MIGHT AS WELL BE OP - Chapter 440

Chapter 440: The normal world
Anthony and Colonel Vazeryth touched down with practiced grace, arriving at their destination in silence.

As Anthony took his first step forward, he sensed an unfamiliar shift in the air, subtle, intangible, yet undeniably different.

He couldn’t quite place it, but something was off.

The people here moved without tension.

They carried no weight of presence.

No vigilance sharpened their gaze.

No hint of bloodlust lingered in their steps.

They didn’t tread like soldiers prepared to strike at a moment’s notice.

Instead, they strolled with the ease of civilians in a marketplace, unguarded, unconcerned, and utterly at peace.

Not a single head bowed, nor did anyone offer a salute or greeting as Anthony and Colonel Vazeryth advanced side by side through the unbothered crowd.

By now, Colonel Vazeryth had transferred the Severed Crown of Echoes into his spatial ring, its ominous presence sealed away.

Anthony’s gaze wandered, quietly taking in the unfamiliar environment with growing intrigue.

Their mana rank were modest, none particularly threatening.

More notably, they lacked the hardened edge that came with true combat experience.

To him, they simply appeared… ordinary.

No sharpened senses.

No cautious glances.

No scars etched by battle or burden.

Just people, unremarkable, unassuming, and strikingly at ease.

“Different, isn’t it?”

Colonel Vazeryth’s voice cut gently through the still air as they approached a towering edifice, its walls rising with quiet authority.

Anthony gave a slow nod, his attention still half-claimed by the strange normalcy surrounding him.

They stepped through the main entrance of a particular building and made their way directly to an elevator.

Colonel Vazeryth pressed the button for the top floor, and a sleek scanner emerged from the panel.

Without hesitation, he placed his military identification card against it.

With a soft beep, the elevator hummed to life, ascending smoothly.

“Welcome to the Logistics Department”

The Colonel said, his tone steady.

“Many soldiers refer to it as the normal world”

“The normal world?”

Anthony echoed, tilting his head slightly in confusion.

Vazeryth nodded, hands clasped neatly behind his back.

“As you’ve probably noticed, the people here lack the edge of battle. They’re not warriors. These are the individuals who handle the day-to-day operations that keep the military running: weapon forging, potion brewing, food preparation, rune inscription, file management, you name it. Everything outside of direct combat is handled by them. We, the soldiers, are tasked with fighting to the death. They take care of the rest”

He paused briefly before continuing.

“They possess little to no combat strength, as you’ve observed. But they flourish beyond the battlefield. Though they hold no formal military ranks, it’s an unspoken rule, none of them are to be harmed or even threatened. Ever”

Anthony nodded slowly, his thoughts drifting to the elf who had once delivered his military card when he was still just a Private.

With a soft tink, the elevator doors slid open.

A completely new scene unfolded before them, one that defied all expectations.

The room stretched out vast and open, far larger than the exterior of the building could have ever suggested.

It was as if the space itself had been folded, expanded through some unseen dimensional power.

Light poured in from crystalline panels embedded in the high ceiling, casting a pristine glow over polished floors and intricate workstations.

Arcane instruments hummed quietly in the distance, and shelves lined with scrolls, artifacts, and labeled containers extended along the walls like veins of knowledge.

In one corner, a tall man stood hunched over a cluttered table, muttering with visible frustration.

His fingers moved quickly through a scattering of papers, tools, and half-formed runes.

The man turned at the sound of their arrival, his expression shifting as he caught sight of Colonel Vazeryth and Anthony.

A gentle smile spread across his face as he began to approach them, his steps unhurried, almost graceful.

He had sleek, snow-white hair that shimmered faintly under the ambient light, and eyes as dark as obsidian, deep and unreadable.

His frame appeared alarmingly frail, as though a gust of wind might snap him in half.

Shoulders narrow, posture unassuming, everything about him spoke of fragility.

But Anthony’s gaze was not so easily fooled.

Behind that fragile exterior, he sensed something… off.

The man moved like a whisper, yet every step carried a calculated presence.

His aura was veiled, restrained, yet it hinted at something hidden, something other.

Anthony narrowed his eyes slightly.

‘Not human. But close’

He thought.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite Dragon”

The man said with a brisk, amused tone, a mischievous glint flickering in his obsidian eyes.

He closed the distance with ease, placing a familiar hand on Colonel Vazeryth’s shoulder.

“What brings you to my little corner of the world? Don’t tell me you came empty-handed. Any exotic liquor? Perhaps a fresh demon specimen I can tinker with?”

Colonel Vazeryth’s lips twitched ever so slightly, caught between exasperation and amusement.

“You really should cut back on the alcohol”

Hs said, sighing.

“At this rate, you’re drinking more than the dwarves. One of these days, you will collapse”

“You’re no fun, Vazeryth”

The man replied with a dramatic sigh, his voice laced with playful disdain.

“All you people ever do is fight, kill, and spill more blood. Honestly, it’s exhausting just thinking about it. You should enjoy life more”

He waved his hand dismissively, then his gaze shifted toward Anthony, eyes narrowing with subtle curiosity.

“Well now… and who is this little fellow beside you?”

“This is Lieutenant Anthony”

Colonel Vazeryth replied, gesturing toward him.

Then, turning slightly, he continued,

“Lieutenant Anthony, meet Zhyravel, Patriarch of the Veylanthar Clan”

Anthony stepped forward with a composed step, offering a polite nod and a soft smile.

“Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Zhyravel”

As Zhyravel held no formal military rank, Anthony made no salute, only respect in gesture and tone.

Zhyravel gave a brief nod in return, his expression unreadable, then turned and strolled back toward the cluttered table he had been working at earlier, his white hair swaying lightly with each step.

“So, Vazeryth”

Zhyravel began without looking back, his tone casual yet pointed.

“What brings you here, really? I doubt you came all this way just for conversation”

“There’s an artifact I need you to identify”

Colonel Vazeryth replied, stepping forward as he trailed behind him.

Zhyravel arched a brow as he lowered himself into a well-worn chair, the seat creaking softly under his frame.

“You do realize”

He said dryly.

“That there are plenty of others in the Logistics Department capable of that sort of work”

“I’m aware”

Vazeryth said as he took a seat opposite him.

“But I trust you more”

Anthony remained silent, standing respectfully behind the Colonel, his eyes scanning the curious instruments and odd relics scattered across the table.

“This one is… somewhat special”

Colonel Vazeryth said, his voice quieting, a rare seriousness settling into his features.

“Or at least, I think it might be. But I won’t know for sure until you tell me. Your judgment carries more weight than most”

Zhyravel gave an exaggerated sigh, waving a hand dismissively.

“Then don’t keep me in suspense. Bring it out already. Contrary to how I look, I am a very busy man”

With a nod, Colonel Vazeryth lifted his hand.

A pulse of mana shimmered in the air as the Severed Crown of Echoes materialized above his open palm, hovering gently, dark and ancient, radiating a quiet hum that seemed to press against the space around it.

“Don’t touch it”

He warned firmly, passing the crown forward with a measured gesture.

Zhyravel didn’t reply immediately.

Instead, he leaned in slightly, studying the artifact with narrowed eyes.

His demeanor shifted from playful to focused in an instant a quiet intensity replacing his earlier jest.

“Let’s see what secrets you’re hiding”

He murmured.

As he spoke, his pitch-black eyes suddenly shifted, bleeding into a glowing violet hue, soft at first, then pulsing with quiet power as arcane symbols reflected faintly in his gaze.