MIGHT AS WELL BE OP

"Honestly, I personally don't think you are even human at this point," Reynold remarked with a calm smile as he arrived with the rest of the team. His words were not intended as mockery, but rather as a genuine reflection of what everyone in the group had silently been thinking for some time.

Anthony, however, remained composed, his lips curving into a faint, almost playful smile as he turned to meet Reynold's gaze.

"You all look down on the human bloodline far too much. True, we may lack unique bloodline abilities or innate talent compared to other races, but you all seem to forget one important thing, humans are naturally gifted at adapting to everything they touch. We may not excel in one specific field by birthright, but we have the potential to master them all," Anthony replied calmly.

Reynold tilted his head slightly, but before he could speak, Seraphim interjected, her expression serious yet thoughtful. "It's not that we look down on the human bloodline, Anthony. That isn't the case. The problem is you. You're too abnormal, and so are the people you've chosen to surround yourself with. Think about it, your girlfriend is already at the Zenith Mana Rank, and she's either a year younger than you or the same age as you. That in itself is astonishing. And then there's Clement and Spectre, both equally young. Doesn't that strike you as strange?"

She paused briefly, gathering her thoughts before continuing, her tone growing sharper with every word. "And let's not forget Donna and Vivian. They cast area-of-effect spells spanning tens of kilometers as though it were child's play, as though they had infinite reserves of mana to draw upon. And those two aren't even your most prominent subordinates. We haven't even met the rest of them yet. Then there's Kingsley, nowadays, he doesn't even need to throw punches anymore. He waves his hands and ends battles in a single motion. Do you understand what I'm saying now? It isn't that we underestimate the human bloodline; it's that you, Anthony, and those around you, are simply too… overpowered."

Her conclusion hung heavy in the air.

Anthony blinked at her, genuinely stunned. He had grown so used to the presence of his companions that he rarely thought about how abnormal their collective strength must appear to others. But as he replayed her words in his mind, he couldn't deny the truth in them.

They were indeed overpowered.

He let out a small chuckle and, rather than argue, offered a lighthearted response. "That's the longest speech I've ever heard you give in one breath," he said with a smile, attempting to ease the tension her words had stirred.

Before anyone could laugh, another voice cut through the air, steady and calm. "After watching your battle, I think it's high time we sparred."

The words came from Kingsley. He stood a little apart from the group, his posture relaxed, but his golden eyes gleamed with a light that drew everyone's attention. His smile was calm, but there was something beneath it, an unshakable confidence that made the air feel heavy. The entire team instinctively turned to look at him.

For a long time, there had been whispers within the group, playful suggestions that Anthony and Kingsley should spar to determine who was truly stronger. But now, after Anthony's battle with Lilithra and the Demon King, a battle where he had revealed strength comparable to a Supreme Monarch, Kingsley's challenge struck them differently.

What exactly did it mean?

Was Kingsley suggesting that he, too, had reached the level of a Supreme Monarch? The thought sent ripples through the minds of everyone present.

Anthony's expression softened into a smile. He had expected this moment would come eventually. He knew Kingsley had been profoundly affected by his defeat at the hands of The Executioner during their first mission as a team, back when Anthony had just become captain.

Anthony had seen the way Kingsley pushed himself afterward, forcing his body, mind, and spirit beyond normal limits. He had noticed the changes, subtle at first, but steadily growing. He simply hadn't expected the changes to be this exaggerated.

But should he have been surprised?

Kingsley wielded the Concept of Destruction, and during the war against the Forsaken Cult members, Kingsley hadn't thrown a single punch. He had reduced enemies and alike into nothingness with the mere wave of his hand.

Kingsley was the universe's favored son. For someone like him, it was natural that after a single defeat, his combat prowess would skyrocket to unfathomable levels. In many ways, he was no different from the protagonist of a storybook, the kind of figure destiny bent itself around.

Anthony's piercing blue eyes locked with Kingsley's golden ones, and in that instant, sparks seemed to ignite in the air. There was no flaring of aura, no thunderous release of presence, yet it felt as if their battle intent had collided invisibly.

The very air seemed to tremble and wail under the unspoken pressure, reaching the ears of their teammates as an echo of something far greater.

The standoff lingered, tension thickening until Anthony broke it with a smile. "Another time," he said softly, his tone steady but smooth. "Not now. There are too many things to be done."

Kingsley inclined his head slightly. "I know," he replied simply. Deep down, he too understood the timing was wrong. Even if Anthony had agreed to fight here and now, Kingsley would have refused. He wanted Anthony at his peak, unburdened, unbroken. Only then would their clash have meaning.

The rest of the team exchanged glances, their imaginations running wild. The thought of two planetary-level beings in their group was staggering. They couldn't help but look forward to the inevitable clash, wondering whether Kingsley had indeed reached the same heights as their captain.

For Dale, Seraphim, and Reynold, however, the moment stirred more complicated emotions. Their hearts thudded erratically, as though unsure how to process what they were witnessing. Envy, admiration, awe, and despair all swirled together within them.

It wasn't merely that Anthony, their captain, had touched a level of power that seemed impossible to them. Now Kingsley, too, stood at that same level. But the sting went deeper.

It was about talent, about potential.

Within their team, Vega, Spectre, and Clement clearly possessed the talent required to someday reach planetary-level heights, provided they were given enough resources. Even Vivian and Donna, who had only recently joined, seemed to possess a similar level of potential.

Which meant that soon, the entire team might one day stand shoulder to shoulder as planetary-level beings, traversing the galaxy and etching their names across the stars.

But what about them, Dale, Seraphim, and Reynold?

How far could their limited talent take them, if it hadn't already reached its ceiling? True, there were treasures in existence capable of raising one's talent, but did treasures powerful enough to elevate them to planetary-level heights truly exist?

And even if they did, would such treasures be sufficient for three people? And even if they were, what wealth, what influence, did the three of them possess to obtain such miracles?

An invisible line seemed to be forming within the group, a thin but undeniable boundary that separated priceless gems from ordinary diamonds.

Dale often spoke about connections, about how their friendship with Anthony could serve as a ladder to the top. But deep down, even he wasn't naive enough to believe Anthony would simply elevate them to the level of Warlords without the necessary combat power to justify it.

After all, the Warlords were symbols. They were heralds of the Supreme Monarchs, beings who stood just beneath the gods themselves. To sit among them without the strength to back it up would not only be an insult to Anthony, but an insult to the very title itself.