MIGHT AS WELL BE OP

At the back of the trio's minds, a single thought lingered like an echo that refused to fade: Anthony must have possessed something, some hidden resource or artifact, that had allowed him to elevate the talent of his subordinates to such extraordinary levels.

It seemed inconceivable otherwise. How could the world, vast as it was, produce ten individuals of such staggering talent at once, and not just scattered across races and Domains, but gathered together under one captain, within a single team?

The world could indeed birth such prodigies, but naturally, they would emerge across different lands, among diverse peoples, over spans of centuries. Not here. Not in one place, not in one race, not under the leadership of a single man.

And yet, here they stood, Anthony's subordinates, each one a living anomaly.

Still, this suspicion remained only that: a thought.

They had no evidence to prove Anthony possessed such world-shattering treasures, nor that he had secretly used them to mold his companions into monstrous geniuses. It was just speculation, the restless whisper of despair mingled with reason.

But even if, by some chance, Anthony truly did possess such treasures, what could they possibly do? Were they to walk up to him and demand that he use them on them as well?

On what basis would they make such a claim? Friendship? Loyalty? Please. They were not so naive as to believe that would be enough.

The only other possibility was to defeat him and seize such resources by force. But even in the privacy of their own thoughts, they scoffed at the absurdity of that notion. How laughable would it be to imagine that even a coordinated sneak attack could so much as graze Anthony?

They might as well try to wound the stars.

And so their thoughts swirled endlessly, a storm without release, while their emotions twisted erratically within their chests. But outwardly, they revealed nothing. Their faces wore calm smiles, their voices mingled with the rest of the team, their gestures were natural, measured. To any casual observer, they were as composed as ever.

But within, their doubts screamed. Their thoughts gnawed. Their inadequacy festered.

The trio did not realize, however, that they were not alone in their silent turmoil. Unbeknownst to them, all three had arrived at the exact same thought at the exact same time, their doubts and frustrations aligning like shadows cast by the same sun.

Yet for all their practiced facades, such illusions were useless before the likes of Anthony and Vega.

Anthony possessed the All Seeing Eyes, and Vega bore the Eyes of the World. Both were not mere ornaments, but transcendent gifts, capable of perceiving emotions as clearly as others might perceive color or sound.

To such eyes, the trio's carefully concealed unrest was transparent, their emotions laid bare, their hearts unable to hide behind smiles.

At this very moment, Anthony and Vega could sense everything, their doubts, their sadness, their insecurity. Neither needed telepathy to know exactly what Dale, Reynold, and Seraphim were thinking. They had pieced it together in a heartbeat.

But neither spoke a word.

Anthony remained silent, and Vega followed his example. It was not their place to interfere, not their burden to lift. Some things were better left untouched, better left to resolve themselves, or to fester into lessons only experience could carve into the soul.

Vega's purple eyes shifted briefly toward Anthony, questioning, searching for his stance.

In reply, Anthony gave the smallest of gestures, a simple shake of his head. No words were needed. A silent conversation passed between them, a mutual understanding flowing effortlessly between two love birds.

Anthony had already made his decision.

He would not intervene.

Yes, he had the means to help them. Yes, he could raise their talent, elevate their potential, and perhaps even carry them to the very heights of the planetary level where the others were destined to stand. But he would not. He could not.

To many, this choice might have seemed selfish, even cruel. They would argue that as captain, as a friend, it was his responsibility to uplift his comrades. Yet Anthony's refusal came not from neglect, but from something deeper, something harder.

If he stepped in now, if he offered them an easy path, what then? What of the next time? And the time after that? Would he always be there to save them? To pull them upward when the gulf widened?

No. Such a path was no path at all.

If he helped them by handing them strength, he would cripple them for the future. They would never learn to fight against the ceiling of their own limits. They would never learn to claw for opportunity, to forge destiny with their own blood and will. And without that, they would never stand as true equals.

It was better, though harsher, to leave them to their own struggle. Better that they confront their inadequacy now than live forever as hollow shells propped up by another's power.

Better to let them find their own path, however painful it might be.

Time seemed to move slowly as the team conversed among themselves, trading lighthearted laughter and recounting personal anecdotes. Each spoke of their battles during the war, of the foes they had slain and the means by which they had struck them down.

Their joy was heavy, and rightly so. The Forsaken Cult, an insidious blight that had plagued their Blue Planet for centuries, had at last been eradicated.

Though the conflict had ended swiftly, largely due to the intervention of the Domain leaders, such details mattered little to them. What mattered was the dawn of peace that now loomed on the horizon.

No longer would there be trafficking on a monstrous scale. The haunting tide of missing persons would recede. People could once more walk beneath the stars without fear, and parents would no longer cling so desperately to their children in the dark of night.

It was not complete world peace, not the perfect stillness of a flawless world, but it was the closing of a dark chapter, and they had been among those who had written its final line.

There was no feeling greater than this.