MIGHT AS WELL BE OP-Chapter 1025: Guilt

Null Collins floated with calm ease, his face twisted in pure rage as he held his wife, Crimson Irene’s bloodied body within his hands. Time itself seemed to freeze as the remaining eight Eleven Winged Angels could only stare at him, utterly dazed, their expressions stiff with disbelief as they wondered how he had come here.

Collins slowly floated downward, his descent controlled and silent, his feet eventually touching the surface of a star as though it were nothing more than solid ground. He stared at Irene without speaking, his heart beating rapidly within his chest, his veins constricting, his blood flow surging violently.

He didn’t know what to say; he didn’t speak. He felt pained, he felt guilty, he felt ashamed... a torrent of emotions coursing through his body... overwhelming, suffocating, tightening. He couldn’t protect his wife... he had nearly lost her.

He had told her not to join him and the rest of the family because it was going to be dangerous for her if things went south, and indeed, things had gone south.

But now... he wasn’t even here in her time of need.

His black eyes stared at her as she panted, her chest rising and falling rapidly from the exhaustion that had consumed her. His gaze then shifted slightly to the side, falling upon the corpses of eleven Eleven Winged Angels, their lifeless forms scattered across the battlefield. That alone told him everything, meaning Irene had killed all eleven of them before his arrival.

Although he knew she was strong, he also understood that she didn’t exactly possess the raw power required to fight against such overwhelming numbers and emerge victorious. He had already guessed that she must have caught them off guard, using her mastery, her skills, and her artefacts to bridge the gap.

"You came," Irene said, her voice weak, yet steady enough to carry meaning. Although she had already healed herself as her Vita Energy had restored her physical injuries and essence, she was still exhausted, her mana nearly depleted, her body strained from prolonged battle.

"I did," Collins replied, his tone soft, almost restrained. After a brief moment of silence, he spoke again, "I’m sorry for not coming earlier," he added, his voice dropping lower this time, laced with unmistakable guilt.

Irene smiled faintly as she weakly shook her head. "Why are you apologising? I’m not exactly a fragile doll that needs to be handled like an egg," she stated, her tone carrying a hint of playful defiance despite her condition. "Besides, you already came, that is all that mattered," she added as she gently climbed down from Collins’ hands, regaining her footing.

Truly, she wasn’t angry, why would she be? She understood him better than anyone. She knew that her husband, Collins, barely spent time with anyone aside from her. If he wasn’t beside her, then it meant he had something important to handle, a duty he alone could carry out. And she always knew that once he was done, no matter where he was, he would come running straight to her.

With a mere thought, a mana potion and a stamina potion appeared within Collins’ hands, retrieved from his space ring. Without hesitation, he passed them to Irene, who accepted them and drank both. Within seconds, her condition improved drastically, her pale skin regained its natural glow, her vitality returning almost instantly.

With another thought from her, her mana stirred faintly, humming with renewed life. In the next instant, her bloodied body became perfectly clean, every trace of battle erased. Her disarranged crimson hair corrected itself, settling neatly back into place, as she once again resembled the Saintess of the World that everyone knew and revered.

"Thank you," she said softly, releasing a small sigh. During the battle, the Angels had obviously not allowed her even the slightest opportunity to consume any potion, after all, what opponent would willingly allow such a thing?

At Crimson Irene’s level and mastery over healing magic, she could restore others completely, stamina, injuries, even portions of their mana, but she could not extend that same efficiency to herself. She could only continuously heal her own injuries, sustaining herself until the point of absolute exhaustion or death.

Collins simply nodded at her words, his black eyes slowly shifting away from his wife toward the Angels who were responsible for all of this. The warmth and guilt that had filled his expression moments ago vanished instantly, replaced by something cold... something distant... something far more dangerous.

He didn’t need to ask Irene why she hadn’t contacted him, or their son Michael, or any other member of the family. After the spar between Anthony and his friends, he had attempted to come here through teleportation as he usually did, only to discover that he couldn’t. That alone told him enough, someone had interfered. Someone had sealed space and void itself.

Thus, without hesitation, he had used a one time use artefact, an extremely rare item that allowed the user to ignore all movement restrictions regardless of type or power scale. There had only been one such artefact in their possession, and it had been entrusted to him. Irene herself had refused to keep it at the time, leaving it in Collins’ care so that he could reach her whenever necessary, no matter the circumstance.

If they had possessed more than one, Irene would have used it without hesitation and fled immediately, without even bothering to engage in combat. After all, why should she involve herself in something as pointless and thankless as a prolonged battle?

Suddenly, Irene’s voice broke the silence from beside him. "Remember when I said that today would mark the greatest mistake of your life?" Her voice was steady now, confidence returning as a faint smile formed on her lips. "This is what I meant by that."

Although she spoke with certainty, she did not truly know how Collins would fare against eight Eleven Winged Angels. The tactics she had used would not work for him, they had underestimated her, and that mistake had cost them eleven lives.

But she also understood something deeper.

Even among Eleven Winged Angels, among those who bore the same number of wings, there existed vast differences in combat prowess. Just as the Sword Origin stood above most of his peers, just as within the Acarnis Galaxy, even among those at the Apexus Mana Rank, there were undeniable disparities in strength, skill, and overall ability.

Hearing Irene’s words, the remaining Angels turned their attention fully toward Collins. Their golden eyes locked onto him, cold, condescending, and filled with quiet disdain. They had already marked him for death.

They had been nine just moments ago, but the instant this human had appeared, one of them had been erased completely, without warning, without resistance.

Yet they did not speak, they simply floated there in silence, their formations steady, their presence ready, waiting patiently for a new order from their master, the Twelve Winged Angel.

Far above them, that being hovered with indifferent ease, its presence vast and overwhelming, its gaze directed downward as it observed everything unfolding below. It showed no reaction, no concern, no acknowledgment of the fallen Eleven Winged Angels.

To it, their deaths meant nothing. Absolutely nothing.