads in unison. Without further hesitation, they launched into the air, soaring with breathtaking speed toward the exit, leaving the scene behind in a blur of motion.

Vega’s eyes flicked toward Kingsley for a brief moment before she redirected her gaze, her attention now fixed on Anthony. ”What?” Kingsley asked flatly, sensing her scrutiny.

”Just surprised you decided to intervene,” Vega said, her tone casual yet edged with intrigue. ”Although sending them back to their rooms is the only viable solution, I suspect some of them had not anticipated such foresight.”

Kingsley remained silent for a moment, his expression thoughtful. Then, with a measured tone, he spoke. ”I know what its like to be weak and powerless, to exist at the mercy of others, to be entirely subject to the whims and control of those stronger than oneself,” he said quietly. ”But, had Anthony not acted to eliminate the silver-haired man, I would not have interfered at all.”

For an instant, a fleeting shadow of sadness crossed his features, vanishing almost immediately, yet Vega noticed the subtle shift. Though she did not know the details of his past, his words spoke volumes. From them, she inferred the contours of a tragic history, a life shaped by suffering, loss, and oppression, but she refrained from probing further. This was not the place for such revelations.

Kingsley’s thoughts drifted then, unbidden, to memories of his twin brother and the life they had shared. The love he had received, only to be cast aside moments later, he raised his hands, staring at them intently.

Previously, whenever he gazed upon his palms, he envisioned the blood of his fallen family, blood he had spilled, a crimson stain etched into his very being. But now, at this moment, when he looked, the hands seemed remarkably clear, untainted, no longer a canvas of past violence.

A faint, genuinely serene smile brushed his lips, lingering only for a moment before dissolving into his habitual apathetic expression. Though outwardly composed, an internal release had occurred: the burden of family, the weight of death, the consuming guilt that had long tormented him, had finally eased from his mind and heart.

But, he was not returned to the innocence of his youth, nor to the unburdened joy of the boy he had been prior to his awakening at the age of ten. He was a man now, over a century old, tempered by time and experience, bearing the permanence of adulthood and the awareness of mortality.

Anthony observed Kingsley quietly, a small, approving smile forming on his lips. Though Kingsley had revealed nothing of his inner transformation, Anthony had understood it, his insight granted by the Authority of Information. He felt genuine happiness that his friend had, at last, discovered a semblance of inner peace after an entire century weighed down by guilt.

’Too bad we can’t celebrate it,’ Anthony mused silently, amusement and a hint of wistfulness mingling in his thoughts.

Vega, meanwhile, maintained her composed silence, watching the two men without turning her head fully. Kingsley, however, was entirely absorbed in thought, unaware of Anthony’s subtle expression.

”Aren’t you going to challenge anyone? That seems to be what others are doing,” Anthony asked, turning his attention to Vega.

Vega’s gaze remained fixed ahead. After a brief pause, she shook her head in measured disinterest. ”Too bothersome,” she said casually, dismissive. Anthony nodded in understanding. Vega’s combat prowess had reached the Planetary level; confronting lesser opponents was a triviality, unworthy of her attention.

At that precise moment, a presence surged through the arena, heavy and oppressive, suffused with palpable killing intent. Anthony, Kingsley, and Vega instinctively turned toward the source. Three members of the Eclipsian race hovered above the arena, the air around them thick with hostility.

There was no need for conjecture: these were challengers, their motives clear. Nearly three years had passed since the delegates of the Blue Planet had slain the Eclipsian representatives, and vengeance had evidently arrived in full force.

”After this, we are leaving,” Anthony said decisively, his words met with silent, approving nods from both Vega and Kingsley.

’Shouldn’t they be seeking Lucian Darkheart? He was the one who killed their champion during the Starborn Tournament,’ Anthony reflected inwardly. Yet he knew the Eclipsians would not pursue Lucian directly. After all, Lucian’s parents were extraordinary powerhouses in their own right, standing among the uppermost echelons of interstellar influence despite their humanity.

”Human, we challenge you three to a—” one of the Eclipsians began, only to be abruptly interrupted. Anthony rose from his seat, his voice calm and flat. ”Let’s leave,” he said. Vega and Kingsley rose in unison, following his lead.

The moment the trio departed the arena, a violent, almost surreal scene unfolded. The three Eclipsians detonated violently, an overinflated surge of destruction, their bodies obliterated in a gruesome explosion.

Blood, organs, and shattered remnants rained through the air in a macabre display. From above, crimson droplets scattered, intestines splattered across the earth, and bones crumbled as they descended, striking the ground with a soft, sickening thud.

Yet, the origin of this horrifying spectacle, the one responsible for its creation, had already vanished. The scene of carnage was left behind, a testament to power and indifference. For Anthony, the lesson was clear: it was far wiser to heed Kingsley’s advice, retreating to the safety of one’s quarters, than to be entangled endlessly in the affairs of unknown adversaries with weak capabilities.