MIGHT AS WELL BE OP Chapter 882: Military Group

As Anthony, Aaaninja, Lucian, Aura Nova, Vega, and Kingsley engaged in their discussions, the Older Generation also convened separately. They huddled together, standing on the desolate, shattered surface of a star, its faint cosmic glow casting their figures in relief against the boundless void.

"What exactly is our next move?" inquired a Vampire, her posture exuding an almost hypnotic grace. Despite having just emerged from a life-threatening conflict, her body appeared pristine, untouched by wounds or scarring. Yet, no one present was deceived. While her physical injuries had vanished, the deeper damage to her essence, far more challenging to mend, still lingered beneath the surface.

The Overseer, calmly floating amidst them, then spoke. "During the meeting, towards its conclusion, I intended to propose the formation of a military organization, pairing everyone into structured teams."

"What possible benefit could that provide?" a Celestial race member questioned, his tone filled with skepticism. "The Younger Generation holds no utility in the true battle ahead."

"This military group is not intended for the Younger Generation," the Overseer calmly responded. "It is for us. I am certain you are all aware that many of you cannot independently defeat a single Eleven-Winged Angel, let alone a Twelve-Winged Angel. We don't even know if a Thirteenth-Winged Angel exists, or the true power of their so-called God." His voice remained unwavering, yet the gravity of his words settled heavily upon everyone present.

A silence descended as they absorbed his declaration. After a brief pause, the Overseer continued, "I am sure everyone would prefer to collaborate with members of their own race. However, I propose that each group comprises diverse races. With varied abilities complementing one another, we can better withstand unexpected tactics and strategies they might deploy."

He paused momentarily before proceeding. "Naturally, the Younger Generation and other lower-tier forces would be assigned to their own military groups. After all, the Divinora Galaxy will not be populated solely by Planetary-level beings. There will also be weaker entities and races, ones I am certain they will utilize as cannon fodder."

Everyone frowned at this prospect. None desired to be grouped with other races, especially those they barely trusted, but they could not dispute the truth in the Overseer’s words.

"There are literally trillions upon trillions of individuals," stated the First Supreme Monarch, his brows furrowing. As a military commander, he grasped the immense scale of the proposal. "How much time will it take to organize something of this magnitude? We are mobilizing entire races, along with members from countless powerhouses."

"We begin with the Planetary-level beings, then proceed downwards," Zachary interjected from the side. "Since we are the strongest and will serve as the vanguard, it is prudent to first get our own affairs in order, in case of another unforeseen assault." At his words, several individuals nodded in agreement.

"How, then, will we determine the leader of each group?" another person inquired.

Eyes immediately fixated on the speaker, many filled with disbelief, as if gazing at an imbecile. "Is it not self-evident?" someone finally retorted, their tone undeniably condescending. "Whoever is the most powerful within the group assumes leadership."

"We will also require Mana Contracts," Riven calmly added from the side. "These will prevent sudden betrayals, surprise attacks, or intentional misdirection." No one disputed this suggestion. Although they were currently united, countless methods existed for team members to eliminate one another without direct confrontation.

Someone tasked with blocking an attack could simply feign the motion, allowing the strike to pass through and fatally wound their teammate instead. Though they hadn't directly attacked, they would have manipulated the situation to lethal effect.

No one present was naive enough to fully trust in camaraderie under such circumstances. Yes, solidarity might emerge in the heat of battle, but not to the extent of selflessly risking one's life for another without hesitation. Survival always remained the paramount concern.

"What about them?" someone questioned.

At that query, everyone lifted their heads, their gazes ascending to where Anthony and his companions floated serenely in the void.

To say they were astonished would be an understatement. Initially, they had believed that only Aaaninja had achieved the Planetary level. Yet now, with their own eyes, they could clearly discern that several others from the Younger Generation had ascended to that same realm.

While the Younger Generation had initially withdrawn to safety, they had remained, ultimately emerging victorious from their battles without sustaining any visible injuries.

Envy stirred in the hearts of many present as they observed Anthony, Lucian, Aaaninja, Aura Nova, Kingsley, and Vega. Their talent was simply extraordinary. If any of the Older Generation possessed such potential, they would not need to form teams merely to confront a single Eleven-Winged Angel. They could only sigh at the perceived unfairness of the galaxy.

"I suppose the adage that the new generation will surpass the old was not uttered without reason," a man from the Luminari race murmured, his gaze fixed on the younger stars hovering above them.

"I must concede, your Blue Planet has been ascending far too rapidly since the Starborn Tournament," the Overseer remarked, his gaze shifting towards Mitchelle, the woman who had bypassed his Void Dimension.

A gentle smile touched Mitchelle’s lips. She was immensely proud of her son, Anthony. What mother would not feel pride witnessing their own child forge history before the eyes of the galaxy?

"Even disregarding someone like Anthony," the Overseer continued, "to think that two others almost as preposterous as him exist..." His black eyes then moved to Kingsley, from whom he could not detect even a trace of mana or energy. His gaze then shifted to Vega. While she possessed considerable power, she was still weaker than him. As for her beauty, the Overseer was not Azarion Starweaver. He was an individual solely concerned with battle, bloodshed, and carnage. Beauty? Could beauty withstand a punch from him?

"It seems I may need to journey to the Blue Planet soon," he finally added, as if determined to uncover the secrets that made that planet so exceptional.

The Older Generation from the Blue Planet, such as the First Supreme Monarch, Michael, and Collins, remained largely unperturbed. Following the battle, both the First Supreme Monarch and the Third Supreme Monarch were battered, their bodies bearing numerous injuries.

As members of the same faction and planet, they had formed their own team simply to ensure their survival. They could not afford to place their trust in individuals they had only just met hours prior. The Third Supreme Monarch was a Titan, a race that thrived on and reveled in battle. Even as he stood upon the star now, his mind replayed moments from the fight repeatedly.

As for the ongoing meeting, he paid scant attention. His thoughts were entirely consumed by the Ten-Winged Angel with whom he had exchanged blows and devastating attacks.

A slow smile spread across his brown lips. This had been his inaugural experience on such a grand stage, and yet it was already unforgettable. Though he had participated in many Planetary-level battlefields previously, none had been linked to a full-scale Galactic Conquest.

He could not help but anticipate the coming war. Though he recognized that the next wave of adversaries would be stronger, and that he himself still had shortcomings, this did nothing to quell his anticipation or battle intent. Instead, he embraced it wholeheartedly.

To him, this was nothing less than an opportunity: a chance to ascend higher on the path of power and cultivation.