MIGHT AS WELL BE OP Chapter 873: Pass Down

While a multitude of beings searched the wreckage for the remains of fallen comrades and kin, others refrained from the somber task. This was not due to a lack of heart, but rather the simple fact that their ranks remained whole. They were, quite literally, built differently.

The Celestial Race, commanded by Zachary, served as a prime example. Five members of the Older Generation drifted through the vacuum, their countenances remaining poised and steady. Despite bearing visible wounds, every individual had survived. None of them touched their costly health potions; they were well aware that a cost-free, complete restoration awaited them upon returning to their home planets. For figures of their status, patience held more worth than temporary relief.

Riven’s unit was another such group. Riven, his wife Vespera, and the Humans under his command had endured the conflict with startling ease. Not a single soul among them had perished despite the sheer brutality and massive scale of the Galactic Conquest.

Several other races within the top ten rankings had also suffered negligible casualties, losing only one or two members at most. When compared to the total annihilation of the lower and mid-tier races, their survival was a testament to their overwhelming dominance.

Riven and Vespera shifted their attention toward Zachary and his wife, Nyxss. Without a word, the pair lunged forward. Moving as a blur, they traversed the void instantly to land upon an asteroid where Zachary stood. He remained unbothered and composed, even as the scenery of apocalyptic ruin stretched out in every direction.

"HAHAHAHA! Zachary, how are you feeling today?" Riven’s boisterous voice echoed through the silence. Arcs of lightning flickered across his skin, dancing with a restless energy. Even though the cosmic war was over, his battle intent continued to blaze. It had been quite some time since he had experienced such thrill.

Zachary’s stoic face shifted at the sound of Riven’s greeting—first into a smirk, and finally into a wide, knowing grin. He understood that Riven wasn't inquiring about his health. Riven was never one for such trivial small talk. He was asking how Zachary felt after finally engaging in a battle of such magnitude after centuries of peace.

Though Zachary was famous for his steady nature, Riven always possessed the knack for provoking his hidden, battle-hungry side. It was expected, given how long their history stretched back.

In contrast to almost everyone on the battlefield, Riven lacked any injuries worth noting. It appeared as if the Galactic Conquest was too minor an event to even draw his blood.

However, that wasn't the full truth.

Riven held a terrifying ability: he healed himself through the act of killing. This wasn't a matter of absorbing life force or blood; rather, the very process of destruction mended his body. Even if he were on the brink of death, he only needed to annihilate a few random planets to return to his peak condition effortlessly.

"I feel..." Zachary trailed off, tilting his head as he searched for the right description. His grin grew wider. "...How should I put this? Terrific."

He spoke with total sincerity, completely indifferent to the mourning figures around them. The sorrow of strangers did not move him. Even if he had known them, familiarity rarely swayed a man of his caliber.

Upon hearing Zachary’s reply, Riven’s battle intent erupted like a pressurized vessel bursting. The lightning surrounding his frame intensified, casting a manic light into the dark void. A surge of fervor and madness washed over him.

Zachary didn't flinch.

He only smiled.

He understood the signal perfectly. Riven was challenging him to a duel right then and there. Words were unnecessary. Having known Riven for so long, Zachary could read his intentions without a single syllable.

Meanwhile, Vespera and Nyxss looked at one another and sighed in unison. They were well-acquainted with this behavior. Their husbands had always been battle-crazed maniacs who couldn't help themselves.

Paying the men no further mind, Vespera and Nyxss moved to the far side of the moon.

A table was summoned onto the lunar surface with a mere thought. A teapot and a set of arranged cups appeared alongside it. With refined movements, they poured tea for one another and sat down.

"It has been a long time," Nyxss remarked softly, her expression calm as she took a sip.

Vespera smiled back. "It truly has. We haven't crossed paths since the Starborn Tournament. Three years have already passed." She set her cup back down gently.

While their husbands were often violent rivals, the two women shared no such enmity. They were simply friends.

They spent the time laughing and sharing stories about their lives, planets, and children. Their relationship was defined by mutual respect and appreciation, free from hidden tensions or competition.

Nyxss looked toward a distant group where Aaaninja, Anthony, and Lucian stood with Aura, Kingsley, and Vega. "The Younger Generation can't really be called that anymore," she noted thoughtfully.

Vespera followed her friend's gaze, looking at the group surrounding her son. "Indeed," she whispered. A soft smile touched her lips as she watched Lucian joke around—a rare sight for someone of his temperament.

"It looks like the rivalry will be passed from our husbands to our sons," Vespera added, letting out a soft chuckle.

Nyxss offered a faint smile. "That will be a sight to see... though, it has already begun. It started back at the Starborn Tournament." She looked at her son, Aaaninja, with a blend of concern and pride.

Throughout the war, unlike Zachary and Riven, Vespera and Nyxss had kept their focus primarily on their children. Even though they knew their sons possessed planetary-scale strength, they were still mothers. Worry was as natural to them as breathing.

"It seems we don't have to watch over them quite so closely now," Vespera said, her voice filled with a quiet sense of finality.

Nyxss nodded, a warm smile on her face.

Though they sat and chatted as if everything were normal, their physical states suggested otherwise. Both women were covered in wounds, their clothes stained with blood that dripped slowly onto the moon’s dust.

Neither of them paid the injuries any attention.

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