Chapter 656: Until Next Time
A few minutes passed with Anthony and his clones doing nothing but repeatedly signing the same signatures on people’s shirts, foreheads, arms, artifacts, and even swords.
Some of the more fanatical citizens were already exclaiming that they would never bathe again, swearing that they would not allow water to wash away what they now referred to as their god’s mark, the sacred trace of Anthony’s ink upon their skin.
Anthony sighed inwardly as he scribbled yet another signature for a wide-eyed child.
’Celebrities really have it rough. No wonder most of them only sign two or three shirts before moving on,’ he thought with mild exasperation.
At this point, he was already beginning to feel a dull ache in his wrist. ’And what sort of absurd biology is this? I didn’t feel pain even after fighting in brutal hand to hand combat against Lilithra or enduring a clash with the Demon King’s clone, but here I am in pain from nothing more than signing my own name repeatedly.’ The irony almost made him chuckle aloud.
Despite his mild frustration, Anthony had not neglected the crowd. Out of consideration for the hundreds of citizens gathered, he had long since created a dome of glistening ice that stretched across the plaza, shielding them from the desert sun.
The heat outside was merciless, the kind that could cause dizziness or dehydration within minutes, but under the shimmering canopy of Anthony’s craft, the air was cool, calm, and breathable. The last thing he wanted was people fainting or collapsing simply because they had come to see him.
Turning his head, Anthony noticed that the soldiers had already completed the cleanup of the battlefield. He nodded faintly, then shifted his attention back to the citizens. Straightening, he raised his voice, letting it carry across the crowd.
"It seems my time is up. Until next time."
Even as he spoke, his form blurred and vanished, slipping through space itself. His clones dispersed into mist-like nothingness as he canceled the ability.
Reality twisted, and in the next breath, Anthony appeared before his teammates. They were still resting beneath their parasol, lounging in reclining chairs as though the earlier chaos had been nothing more than a distant spectacle.
Vega’s purple eyes fluttered open as she sensed his presence. "How was it?" she asked softly, her voice carrying the calmness of someone who already knew the answer.
"Just a bunch of old men trying to introduce their daughters to me," Anthony replied smoothly. He walked towards her with an almost casual grace, gently lifting her legs as he sat down.
Placing them across his lap, he began massaging her calves and feet with practiced care, his fingers moving with both devotion and gentleness.
Vega’s lips curved into a faint, almost imperceptible smile. "Too bad. If they had come earlier, perhaps they might have succeeded in stealing you away from me." Her tone was flat, but the subtle edge carried more weight than a thousand declarations.
Ahead of them, Warlord Raelith and Warlord Brontagar stood side by side, their towering figures emanating authority and commanding presence. Both men had already handled their respective opponents in the earlier battle.
Though they bore a few injuries from the clashes, nothing remained that Anthony’s time-reversal magic could not repair.
Then, without ceremony, Warlord Raelith raised his hand. Instantly, space rippled, and a massive shadow fell upon the desert. With a sound that seemed to shake the very air, a colossal aircraft manifested before their eyes. Its sheer size blotted out the horizon, its metallic hull gleaming with military artistry and power.
It was none other than the military base Alpha-9 aircraft: Last Stand. An airborne fortress, bristling with concealed weaponry, capable of housing an army.
Warlord Raelith and Warlord Brontagar had brought it here as insurance, a contingency in case the battle against the Forsaken Cult had spiraled into something catastrophic.
The gathered citizens gaped in awe. Some scrambled for their phones, frantically taking pictures, their hands shaking with disbelief.
Though many of them had traveled through airports and boarded commercial flights, those were ordinary planes, fragile in comparison to this steel behemoth. Compared to Last Stand, every other aircraft was a child’s toy.
Without hesitation, the soldiers began moving towards the craft in orderly lines. A hatch opened at the base, gaping like the maw of some void-beast, and the troops disappeared inside without a sound.
Anthony’s group, watching the unfolding scene, rose to their feet. At a simple wave of his hand, the parasol and recliners dissolved into motes of fading light, products of his quantum manipulation, dismissed as easily as they had been created.
Without delay, Dale, Seraphim, Kingsley, and the others started making their way toward the aircraft. Vivian and Donna, however, lingered behind for a moment, approaching Anthony, who was still holding Vega’s hand, their fingers interlaced in quiet intimacy.
Vivian wore a rare, gentle smile as she stepped forward. Her expression, normally colder than ice, softened ever so slightly.
"I wanted to thank you," she said quietly. "If not for you, I would have been left fighting a handful of cult members hidden away in some forgotten corner. You brought them to me... you gave me the chance to do what I’ve longed for."
Her voice carried both gratitude and quiet conviction. Though she had taken her revenge against the Forsaken Cult, the ones who had destroyed her family, she knew well that it was Anthony who had carved open the path.
He had not owed her anything. He had no reason to interfere, no obligation to grant her such an opportunity. And yet, he had.
Anthony, hearing her sincerity, merely smiled faintly. "You’re welcome. At least now, you’ve managed to ease the burden you’ve been carrying for so many years." He paused before adding, "Though I always tell all of you never to rely on someone else, it doesn’t hurt to ask for help once in a while."
Vivian’s smile deepened at his words, and for a fleeting moment, she remembered the first time Anthony had approached her. She had been just a girl then, fifteen years old, hardened by grief and consumed by vengeance. Accepting Anthony’s offer had felt like selling her soul at the time.
She had no idea that it would instead elevate her, granting her strength she had never imagined. Back then, she had not even seen the true sky. Back then, she had not even dreamed of power.
"I’ll keep your advice in mind," she said quietly.
Anthony studied her expression and nodded inwardly. ’It seems her permanent cold mask has finally cracked. She should smile more often... it suits her.’ He was genuinely glad to see her transformation.
"After watching you resurrect people today," Vivian added suddenly, her voice carrying an unusual steadiness, "I’ve decided to bring my parents back."
At this, Vega’s eyes flickered with interest, her ears twitching slightly. She had not been told the full details, but she was not a fool. Her intellect pieced together the truth swiftly,
Vivian’s parents had been slain by the Forsaken Cult, and her vengeance today had been driven by that loss. But resurrection... that was something else entirely.
Though Anthony had made the act of reviving the dead appear effortless, Vega knew better. She understood enough of the world to know that such a feat demanded mastery of domains beyond normal comprehension. For Vivian, whose skills and abilities seemed rooted in ice, the path of resurrection appeared alien.