MIGHT AS WELL BE OP

Before the Eclipsians could even make their move, another powerful aura descended, commanding the attention of all present.

Every gaze turned toward the source of this overwhelming presence.

"Are you interfering, Celestials?"

The Eclipsian, who had obliterated an entire planet without so much as lifting a finger, spoke with an air of detached authority.

His piercing gaze shifted gracefully toward the Celestials, radiating both curiosity and veiled hostility.

Aaaninja's father, his expression neutral but laced with zero tension, responded in a neutral tone.

"I am not interfering. But do not sow chaos during the Starborn Tournament simply because your champion was defeated and you've lost all hope of claiming the resources"

Zachary, unfazed by the Eclipsian's display of power, stepped forward, his eyes locking with the Eclipsian's in a display of unyielding resolve.

"But"

Zachary continued, his tone sharp with unwavering certainty.

"If you persist in disrupting this event, I won't hesitate to put you in your place"

His words carried the weight of undeniable truth, spoken with calm, calculated authority that left no room for doubt.

The Eclipsian delegate stood poised, his composure unshaken as his piercing gaze fixed on Zachary.

A flicker of killing intent ignited in his eyes, a silent promise of violence.

But he knew, deep down, with unerring certainty, that even the combined might of the Eclipsian delegation could not contend with the unified power of Zachary and Riven.

For a full minute, the delegate locked eyes with Zachary, a silent battle of wills playing out between them.

Finally, reason triumphed over wrath.

"This isn't over"

He declared, his voice laced with reluctant restraint, a testament to rationality triumphing over emotion.

With that, the heavy, oppressive weight of his presence vanished, dissipating into the void as his words echoed in the air.

But even as he departed, the devastation he had wrought remained, a catastrophic tableau frozen in time, irreversible and unmoving.

The scars of his actions would linger long after his departure.

Throughout the unfolding chaos, Riven remained composed, his demeanor unshaken and unyielding.

He stood as a figure of calm authority, exuding quiet confidence.

He didn't need to speak.

For Riven, actions spoke louder than words, and he was always prepared to let his actions resonate, to whomever, wherever, and whenever the need arose.

Meanwhile, the delegates from the Blue Planets sat silently, observing the proceedings with measured curiosity.

It was their first time participating in the Starborn Tournament, and their strategy was clear: watch and learn.

Gorath, however, was a stark contrast.

Battle intent surged through his body, an unrestrained hunger for conflict evident in his stance.

Yet, as the anticipated clash failed to materialize, his expression soured.

Disappointment marred his features; the spectacle he craved was denied.

Collins, in stark opposition, remained motionless.

No energy radiated from him, not even a hint of aura betrayed his presence.

He didn't bother watching the events unfold.

His eyes stayed closed, a clear sign of his disinterest.

To Collins, this tournament was little more than a tedious obligation.

All he wanted was for it to conclude so he could return home.

This sentiment was precisely why he had left his wife, Irene, behind.

The thought crossed his mind: 'Just by being weaker, so many delegates have already perished from the mere flex of an Eclipsian's aura and killing intent. They haven't even attacked… yet lives are already lost'

Though Irene matched him in cultivation level, her role as a healer made her far more vulnerable.

Her physique was strong enough against those beneath their level, but here? Against powerhouses of this caliber, she was no more resilient than a newborn.

'It seems I made the right decision by insisting she stay behind'

Collins mused, his closed eyes betraying none of the calculations taking place in his mind.

'Though she'll undoubtedly be furious with me when I return… I should brace myself for a proper scolding'

A wry thought slipped through his consciousness: 'Who would have guessed that Collins Null, the so called Lightning God, feared his wife more than anything else in the galaxy?'

And yet, amidst the carnage and chaos, his lips curved ever so slightly, a fleeting smile that only he knew the reason for.

Michael watched the unfolding scene with a faint smile playing on his lips.

The chaos before him only fueled his anticipation.

After all, Michael was, and would always be, a battle maniac, a being who thrived on the art of combat.

For him, battles were not merely a test of strength but a path to endless improvement.

Even as a spectator, his own power could take another step forward simply by observing.

Such was the extent of his talent.

Yet, as engrossed as he was, his gaze instinctively shifted to where his wife, Mitchelle Crimson, should have been.

She wasn't there.

Michael's expression briefly flickered with surprise.

He hadn't noticed her leave.

He hadn't even sensed her presence fade.

'I was too focused on the battle'

He realized, the thought tinged with both admiration for the spectacle and mild annoyance at himself.

Without wasting a moment, Michael reached out telepathically, his mind swiftly seeking Mitchelle's presence to confirm her whereabouts.

Such was his obsession with battle that he had, once again, became so consumed by the prospect of conflict that he had momentarily forgotten his wife.

It was a flaw Mitchelle often teased him about, and one he grudgingly accepted as part of himself.

In a void of infinite darkness, the Overseer lounged effortlessly, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips as he observed the rising tension below.

This was pure entertainment for him, a front row spectacle in a grand cosmic theater.

Around him, champions sat frozen in perfect stillness.

None spoke.

None blinked.

None even breathed.

It was as if time itself had abandoned them.

They were locked in stasis, suspended within the Overseer's Void Dimension, a unique and ability exclusive to the Voidwalker race.

The Overseer's gaze lingered on the unfolding scene as the Celestial race intervened, defusing what had promised to be a thrilling clash.

"Tsk… such disappointment. Why are they even interfering?"

He muttered, clicking his tongue in irritation.

His interest in the delegates waned as the tension dissolved.

Turning his attention to the frozen students, his curiosity now piqued by the lesser participants, his sharp gaze scanned over their immobilized forms. Continue your journey with empire

But then, something stopped him cold.

The Overseer froze, his composure slipping as his eyes fell upon a figure perched casually on the armrest of seat number seven.

'Impossible'

He thought, his mind racing.

A human, a being he had neither sensed nor noticed, sat comfortably within his Void Dimension.

This was unthinkable.

The Void Dimension was the pinnacle of Voidwalker mastery, a realm where its creator was godlike, omnipotent, and omniscient.

Nothing moved without his awareness or permission.

Yet, here she was.

'A human'

He thought, his disbelief deepening as he stared at the woman who had violated the sanctity of his domain.

This went against every rule, every truth he knew about the Void Dimension.

The woman, of course, was none other than Mitchelle Crimson.

There was no way she would allow the Overseer to move her son without her knowledge or consent.

What if the Overseer harbored ulterior motives?

Mitchelle was not one to gamble with her child's safety.

In truth, she had been present from the very moment the Overseer deployed his Void Dimension.

She had chosen not to act, observing silently to assess the situation.

Once she confirmed that her son was unharmed and safe, she saw no need to intervene further.

"How did you enter my space without my permission?"

The Overseer demanded, his voice laced with disbelief and fury.

Mitchelle responded with a serene smile, her tone light as she replied.

"That's a trade secret"

The Overseer remained motionless, his mind working furiously.

Normally, anyone who dared to defy him would face his full wrath.

He reveled in war, destruction, and bloodshed.

Yet now, he hesitated.

This woman was no ordinary being.

Anyone capable of bypassing the Void Dimension's rules demanded caution.

'An artifact?'

He wondered, searching for signs of some ancient tool or mechanism at play.

But he found nothing, no artifacts, no spells, no discernible trickery.

"I hope you can overlook this intrusion"

Mitchelle continued, her voice calm but firm.

"I was just worried when my son disappeared before my eyes"

Her form began to fade, dissolving from reality as though erased from existence itself.

Having confirmed that Anthony was safe, Mitchelle returned to her husband's side, her expression returning to its usual stoic calm.

The Overseer stood rooted in place, shocked and deeply unsettled.

Mitchelle had left his domain right in front of him, yet he couldn't comprehend how she had done it.

His gaze shifted to Anthony, still frozen like the others.

"Her son"

He murmured internally, piecing together the connection.

But as his eyes lingered on Anthony, he felt a chilling sensation, a pair of gazes boring into him.

The first, unmistakably, was Mitchelle's lingering presence.

The second came from an unknown source he couldn't sense: Romulus.