"You may proceed."

As those words left his lips, they did not merely echo, they resonated like a sundering thunderclap that ruptured through the ears and souls of the Supreme Monarchs. Each syllable carried weight, not of mana, nor aura, nor any known force, but of authority. It was as though Anthony had spoken from a throne above the stars themselves, his words pressing down like an imperial decree that no law could contest.

Their shock soared, rising relentlessly as though striving to reach a peak that did not exist. "You may proceed." Those three words implied something far greater than simple permission. It was a declaration, an unspoken proclamation that he held dominion over this space, over this council, over them. As though the Eight Supreme Monarchs, existences revered by all within the military, now required his consent to speak.

For a moment, silence consumed the entire hidden realm.

And not an ordinary silence, a suffocating, soul-scraping stillness that stretched like an encroaching tide of ink, blotting out sound, thought, and even time. It was a silence that was maddening, a silence that clawed at the skin like cold iron, a silence that was louder than any possible noise.

But Anthony did not repeat himself. He had made his entrance. He had taken his place. The stage was set, and it was no longer his duty to speak, it was theirs. He had watched their discussion earlier. Now, it was time to join the performance… and eventually, to decide how it would end.

In that oppressive stillness, three expressions shifted first.

The shock vanished from the faces of the Fifth, Eighth, and Ninth Supreme Monarchs.

Michael's lips pulled into a wide grin, unrestrained pride surging through every fiber of his being. His eyes, sharp and luminous like celestial blades drawn from their sheath, gleamed with satisfaction. His son. His blood. His baby monster who had now ascended to a height that even beings like them would hesitate to acknowledge.

Mitchelle smiled as well. Her gaze softened, motherly affection swirling like a serene tide within her blue irises. Her smile was calm, unhurried, yet radiant with joy. She did not need to boast. Her pride existed in every heartbeat, in every breath she took as she watched her child stand above all without bowing his head to anyone.

Collins, the one known across countless worlds as a being of few words, did not laugh, nor speak. But the corner of his lips lifted ever so slightly, a rare and almost imperceptible smile stretching his face. A faint nod, subtle and nearly missed, revealed more than words could. His Null bloodline, his family, had reached a height that made his ancient soul tremble in satisfaction.

His wife, his son, his daughter-in-law, and now his grandson…

In that moment, Collins felt no envy, no fear, only fulfillment.

To him, he was the most blessed father and grandfather in existence.

The silence, however, persisted among the others. It lingered, clinging like a stubborn shadow that refused to dissipate. It became clear that none of them wished to be the first to speak, for doing so would be an acknowledgment, an unspoken submission, to Anthony's declaration.

Finally, the First Supreme Monarch broke the stillness.

"It's been a while, Major Anthony," he intoned, his voice calm yet carrying the weight of ages.

His mind drifted briefly to their first meeting. At that time, he had referred to Anthony as 'young one,' for he was indeed young, both in body and power. But he did not use that term now. Age meant nothing before the crushing presence of existence. In this council, power alone defined seniority, not time spent living.

To call him young one now would be a disgrace, and perhaps, a declaration of hostility.

"We meet again, First Supreme Monarch," Anthony replied, his tone neither warm nor cold, simply final.

The First Supreme Monarch gave a slight nod, accepting the response as acknowledgment. He then spoke with clarity, "We were discussing your matter, about you becoming the Tenth Supreme Monarch."

"I know," Anthony said, his voice steady as his sky-blue eyes locked onto the golden-ringed eyes of the First. "I heard and saw it all."

He paused, gaze calm and serene.

"But it seems the Second Supreme Monarch disagrees. I wonder… why that is."

He turned his head slightly, his eyes now settling upon the Second Supreme Monarch.

The Second Supreme Monarch's blood-red eyes met his gaze with perfect calmness. No flicker of emotion, no ripple of wrath, not even the faintest twitch. His face was the epitome of composure, the kind that could only be forged through millennia of domination over self.

But Anthony saw through it.

He saw the hate simmering beneath that expressionless mask, a hate that burned quietly like a smoldering sun hidden beneath a frozen sea. Rage. Madness. A festering wound that had never healed. But not even a single spark of that emotion escaped the Second Supreme Monarch's controlled demeanor. Such was the terrifying mastery of a man who had lived far too long.

Anthony remembered the grudge clearly. He planned to settle it, fully, shortly. But he was in no rush. He would allow this performance to unfold. He would enjoy it. And then, he would bring the curtain down… permanently.

"It seems he still holds a grudge for you severing his arm, Major Anthony," the First Supreme Monarch said, his voice neutral, with no judgment attached.

Anthony did not immediately respond. His silence lingered for a moment before he finally spoke, "So, you were going to vote. How unprecedented."

Before the First could reply, the Third Supreme Monarch, the colossal Titan whose frame dwarfed even the hidden realm's celestial horizon, spoke in a deep rumble, "Indeed, it is unprecedented. After all, we have never encountered such a situation before."

Anthony's eyes briefly shifted toward the Titan. "True," he said simply.

The other Supreme Monarchs remained silent, their thoughts already accepted. Deep down, they had already understood, Anthony would ascend to Supreme Monarchship. Whether they approved or not, the outcome had already been etched into the tapestry of the moment.

Their only choice was whether they wished to extend goodwill now, or risk kneeling later.

"But there seems to be a misunderstanding, Supreme Monarchs," Anthony said.

Brows lifted. Expressions shifted ever so subtly. Even the stars above seemed to lean closer, curious about the direction of his words.

Anthony's gaze swept across them slowly.

Then, he asked;

"Who said I needed or wanted the title of Supreme Monarch?"

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