Anthony shook his head with a gentle laugh at Kingsley's words. At this moment, their actions had attracted a bit of attention, though not nearly enough to stir any real commotion. With millions of individuals present within the lobby alone, only a handful glanced their way, and even those few quickly lost interest.

Here, attention was fleeting and meaningless. Within this place, there was no rule, or rather, there was a rule, but it was brutally simple: whoever had the biggest fist was the lawmaker.

An incalculable number of people had died within this building walls simply because they were weaker or belonged to a lower race. There was no orderliness here, nothing resembling the civility displayed during the Starborn Tournament.

At the Starborn Tournament, nobody dared waste strength, energy, or even time starting meaningless fights. Every participant arrived with a goal in mind, a reward within reach, and a path to becoming stronger laid clearly before them. There was no need for petty distractions when the stakes were monumental and literally life changing.

But here?

Here, there was no reward, no grand objective, no shining treasure to claim. Within this building, the younger generation could afford to behave however they pleased. As long as their strength was sufficient, and their organization's backing was formidable, then anything they did was tolerated.

After all, nobody here would dare attack an individual whose faction or older-generation delegates were capable of wiping out entire team or organization… right? And so, the same pattern repeated endlessly: everyone sought a target they could bully, while avoiding those who possessed the strength or prestige to retaliate.

Anthony, Kingsley, and Vega sat with calm ease as they finished their drinks. None of them bore even a hint of a victim mentality. Just because they were attacked earlier did not mean the human race was being singled out or targeted. No, numerous races were being provoked, killed or tortured here. The humans were simply one number within the endless tally of victims, nothing more, nothing less.

The majority of those from the mid-tier and lower-tier races had arrived at this grand meeting organized by the top powerhouses of the Galaxy with various goals in mind. Dreams burned within their hearts, ambition, desperation, and hope swirling together. But for many, those dreams died before the meeting even began.

Hopes reduced to ashes, aspirations extinguished, lives snuffed out simply because they were weaker than their opponents. And yet not a single person complained. Who would they complain to? The Galaxy? The Universe? Reality itself? Such lamentations were meaningless. This was simply how the laws of reality worked.

If you were angry, then get stronger. Through whatever means necessary.

Whether through righteous cultivation, the forbidden path of corruption, forging pacts with Demons, forming contracts with Eldritch Horrors, or seeking power from monstrosities lurking beyond the fringes of existence, none of it mattered. The Galaxy did not care. The Universe did not discriminate. Power was power, and all paths that led to strength were equally recognized.

There was no true good or evil in the eyes of cosmic laws, only the strong and the weak.

Adapt or die. Simple. Brutal. Absolute.

Anthony understood that the reason many here failed to recognize him was simply because they hadn't attended the Starborn Tournament. Every faction, powerhouse, and race had been allowed only a single champion to represent them. Naturally, this limited the number of individuals who had seen Anthony in action.

However, those who had participated in the Starborn Tournament wasted no time in warning their teammates. Every group arrived prepared with knowledge, knowledge of who could be bullied and who could return the favor with overwhelming force.

'I wonder what it's like in the other building…?' Anthony mused silently, his sky-blue eyes drifting toward the adjacent structure, the one reserved for the older generation's delegates.

'I'll look into it later. I'm still touring,' he thought, letting the idea settle for another time. At some point during his free hours, he would spy. For now, he would simply enjoy himself.

Anthony wondered whether the chaos unfolding in this building mirrored what was happening in the older generation's building. Were the weaker individuals there also being slaughtered? Were they being ostracized, humiliated, or insulted by those of higher standing? The questions flickered through Anthony's mind, but none of them caused him any worry.

As for his father, mother, and grandfather, they had already slain members of the Eclipsian races nearly three years ago. Their strength was undeniable; there was no need to fret over their safety. And the First Supreme Monarch and the Third Supreme Monarch… well, they remained enigmatic variables, mysteries that Anthony chose not to dwell upon.

With a quiet sigh, Anthony dispersed his wandering thoughts. Whenever he decided to observe the older generation more closely, the answers would inevitably reveal themselves.

"Hmmm… it's as though the architect of this building already knew deaths would occur," Anthony remarked, his sky-blue eyes trailing along a hidden Rune Formation etched seamlessly into the structure.

The formation was designed specifically to erase the scent of blood from the air, the ground, and any surface it touched. Although numerous purification formations were embedded throughout the building to maintain cleanliness, the one Anthony focused on existed solely for the purpose of erasing blood.

"It's normal that they would expect it," Kingsley said from his seat as he poured himself another drink, as if conveniently forgetting they had agreed to leave once they finished the drinks in their glasses, not the entire bottle or the entire bar.

"She would love to be here," Vega murmured softly, her eyes drifting toward the groups of races conversing throughout the lobby.

"Veronica, you mean?" Kingsley asked. He hadn't seen her in a long while. Although she wasn't part of their military team back at Military Base Alpha-9, the entire ground liked her. But she had been absent for over six months. None of them had asked Vega about it earlier; they simply assumed perhaps the friendship had faded.

"What happened?" Kingsley asked now, not out of emotional concern but simply because the matter finally piqued his curiosity.

Vega sighed, then explained the reason behind Veronica's prolonged absence. Damian's death wasn't exactly a secret that required hiding. Kingsley nodded once he heard the explanation, offering no words of encouragement or comfort. That was Anthony's job as Vega's boyfriend, not his.

A few minutes passed as the trio sat at the bar, small conversations drifting lazily between them.

"You do know you're the one we're waiting for… right?" Anthony asked, watching Kingsley pour himself yet another drink.

Kingsley froze mid-pour, then sighed softly before downing the drink in a single gulping motion.

"If you like the drink that much, just take the entire bottle. I'm sure you can," Vega suggested as she turned her purple gaze to Kingsley.

Kingsley nodded. His golden eyes flicked toward the bartender, who immediately understood without needing a verbal instruction. With one simple wave, ten crates appeared. Kingsley transferred them into his space ring without hesitation.

Throughout the entire situation, killings, intimidation, and the waves of chaos rippling through the lobby, the bartenders hadn't reacted once. Not a shift in expression, not a blink out of place. The only time they spoke was when taking drink orders or discussing bar-related matters. Everything else beyond that was none of their concern.

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