MIGHT AS WELL BE OP Chapter 969: Different
Previously on MIGHT AS WELL BE OP...
Anthony reached the area where the audience was gathered, with Kingsley halting just behind him since the two had essentially shown up together.
"Why the intense stares and expressions?" Anthony remarked while locking eyes with the group using his striking blue gaze. "Sure, I'm good-looking and towering, but guys aren't my thing," he quipped with a grin, letting his self-absorbed streak emerge, his voice playful and over-the-top on purpose, obviously aiming to break through the heavy atmosphere that hung after the earlier clash.
The group brushed off his final remark without a second thought, as no one viewed him that way, and besides, he was just fooling around to ease the vibe.
"I've mentioned it once and I'll repeat it: you appear far too informed for a guy from such a basic world—where on earth did you pick up all that info?" Aaaninja inquired, his interest truly piqued. Having devoted much of his existence to poring over tomes in his clan's archive, devouring endless accounts, chronicles, and taboo writings, he had never encountered the tales Anthony mentioned, or even hints of the profound details he tossed out so effortlessly.
Anthony turned his blue eyes to Aaaninja, ready to fib about discovering the wisdom in some lost ancient site, but then he reconsidered—why bother with deceit, and really, why respond to Aaaninja's query when such details were pointless weights that only muddied things up.
"Call me Null Anthony, that's all there is to know," he declared while settling into his spot with a composed look, draping one leg across the other and flashing an easy smile, as if those words wrapped it up neatly without needing more, his aura projecting a deep, unshakable assurance that warded off extra questions.
Kingsley stayed silent, merely taking his place on the hovering chair, and instantly, cheers poured in from all sides, given his back-to-back advancements in such a brief period—anyone watching could grasp the sheer absurdity of it, a feat that typically demanded years now squeezed into mere moments.
Anthony remained seated with a subtle grin as Lucian and the others probed if he could trigger the Martial Rhythm for them, sparing the hassle and toil, their tones blending jest with earnestness, yet Anthony merely declined with a shake of his head.
Indeed, pulling off what they sought would be a breeze for him, but he refused to indulge them, no matter the price. Doing so would render his boon to Kingsley utterly worthless, and he had zero desire to diminish anything so invaluable.
Lucian let out a frustrated tsk, since in ordinary circumstances, he'd just duplicate the Martial Rhythm via his Absolute Copy without pause, but this bunch defied all norms and standards, rendering his power potentially useless, so he figured it best to drop it.
That realization drew a sigh from him, as encountering these folks always made his prized Absolute Copy feel less than flawless, a truth that grated on him deeper than he'd let on.
Anthony directed his blue eyes at Klaus, who perched there with the poise and bearing of a ruler, one leg over the other, lids shut like he was deeply immersed. He offered no words or reactions, which wasn't his style at all, for he typically dropped a quip post-bout, be it acclaim, nitpick, or wry wit.
Amara, familiar with her spouse's ways, gazed at him briefly before shaking her head, aware that this quiet from him spelled trouble, as such hush often signaled plotting or an impending wildly bold move. Moments ticked by, and Klaus's eyes parted gradually, his dark irises returning to the world, calm and inscrutable.
His hand lifted, and in that instant, it emerged—the very same neutral light Anthony had first unveiled to the assembly and imparted to Kingsley by shoving him near oblivion, a subtle but clear shimmer that lacked force yet brimmed with an elusive essence.
Klaus, an enigma beyond all else in existence, appeared to have seized it merely through observation, attention, and insight, as if the idea itself had eagerly unveiled its truths to him, yielding smoothly to his grasp.
Klaus lounged there like it was everyday stuff while pulling off what this era's oddities couldn't manage. "Not bad at all," he uttered at last, gaze fixed on the Martial Rhythm. He had no clue how Anthony encountered such lore, but it held zero importance for him, since outcomes were all that counted.
All gazes turned to Klaus as if he ascended to divine status among mortals. No one fathomed his method, clueless on his actions. Hold on—had he even acted? He just sat with eyes shut, then invoked the Martial Rhythm like it was natural as inhaling.
Klaus further cemented his stature, proving that amid these freaks, he stood unparalleled, a being who loomed silently superior without fanfare.
"No need to dwell on it—you can all reach this level. I've just got more practice," Klaus said with a faint smirk, eyeing the awestruck crowd, his remark offhand but laced with rock-solid assurance.
Aura Nova, Aaaninja, and Lucian felt fresh resolve flare in their stares as they fixed on the neutral light in Klaus's hand, their rivalry sparked, unwilling to yield to the divide without a fight.
'Typical of the novel's ultimate powerhouse,' Lucian mused inwardly while gazing at Klaus in wonder, 'Curious if the writer has dropped his backstory by now,' he pondered, as Klaus ranked as the mightiest figure the creator had unveiled, barring enigmas like ??? and Romulus, entities still veiled in secrecy.
[Host, skip trying to grasp the Martial Rhythm—you can't awaken it. Anthony and Klaus stand apart]
A robotic alert rang in his head. Lucian halted his musing briefly, then dismissed it with a head shake; the system's advice was just that—advice—and he'd never bowed to constraints without resistance.
"On with the matches—I expect even wilder spectacles," Klaus's words resounded as the neutral light on his hand faded away entirely, merging back into void like it never was.
At once, the display ignited, the standard five figures materializing, before it whirled through the numerals swiftly, ensuring no prior pair repeated exactly, tension building subtly among the watchers.
Before long, it stopped, revealing a duo of digits.
Two Versus Three.
Lucian Darkheart Versus Aaaninja Chronisynth Eternos.