Lord of the Truth

"Let's just slow down for a moment, alright?!" Neri waved her hands frantically, her expression caught somewhere between panic and frustration. "First off, when it comes to the Soul Altars—even if you somehow decide to cancel them and just absorb the raw initial souls directly—do you honestly believe your only problem is your soul domain stretching too fast? Did you forget about the Heart Specters? The Black pits? Have you really forgotten all of that so quickly?!"

"Hmmm… you've got a point," Robin's soul avatar brought a hand to his chin, pondering her words for a few brief seconds. Then, a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "Still... what's life without a little risk? A bit of extra speed never killed anyone, right?"

BZZZZZT!!

With a single motion of his hand, all the Soul Altars surrounding them flared to life—only this time, they surged with twice the intensity. The number of drills emerging from each of the white orbs instantly multiplied, whirring with terrifying speed as they went to work without hesitation. In the blink of an eye, the amount of soul force being harvested from each orb doubled, at the very least.

"Maybe hitting a million soul units won't take thousands of years like I first estimated," Robin muttered with growing excitement, a fire of ambition beginning to burn in his eyes. "Maybe… it'll be sooner. Much sooner."

For years, he had thought all the times he narrowly escaped death were just lucky coincidences. Because of that, he'd put up chains on his own growth—self-imposed limits, born from fear. Every time his soul strength grew by even a fraction, Evergreen and Neri had been there to warn him, to caution him. And each time, he had yielded. He had slowed down.

But not anymore.

WHAP!

Neri's foot slammed into his shin with a thud.

"OWW!" Robin winced in real pain, even his soul projection reeling from the blow. "What the hell was that for?!"

"To bring you back to your senses!" Neri stomped her foot against the ground, visibly annoyed. "Yes, the Elastic Soul Domain trait is incredible. No doubt about that. It explains so many things we never understood before. But you don't even know its proper name, let alone the extent of its capabilities! And we, as planetary spirits, don't have access to specialized knowledge about rare soul traits like that. That's not our domain. You must study it thoroughly before making any major decisions."

She jabbed her finger toward him again, emphasizing each word. "At the very least, you need to understand its limits. How far can your soul domain really stretch before it snaps? I don't know much about this trait, but even I know—no matter how big or magnificent a balloon is, every balloon has a bursting point. Push too hard, and it will explode."

Robin sighed, running a hand through his messy spiritual hair, finally showing a hint of restraint. "Alright, alright… maybe I'll wait until I reach 500,000 soul units before refining a new planet. That seems like a safer milestone."

Refining a planet was no small feat. Each one refined would double his spiritual strength in an instant. It was, without question, the most efficient and direct path to overwhelming power in the entire universe.

"Good," Neri nodded approvingly. "Before this discovery, I would've argued against it—too dangerous. But now? Your trait will almost certainly stabilize your soul domain enough to endure the strain of another planetary refinement. You just need to make sure you pick the right planet."

"Heh. Why should I stress about that?" Robin chuckled, his confidence returning. "Isn't soul doubling the same gift for every planetary spirit, without exception? I could just close my eyes and choose one at random."

He was already making plans again—already thinking two steps ahead.

"Oh really?" Neri crossed her arms, unimpressed. "So you're okay with being permanently bound to some idiotic planetary spirit or a completely useless planetary gift for the rest of your life? You got lucky with me. I happened to have a deep affinity toward a fundamental law. That's rare. If you want to gain the maximum benefit, you should look for another planet whose soul has an affinity with a fundamental law. Otherwise, you're throwing away potential."

"…Can't I just refine a smaller one, then discard it later?" Robin scratched his head. "I mean, I feel like I could cut the connection between me and you—or even Evergreen—if I wanted to. So couldn't I just do the same with a new planet after refining it?"

"…Heh~" Neri shook her head slowly, pitying his naivety. "Did you really think the law maker would allow for such an obvious loophole?"

"What do you mean by that?" Robin's head snapped toward her, a nervous smile twitching at the edges of his mouth.

"The moment a planetary spirit is stolen from you—or even if you choose to sever the connection yourself—you'll instantly lose half of your current soul force," Neri said grimly, pointing directly downward, as though marking his inevitable fall.

"Half?!" Robin shouted in shock, eyes wide, almost disbelieving what he had just heard. "...Wait, do you mean I'd only lose the power given to me by that planet? Like, say—Evergreen doubled my soul strength from three thousand to six thousand. If I let her go, I'd only lose the extra three thousand, right? That's all, isn't it?"

To Robin, this was the critical point. Right now, reaching the Purple Soul Domain was his highest priority—it was the key to solving Jabba's predicament. After that? Losing a few thousand units wouldn't be the end of the world… or so he thought.

"Hey!! You better not even think about ditching me!!" Evergreen suddenly snapped from across the field, pausing mid-battle just to yell. But before she could say more, BAM!!—the mighty soul creature Pythor finally caught up to her and sent her flying through the air with a devastating kick.

Neri smiled softly at the scene, then turned back to Robin, her tone shifting from playful to deadly serious. "No, Owner. Not just the extra. I mean exactly what I said—half. If you abandon Evergreen now, your entire soul domain will begin to collapse inward, violently. Half of it will be forcibly and irrevocably ripped from your being. It won't matter how strong your foundation is—this will happen immediately and without mercy. That half won't just fade—it'll be obliterated, leaving behind a fractured, unstable wreck of a soul domain. Yes, on paper, it will seem like you still have fifty percent of your original power—but in reality, that remnant will be so unstable and fragile that you'll barely function."

Robin's entire body stiffened. His mind flew back to that terrifying moment when he had torn out a tiny sliver of his soul domain to forge a spirit shard. Even that small operation had pushed him to the brink of death. His body had trembled. His vision had blacked out. It was like part of his essence had been carved away with fire. And now she was talking about losing half—randomly, destructively?!

"I said you'd be left with a tattered soul domain—not that you would die," Neri continued, her gaze steady, "because you, Robin, possess the Elastic Soul Domain trait. That rare gift might save you—might help your soul survive such devastation and slowly recover. But let me be clear: most people don't have your luck. When a refined planet is forcefully taken from someone, the result is almost always fatal. Sometimes they die instantly. Sometimes it takes years. But the outcome is always tragic. Just the thought of it is enough to send shivers down the spine of any soul cultivator. And yet here you are, talking about refining and discarding planets like it's no different than changing clothes!"

She raised one elegant finger. "Let me teach you a little statistic. You remember how we talked about the Sectors? Each sector, on average, contains more than 100,000 stable planets that are suitable for refining."

Robin nodded slowly. He did remember. That conversation had stuck with him.

"Now consider this," Neri said, her voice sharp. "The time planets spend in a Young Sector is nothing compared to the millions of years they spend in a Middle Sector. Some say the Middle Sector stretches out over a hundred million years of evolution. So let's be generous. Let's assume there are one million stable, unrefined planets currently drifting in the Middle Sector No.100. That's where real wars erupt. Where emperors, clans, and academies clash for dominance. So tell me, Robin—do you think all of those planets are currently refined?"

Robin almost blurted out "Of co—!" It made perfect sense. Every Soul Emperor had loyal followers—trusted vassals eager to grow stronger. If an emperor controlled a hundred planets, surely he'd refine some and distribute the rest among his most trusted allies. It was only natural.

But then he stopped. A memory surged back—Rinara's words echoed in his mind.

She'd said that out of the 91 planets she'd tracked, 86 had changed hands multiple times. They had been conquered, traded, taken, and lost between empires over centuries. If those planets had already been refined by powerful soul cultivators, then each change in ownership would have meant someone's death. And if those planets weren't refined, it meant something far more chilling: that soul cultivators feared refining them.

"…Looks like you finally understand," Neri said with quiet satisfaction, nodding slowly. "Even though the dream of immortality burns in everyone's hearts, very few actually dare to refine a planet. Because once they do, they paint a target on their own back. That planet becomes the easiest way to kill them—or, at the very least, to maim their soul permanently."

She raised another finger for emphasis. "Only the extremely powerful, the supremely confident, or the absolutely insane dare to refine a planet, knowing it might drag them straight to their grave."

"You already have two glaring vulnerabilities—me, and Evergreen," Neri said with a frown. "And now you want to go out and refine just any random third planet you happen to see? Please, Owner. Show a little more respect for your own life."

Robin let out a long sigh, then pressed his fingers hard between his brows, as if trying to physically push the thoughts out of his head. "As always… you never let me celebrate anything, do you?" he groaned. "You just had to dump more things into my head—more consequences, more calculations—"

Suddenly, he froze.

His hand stopped mid-motion.

His eyes shot open.

"…Something's happening to my physical body outside."