MIGHT AS WELL BE OP

Chapter 839: Void Lord

Anthony’s body tore through space as he stepped out of the portal, his form gliding through the void of the Galaxy with a calm, almost effortless grace. His eyes swept to the side, taking in the imposing figures of the First Supreme Monarch, the Third Supreme Monarch, Collins, Michael, Mitchelle, Kingsley, and Vega, each floating with a weightless poise in the void.

His gaze shifted again, this time scanning the vast expanse surrounding him. Millions of beings floated in the void, with countless more stepping out from portals that appeared and shimmered into existence at staggering speeds. Each second, new figures emerged, their forms glinting in the scattered light of distant stars. Minutes passed, yet the stream of arrivals seemed endless until, finally, one by one, each portal began to collapse, folding in on itself, signaling that all who were to arrive had now materialized.

The Overseer emerged last, stepping from the final portal as it closed silently behind him.

”Let us move. I have opened the portal a short distance from the Tear in reality,” he explained, his voice carrying a calm authority that cut through the calm void. ”The unstabilized zone surrounding the Tear is highly volatile. Any proximity to it risks interference with the portal itself, as well as the surrounding space-time fabric. This instability could prove fatal to many.”

Without a word, the assembly of beings acknowledged his warning, their understanding implicit in the solemn nods that passed between them. Then, without hesitation, the Overseer surged forward at a speed that rendered him almost invisible, vanishing in an instant. The crowd reacted instinctively, tearing through the void in a synchronized burst, their collective momentum propelling them toward the Tear in reality. Millions of figures surged as one, slicing through the Galaxy’s void with breathtaking speed.

The younger generation watched in awe, their senses overwhelmed. Though they had seen the Galaxy many times before, it was always through the reinforced glass of their aircraft. Now, they were immersed, weightless and unshielded, skimming past celestial bodies in an intimate dance with the cosmos.

Anthony, Vega, Kingsley, Aaaninja, Lucian, and Aura remained unfazed, cutting through the void with fluidity and purpose. Unlike some, their forms radiated no energy cloaks or any form of protection. Anthony’s gaze shifted briefly to Aura; she was withstanding the oppressive void effortlessly, a testament to her attainment of the Planetary level of Existence.

Anthony’s eyes then moved to Charles, who flew alongside, shielded meticulously by Rain. Even Bills was being safeguarded, his position closely monitored by those capable of enveloping him in protective energy.

The Overseer pressed onward, his velocity a stark challenge to all who followed. Many of the older generations, despite their formidable strength, struggled to maintain pace. Their eyes and heightened senses allowed them to navigate the void, but only barely. Without such guidance, they might have been lost entirely, swallowed by the vastness of space.

Eventually, the Overseer slowed, his momentum easing until he came to a complete stop. Instantly, every figure in his proximity followed suit, halting in the void. Faces that had anticipated this moment now bore deep, somber frowns.

Before them yawned a scene of cosmic horror: a Tear in reality, a gaping wound in the very fabric of existence, stretching with jagged edges that shimmered with violet and obsidian light. The rift pulsated with a life of its own, chaotic and raw, where space, time, and energy fractured uncontrollably. Void within the tear stretched infinitely, devouring light, matter, and hope alike, while time and mana twisted in unpredictable rhythms, defying comprehension.

Around the wound, space itself shimmered like broken glass suspended in stasis. Strands of violet and obsidian energy coiled outward erratically, their movements wild and untamed, while the surrounding air cracked and snapped with jagged fissures that opened and closed without warning.

Mana scattered in chaotic bursts; every breath drawn in the vicinity felt oppressively heavy. Time itself stuttered and stammered in resonance with the Tear’s unstable pulse, as if reality hesitated to continue its flow.

The frowns of the older generations deepened with each passing moment. They had learned from history, from the countless lives sacrificed in exploration of dangerous zones. Their bodies, though capable of withstanding immense void and unstable space, were ill-prepared for the magnitude of the spectacle before them. This was not merely perilous, it was insanity given form. How could anyone survive within such volatile chaos? They questioned, the thought almost unbearable. Were those who dared enter here blind to reason?

From the distance, a series of low, resonant booms echoed as new figures streaked forward. Their features revealed their origin: the Voidwalker race. In an instant, ten of them knelt upon the void itself, treating the empty expanse as a tangible surface. ”We greet the Void Lord,” they intoned in unison, their voices firm and reverent.

The Overseer’s eyes, cold and apathetic, shifted to them. ”Any new developments?” His tone remained flat, unflinching.

”No, Void Lord,” they responded in perfect harmony, their bodies skill lowered to their knees.

”You may leave,” the Overseer commanded, and with a blink, the ten vanished, dissolving into nothingness. The assembly needed no further explanation; it was understood that these Voidwalkers had been stationed to guard the Tear from intrusions, from Angels or others who might cross into their Galaxy.

A murmur ran through the crowd. ”To think three of these exist...” one voice whispered, awe and fear intertwining.

”What should we do next?” another asked, her eyes fixed on the vast, ravenous rift. From their position kilometers away, the Tear seemed almost alive, consuming the very reality around it with insatiable hunger.

”First, we must bolster security around the Tears. Ten Voidwalkers are insufficient. We should increase the number to a hundred,” a member of the Celestial race finally spoke, his tone measured and cautious.

”We should be thinking about closing it, not merely fortifying it,” countered a Netherborn of the older generation, her voice sharp, almost brittle with frustration.

The Celestial who had spoken first turned to face her. ”Do not delude yourself. Closing this Tear is beyond even our combined might. Its foundations are etched too deeply into the layers of reality itself.”

The Netherborn squinted, frustration tempered with reluctant acknowledgment. They could not truly seal the Tear, not yet. But to do nothing would be equally catastrophic. Each moment the Tear remained, the reality around it weakened, and the danger grew exponentially. They had to act, or at the very least, prepare for what was to come.