Lord of the Truth

Flap Flap

"Raaaaaaaaawwwrrrr--!"

Cryxus opened his enormous maw once more, releasing a thunderous roar that reverberated across the heavens. The sheer force of his voice sent shockwaves through the air, scattering the clouds above the capital as if the very fabric of the sky had been torn apart. It was a roar not just of power, but of dominion—of a creature that knew no equal in its realm.

His massive wings, like the sails of a cosmic ship, carved through the atmosphere, their motion creating powerful gusts that sent tremors down to the city below. His titanic body, a masterpiece of raw destruction, blended the deep abyss of black with vibrant streaks of glowing blue, forming an awe-inspiring spectacle. Every flap of his wings pressed down upon the world like an invisible force of nature, and with each exhalation, searing flames hissed from his nostrils, distorting the very air before him with their heat.

"What in the hell brought that thing here?" Sakaar growled in irritation, his expression darkening as his instincts screamed at him. Beside him, Amon and the other demon generals stiffened, their previously relaxed demeanor vanishing in an instant. Their bodies tensed, poised on the edge of action, ready to respond at a moment's notice.

Truthfully, Cryxus had never directly attacked any of them before. Even in Sakaar's previous battle against him, it was Sakaar, Caesar, and Richard who had gone after the beast, launching a relentless assault until they had finally subdued him. By all logic, it should be Cryxus who held a grudge against them, not the other way around.

Yet, something within Sakaar —no, something within all demonkin— recoiled at the sight of that blazing blue fire.

Something primal.

Something deeply buried in their blood, whispering to them in an ancient, instinctual voice.

Flee.

Of course, as grand generals of the Empire, fleeing was never an option. Their first instinct would always be to eliminate the source of the threat.

"What's wrong? Relax." Caesar raised a hand before the demonkin generals, his voice calm but absolute, leaving no room for argument.

"...Fine," Sakaar finally muttered, exhaling sharply as he folded his arms. "His stench is just unfitting for a place like this." He made a dismissive gesture, signaling his subordinates to stand down. "But seriously, who in their right mind invited a beast like that to an event of this importance?"

"I did." Caesar tapped his own chest lightly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Not just him. I also sent invitations to Beast King Deivos and Beast King Durger."

"Durger and Deivos too?!" Zara's eyes widened in shock, barely able to believe what she had just heard. "Why would you do that?"

"I would very much like to hear the reason too." Sakaar added, his tone now laced with a little anger.

"What's the issue?" Caesar shrugged, glancing at them with an easy confidence. "Maybe they were our enemies once, but His Excellency reached an understanding with them. Now, they contribute a great deal of blood and strength to the Third Army. You could say… they're allies, to some extent."

Then, with a simple nod of his chin, he gestured toward the massive grandstands filled with spectators, "As for why I invited them… just look."

"..."

Zara, Sakaar, and the rest of the generals turned their attention toward the massive audience.

There, nearly two hundred thousand spectators sat frozen in place, their heads tilted upward, eyes locked onto Cryxus as he carved through the sky. Mouths hung open in silent awe, bodies trembled under the crushing weight of his presence. Even the monarchs of distant planets, men and women accustomed to ruling entire worlds, could feel the invisible force pressing down on their shoulders—an undeniable reminder of their insignificance before such raw, unfiltered might.

"This entire event was designed to showcase the Empire's strength to the known universe," Caesar continued. "To cement the absolute authority of His Excellency. These recordings won't just be seen today—they'll be broadcast every single year, across every single world in the Empire, for generations to come."

Then, as if to emphasize his point, he lifted a hand and casually waved toward Cryxus.

"How could I possibly pass up the chance to invite such majestic creatures? Their mere presence raises the significance of this event tenfold!"

"Ohhh…"

Zara raised her eyebrows in understanding, a hint of intrigue flashing across her face, "Cryxus did join the Empire, so it makes sense that he'd answer the call… but do you really think Deivos and Durger will show up?"

Caesar lifted his head slightly, crossing his arms over his chest with an air of absolute certainty, "They'd better."

…

Meanwhile, Cryxus surveyed the vast city below with keen, predatory eyes, scanning the grandstands until he pinpointed his intended landing spot. With an almost eerie sense of understanding, he adjusted his trajectory immediately.

Flap Flap

The rhythm of his wings slowed, his massive frame angling ever so slightly as he began a calculated descent. Like a god of destruction descending from the heavens, he circled the grandstands and the ceremonial platform with precise, controlled movements, ensuring all eyes remained on him.

And then, finally—

With a tremendous gust of wind, he touched down beside Destruction Note-1, the Empire's legendary flagship warship.

The earth rumbled.

His colossal talons dug into the stone beneath him, carving deep grooves into the solid ground. Then, raising his massive head, Cryxus released yet another earth-shattering roar, this time accompanied by an explosive cascade of swirling blue flames.

"Raaaaaaaaawwwrrrr--!"

It was not a greeting. It was a proclamation.

Only after his display of power did he finally lower himself onto the ground, folding his massive wings with an air of dignity. His movements were measured, deliberate— every inch of his posture exuding an overwhelming sense of superiority.

"Heh… I have to admit," Caesar smirked, watching the scene unfold before him, "That wyvern understood exactly that he was invited for."

A heavy silence engulfed the grandstands, an overwhelming stillness that swallowed the entire plaza whole. Even the entertainment crews, the giant holographic screens, and the constant hum of background chatter had all ceased—as if the entire world had momentarily paused.

Every single eye, without exception, was now fixed on Cryxus.

This was not just any mere arrival.

It was his first official appearance as a recognized member of the Empire.

The weight of that fact alone sent an invisible shockwave through the hundreds of thousands of spectators present. Fear, awe, and sheer disbelief collided within them as they processed the scene before them.

Yet, what made the spectacle even more breathtaking was the sheer disparity in size.

The colossal warship, a floating fortress that had once seemed immense, an indomitable structure that could house an entire army, now appeared… strangely diminished.

Next to Cryxus, it no longer seemed as grand.

Because Cyxus himself —a living, breathing embodiment of destruction— Towering over 60 meters tall, his presence dominated the battlefield-like plaza.

Then—

BAAAAAAM!

A thunderous impact suddenly shattered the silence.

Something had just fallen from Cryxus's back.

The crushing stillness made the sound deafening, echoing across the grand venue like a war drum, demanding attention.

"Hmm?"

All eyes, as if guided by an unseen force, were instantly drawn toward the source of the sound.

And there, at the center of impact, stood a figure.

A man—if he could even be called that.

His skin was an unusual shade of pale blue, eerily close to white, yet still carrying a faint ethereal hue.

His height was nearly three meters, his broad frame built with a physique so sculpted that it seemed as if he had been forged rather than born. His powerful muscles, though clearly defined even beneath his garments, did not appear grotesque or bulky. Instead, they exuded a perfect balance of strength and elegance—his form carrying an almost divine symmetry, like a masterpiece painted by the hands of an ancient god.

And yet—

"..."

Holak did not react to the hundreds of thousands of eyes boring into him.

In fact, it was as if they did not exist to him at all.

Instead, he simply turned his head, his gaze scanning the vast sea of noble guests and spectators watching from the grandstands.

A citizen.

He was considered a citizen of the Empire.

Which meant, by right, he was expected to join them— to go and sit among the other civilians, as one of them.

...To sit beside a bunch of nameless nobodies?

His gaze shifted once more.

His eyes fell upon a different section—beside the grandstands. There, a select few individuals watched him with silent intrigue, their eyes filled with expectation.

Judging by their composed demeanor, their aura of authority, and their vastly different appearances, Holak immediately understood.

They were not commoners.

They were representatives—ambassadors of different races and planets.

Perhaps… his place was among them?

TCH!

A sharp, dismissive spit hit the ground beside him.

Holak's gaze shifted once again—

This time, toward the platform where the Empire's Supreme Generals and Generals stood.

And without a sliver of hesitation—

He leaped.

BAAAAAAAAAAAM!

A tremor rattled the platform as Holak landed directly between Caesar's faction and Aro's faction. His entrance, though abrupt, was completely unshaken, as if the sheer force of his landing had never even registered to him.

He exhaled slowly, his deep voice rolling through the air with effortless confidence.

"Hello," he greeted, his tone entirely casual, as if he had just arrived fashionably late to a dinner party. "I was a little late. I know."

"...No one invited you to begin with," Caesar remarked, his golden eyes narrowing as he tilted his head slightly. Then, with a single gesture, he pointed toward the grandstands.

"Go sit over there," Caesar ordered, his voice carrying the weight of authority. "This platform is reserved for high-ranking officials of the Empire. There is no place for you here."

Before Holak could respond, a third voice swiftly cut in.

"There is no need for such harshness, Your Highness Caesar." Aro stepped forward at once, positioning himself between Caesar and Holak as if forming a barrier.

"Even if he does not yet hold an official title, he is still a hero—a warrior who played a crucial role in our victory against the Suppressive Great Serpent Empire. A hero deserves to be treated with respect."

"Are you seriously trying to lecture me on how to treat my own subjects now?" Caesar's golden gaze darkened, his once-loose arms unfolding as he pointed directly at Holak.

"He has been given multiple opportunities to join us—and yet he refused. Again. And again. And again. Am I supposed to carry him on my shoulders just because he graced us with his presence?"

Aro's expression remained neutral, but his voice remained firm, "Everyone has their own circumstances, Your Highness," he countered. "Perhaps he simply wishes to—"

"HEY!!"

Aro's words were cut short.

In an instant—

A hand had gripped his horns tightly.

And then, without warning, he was yanked backward—thrown aside as if he weighed nothing.

Then came the voice.

"Don't stand in front of me, you." Holak's voice was calm—too calm.

Aro stumbled slightly but quickly regained his footing, his expression unreadable.

Caesar, however—

Laughed.

A sharp, mocking chuckle escaped his lips as he watched the scene unfold.

"Hmph. That's what you get for sticking your nose where it doesn't belong," he sneered. "You've never dealt with this barbarian before—you don't even know what he is."

Then—

Step.

Holak took a single step forward, his towering figure looming over Caesar.

His hand—massive and powerful—slowly reached up.

And then—

With a single, fluid motion, he ran his thumb across Caesar's lips, "You don't need to trouble your little head with me, Coco," he muttered, his deep voice laced with something unreadable. "When your Papa arrives, I'll deal with him directly."

And with that—

He turned his back on them.

Then, without another word, he walked past them—his presence alone parting the factions like a blade through silk.

And finally—

He sat down.