MIGHT AS WELL BE OP
Chapter 160: Healing

The Null Estate loomed ahead, an indomitable fortress of heritage and might, carved into the heart of the rugged valley.

Its presence exuded an aura of silent authority, an ancient testament to the power and lineage that guarded it, standing steadfast as if to shield against the encroaching shadows cast by recent upheavals.

The estate's entrance unfurled like the maw of a slumbering giant.

Massive iron gates, dark and unyielding, barred the way with an air of solemn command.

These gates were bound by towering stone walls, weathered yet enduring, their cold surface softened by the drape of ivy that curled upward, clinging tenaciously to each jagged surface.

As the last remnants of daylight faded, the ivy cast elongated shadows that seemed to entwine with the falling twilight, cloaking the walls in a rich, foreboding darkness.

The silence of the valley was profound, as though the land itself held its breath, bearing witness to the return of those who tread upon its soil with purpose.

With each step Anthony and his family took, the sound of their approach resonated through the dusk, a quiet thunder reverberating against the valley walls, an omen of both sanctuary and reckoning.

Anthony walked in silence, flanked by his father, Michael, and his grandfather, Collins.

His face held an impenetrable calm, devoid of any trace of exhaustion or pain, as though the recent battles had left him untouched.

He moved with a quiet dignity that belied the struggles he had faced, his expression steady as if the weight of his experiences rested far behind him.

Beside him, his mother, Mitchelle, strode with a silent intensity, her gaze sharp and unreadable, as if every thought was meticulously concealed beneath her composed exterior.

Meanwhile, Irene, his grandmother, stayed close, one hand resting gently on his shoulder.

Her touch, though light, was imbued with purpose, a delicate reassurance and a silent vow of protection as she monitored him, ever watchful.

Their collective presence was undeniable, a union bound by generations of power, history, and unbreakable bonds, each family member embodying the might and resilience of their legacy.

They had not come merely to confront the results of a trial within the Academy.

They were here because their son and grandson had been taken, tested, and ensnared by forces audacious enough to challenge the sanctity of their bloodline.

This was not a confrontation, they were a force of reckoning.

As they neared the grand entrance of the estate, Irene's hand gave Anthony's arm a gentle, lingering squeeze, her gaze soft yet fierce, radiating a warmth that struggled to mask the storm of fury simmering within.

Though gentle by nature, Irene possessed an indomitable spirit, revered not for battle skills but for her unparalleled mastery in the healing arts, a power that had saved countless lives and earned her a legendary status across the world.

Her aura was not one of intimidation or brute strength, yet those in her presence felt compelled to tread with respect.

It was her gift, her artistry in healing, that commanded reverence, and although she wielded no weapon, her presence bore the same authority, her skillset one of restoration rather than ruin, but powerful nonetheless.

Wasting no time, Irene began her examination of Anthony, her touch precise and methodical.

Her hands hovered, tracing patterns through the air around him as if feeling for disturbances invisible to others.

The energy she projected was soft yet intense, like a cool flame that soothed while probing deeply.

She checked for any lingering injuries, any trace of dark magic, any evidence of the demons' influence, unwilling to overlook even the smallest detail.

Anthony didn't bother to protest, knowing well that even his word would not stop Irene's meticulous scrutiny.

He understood her instincts, he could claim to be unharmed, yet she would trust only her own assurance.

With a quiet sigh, he lifted his arm, allowing her full access to inspect him, displaying skin unmarred by bruises or scars, a stark contrast to the battle he had endured against Kush, an opponent leagues above his rank.

His form appeared untouched by the conflict, as if his body had defied the punishment of combat altogether.

His skin held a healthy flush, free from the pallor of mana exhaustion, and his movements were smooth, his posture unwavering.

There were no signs of fatigue, no tremor in his stance, no weakness in his step, no sign of any physical toll.

Not a speck of dust or a smear of blood marked his figure; anything short of Kush's direct attacks had been halted by Infinity, leaving him remarkably unscathed.

Mitchelle crossed her arms, her gaze sharpening as she scrutinized Anthony's expression and stance with the intensity of a hawk.

Her eyes lingered on every line, every subtle shift, searching for the slightest indication of pain or discomfort he might be masking.

But her examination revealed nothing.

No hint of strain, no shadow of fatigue, Anthony's face remained an unreadable mask, calm and composed, devoid of any trace of suffering.

He held himself with a quiet resilience, unwavering and unscathed, leaving Mitchelle with the unsettling realization that, despite the trials he'd faced, there was simply no pain left for him to hide.

"Irene"

Mitchelle murmured.

"Be thorough, the demons are clever, we can't risk any hidden magic left behind"

"Understood"

Irene's brow furrowed as she heard this, she channeled her aura through Anthony's body, trying to draw out any dark energy, residual traces of the demon's chaotic influence.

But how could Anthony's physique allow such things exist in his body, if it could even enter in the first place.

Her expression softened only slightly as she worked, her hands moving with practiced care, continuously trying to identify any impurities and ensuring her grandson was truly unharmed.

Michael took a step closer, his gaze penetrating.

"Anthony, tell us everything. From the moment you were taken to the fight with the elf we saw beside you"

Anthony steadied himself, nodding before he began.

"Honestly, the entire thing happened too fast, nobody even knew what happened or anything, we were supposed to be taken to the battle exam venue, but as we stepped into the portal, we appeared in a place that looked like a pocket dimension or separate space"

Anthony sighed as he spoke and explained everything that happened.

Collins' jaw tightened, his eyes steely as he spoke.

"It seems that they were trying to wipe out the entire golden generation, even sending a King ranker just to kill some studens"

Anthony nodded in agreement.

"Their plan indeed kind of succeeded, barely ten percent of the total students are alive"

A heavy silence fell over the family.

King rank.

That was a force Anthony, a mere first-year student, should never have been forced to face.

Mitchelle's expression hardened, though her eyes flickered with a hint of pride.

"And yet, you survived. You fought against a King ranker, you didn't just win, you even killed the elf with your own abilities"

Her voice carried both admiration and anguish, a mixture only a mother could feel.

"Tell us, Anthony, how did you stand against such power?"

Anthony locked eyes with his mother, his expression calm, a faint smile playing on his lips, as though the weight of the world could not disturb him.

In that brief moment, the air seemed to shift around him, and with a subtle, almost imperceptible surge of power, his Peak Grandmaster rank aura exploded to life.

The sheer force of it rippled through the space, causing the air to hum with its intensity.

None of them could comprehend the scene unfolding before them.

A fifteen-year-old peak Grandmaster.

It was an impossible feat, an accomplishment so preposterous that it threatened to shatter the very understanding of talent and potential.

The very foundation of what was deemed achievable by a human at that age crumbled before their eyes.

Michael, who had thought his son's previous display of defying the limits of cultivation was already beyond reason, now stood in stunned silence.

His mind raced, struggling to grasp the magnitude of what he was witnessing.

This was beyond extraordinary, this was an aberration of nature itself.

Anthony, ever composed, chose not to speak.

Instead, with a mere flicker of his fingers, he conjured an illusion.

The shimmering figure of his battle with Kush materialized before them, an intricate, vivid recreation of their clash.

The fluid dance of blades, the graceful yet deadly exchanges, each moment captured in excruciating detail.

The tension, the ferocity, the elegance of his swordsmanship, it all unfolded in the ethereal projection.

Michael's initial shock slowly melted into a smile, a prideful, knowing grin as he watched his son's form with the sword.

The purity of Anthony's technique, the precision with which he wielded his blade, left him speechless.

The boy had transcended all expectations, not just in power, but in the very art of combat itself.

'To think he trained alone and got this far'

He thought.

Michael watched intently, a flicker of longing in his gaze, he desired to face his son in a true test of the sword, a clash of skill and spirit, much like the battle he had witnessed between Anthony and Kush.

"You have hidden quite well my grandson"

Collins voice boomed across space as the illusion ended with Anthony's victory and their arrival.

"Are you sure you aren't hiding your rank? like you are at the Paragon rank, but showing us the Grandmaster rank"

Mitchelle held Anthony's gaze, her expression both fierce and expectant.

Anthony gave a small, awkward cough, recalling how, until now, he'd masked his true abilities, a feat that was already exceptional.

But this time, he chose differently; he let them see his real rank, unfiltered and undeniable.

They grappled with the revelation, the staggering new reality Anthony laid before them.

At first, there was silence, an unspoken tension hanging heavy in the air.

But eventually, they found themselves cooling down, the shock transforming into acceptance.

After all, Anthony was their descendant, their own bloodline, a prodigy, yes, but their prodigy, such talent could only bring them pride.

Meanwhile, the rumors stirred in quiet whispers.

Some students who had witnessed Anthony's battle with Kush had survived, and soon enough, word would likely spread, carrying tales of his rank and battle prowess to every ear eager to listen.

A Grandmaster fighting a King was an impossible event.

Anthony's expression darkened as he remembered the students who had seen his fight with kush.

But after some thoughts, he just decided to just forget about it.

There was no need to keep hiding his strength or ability.

"I wonder how broken the remaining students must be. I only hope this experience doesn't become an insurmountable wall on their path forward"

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Irene said as her mind shifted to the students who had survived.

"The demons showed no mercy at all Grandmother"

Anthony said with a sigh.

"This is how the world works, if they get over the wall in front of them, a whole new realm awaits them, those who didn't even encounter any wall at all and just pushed through it all with sheer will are already in their own world"

The room grew quiet, as each of them knew the truth in Anthony's words.

It might have seemed simple enough, yet the wall Anthony had mentioned had repelled countless others.

For many, the barrier wasn't physical, it was the weight of unimaginable horrors that overwhelmed their minds, leaving them unable to press forward.

Collins broke the silence, his voice carrying a hard edge.

"This doesn't end here. The demons overstepped, thinking they could wield power without consequence. They'll learn soon enough the cost of such recklessness"

Irene placed a hand on Collins' arm, a silent agreement passing between them.

Anthony looked at these two and said.

"There's no need to waste your time and strength; Mother has already wiped out every last demon that was with us earlier. Even if you continued hunting them down, it wouldn't make a difference in their numbers"

Irene's soft voice cut through the tension, her hands still resting on his shoulder.

"Are you sure about this"

Michael asked.

Anthony nodded.

"If someone specific were involved, I wouldn't be standing here talking. I would have demanded their immediate execution and eradication. But it's just the demons, no matter how many we kill, they'll keep coming back. We'd be wasting both time and strength"

They held his gaze in silence for a long moment, each contemplating his words before nodding in solemn agreement, recognizing the truth in his point.

In the sweeping grandeur of the Null Estate's great hall, the family lingered, exchanging unspoken oaths, an unbreakable bond of purpose woven between them.

Their unity was more than a mere resolution; it was an unyielding pact to safeguard their legacy and to secure the future of their bloodline.

The silence was gently broken by the soft, rhythmic hum of Irene's healing aura.

Irene continued to channel her energy toward Anthony, even as he quietly protested, claiming he bore no injuries.

Yet, she persisted, her aura a silent testament to her unwavering care, as if soothing wounds he couldn't or wouldn't reveal.