MIGHT AS WELL BE OP

Anthony's eyes fluttered open to the sight of an immense chamber, its vastness accentuated by an array of vivid colors that shimmered beneath the gentle radiance of the room's light.

Every hue seemed to dance and deepen, as though the very atmosphere magnified their brilliance.

Before he could fully absorb his surroundings, a sudden warmth enveloped him, arms and a familiar presence pulled him into a firm, tender embrace.

"Mom."

He murmured, his voice soft with emotion.

His arms rose instinctively, wrapping around her as he returned the embrace. A gentle smile touched his lips, and the slight tension in his gaze melted away, replaced by quiet relief.

It had been over a year since he last saw her, since he'd heard her voice. He had missed her deeply.

As Mitchelle held Anthony in her arms, he could feel the torrent of emotions pouring from her, raw and unfiltered.

Joy. Love. Fear. Pride. Anxiety.

Each surged through her like a storm, clashing and folding into one another, overwhelming both heart and mind.

Despite the unshakeable certainty she had expressed to other Supremes, the firm belief that Anthony had survived the destruction of Military Base Alpha-6, a part of her had always harbored quiet panic, buried deep beneath her composure.

This was her son. Her baby. Her first child.

He had faced danger of the highest order, how could she not feel fear? Every instinct within her ached to pull him closer, to shelter him from the cruelty of the world. She wanted to keep him in her embrace forever, to shield him from the storms.

But the galaxy had no place for the fragile or the faint-hearted.

And yet, pride burned just as fiercely within her. Her son had survived what should have been unsurvivable. He had escaped a catastrophe that would have swallowed others whole. How many his age could say the same?

None.

Raelith stood silently to the side, his gaze fixed on the Supreme Monarch, the woman known across the stars for her unwavering composure, her expression as still as stone in every circumstance.

Yet now, she held her son in a tender embrace, and for the first time, that impenetrable mask had softened.

He said nothing. He dared not.

But he understood.

He understood the storm within her, the blend of anguish, relief, and overwhelming love, because he, too, was a father.

After a full minute of silent stillness, no words, no movement, just the warmth of a long-overdue embrace, she finally released him, her hands lingering as if reluctant to let go. Then, with a gentle motion, she pressed a kiss to his forehead.

"How have you been?"

She asked softly, her voice carrying the weight of a mother's love, laced with fragility.

Anthony could feel it all in her tone, the affection, the relief, the tremble of a tear threatening to fall.

"I'm good, Mom. Alive and well... still kicking."

He replied with a faint smile.

He loved her deeply, loved his family with a sincerity that couldn't be expressed in mere words. In his previous life, he'd known nothing of this warmth, this belonging.

But in this life, he cherished them. All of them.

He wanted to be strong enough to stand beside them, not behind, not beneath. Strong enough to obliterate any threat that dared rise against them.

But now wasn't the time for such thoughts.

"Come. I'm making you a meal."

She said gently, taking Anthony's hand as she began to lead him forward.

Then, without so much as a pause, she turned to Raelith and spoke with quiet authority.

"You may leave."

In an instant, a portal materialized beneath Raelith's feet, and he vanished through it without protest.

Other Supreme Monarchs might have concealed such vulnerability in the presence of a subordinate, but Mitchelle held no such reservations.

Why should she care what Raelith thought?

She was who she was, unapologetically.

And should Raelith ever entertain even the faintest of insolent thoughts... well, she could remind him of his place with a single spell.

Mitchelle tugged Anthony along with quiet determination, guiding him through a series of hallways and chambers.

As they moved, Anthony's gaze drifted over the intricately designed interiors, a familiar elegance woven into every detail.

'Did she build another Null Estate inside the military base?'

He thought, an amused smile tugging at his lips.

At last, they arrived in the kitchen.

Without hesitation, Mitchelle moved into action. Her motions were fluid and precise, turning on the gas, selecting ingredients, slicing vegetables with practiced ease. There was no wasted movement, no indecision. Just skill.

Anthony watched for a moment, then stepped in beside her, wordlessly joining the preparation. Within minutes, a rich, mouthwatering aroma filled the room, wrapping them both in its warmth.

She may have been known across the galaxy as the Crimson Witch Of Destruction, or the Elemental Witch Of Destruction, but in this space, she was something else entirely.

A master of war, yes, but also a goddamn chef.

Undefeated on the battlefield... and in the kitchen.

They sat together and ate in peaceful happiness, as if the chaos of the galaxy couldn't touch this moment.

Mitchelle didn't ask a single question about the destruction of Base Alpha-6, despite having been fully briefed, despite knowing her son had been at the center of it all.

None of that mattered now.

In this moment, she wasn't the Supreme Monarch, the Elemental Witch Of Destruction, or the revered commander of thousands.

She was simply a mother. A woman sharing a quiet meal with her son.

And to her, that was everything.

Her titles, her power, the weight of command, all faded into insignificance. Because right now, it was just her... and the child who still brought warmth to her heart.

Her firstborn. Her joy. Her world.

Their conversation flowed on as Mitchelle gently inquired about Anthony's time at Military Base Alpha-6.

With a weary sigh, Anthony began recounting everything from the very beginning, the arrival of Lieutenant Darren, the Vampire who had escorted him to the base; the relentless waves of demonic trials; and the insidious restrictions, curses, that grew heavier the longer one managed to survive.

He spoke of the Adaptive Combat Slime, a creature designed to mimic its opponents in every possible way.

Mitchelle remained mostly silent, the corners of her lips lifting in the occasional amused smile, as she listened to her son describe the grueling one-year training. He also spoke about the Baptism event.

Anthony spoke at length about his team and the bond they had forged. One by one, he introduced them, Kingsley, Dale, Seraphim, and Reynold, each name carrying a warmth that reflected their closeness.

Mitchelle's smile widened, her joy reaching its peak. It was the first time her son had ever spoken to her about his friends, let alone introduced them with such familiarity and pride.

He went on to recount an incident where a group of soldiers had attempted to scam him, trying to swindle the Fountain Pen gifted to him by the enigmatic Soulpen Sovereign.

Curious, Anthony asked about the Soulpen Sovereign, a figure cloaked in mystery, known to traverse all nine military bases as though boundaries meant nothing.

Clearly, such a being was far from ordinary.

Mitchelle responded with a gentle sigh, admitting she knew only fragments of the truth.

As the last Supreme Monarch, her knowledge was limited. After all, the Soulpen Sovereign had once been offered the position of the Fourth Supreme Monarch, but had declined the position.

Their conversation drifted from the dining table to the kitchen, carrying the warmth of shared moments. Anthony reached for the dishes, intent on cleaning up, but Mitchelle gently insisted on doing it herself.

And so, time passed as Mitchelle spoke of her experiences, of where she had been and what she had seen. As a Supreme Monarch, she was never confined to a single place; beings of her caliber did not remain tethered to their base.

She recounted tales of her journeys across the galaxy, of battles waged on distant worlds, of her relentless pursuit of traitors, and her exploration of long-forgotten ancient realms.

In that moment, there was no need for magic.

Only the moment itself existed.

Only a mother's love for her son.

Only a son's love for his mother.