Lord of the Truth

"…"Would you shut your mouth for a damn minute? Some of us are trying to focus here, you know."

"…?!" Robin's mind was struck like a thunderbolt. His eyes, which had been locked onto the wall with unwavering intensity, slowly, almost reluctantly, began to drift away from it. He turned his head gradually, a sense of unease crawling over him.

The room remained shrouded in darkness. The only source of illumination was a solitary candle, its faint flame casting just enough light to form vague, dancing shadows that clung to the edges of furniture and walls.

When Robin had first entered the room, his brain had instinctively registered it as empty—devoid of any presence. He had glimpsed, out of the corner of his eye, a few obscure shapes that could've been tables or chairs, but they hadn't seemed important. His focus had gone immediately to the walls, searching eagerly for the targets he believed were hidden there.

But now, things felt different. Now, he looked more carefully…

Under the dim, trembling glow of the candle, a shadow stirred behind one of the old chairs. Robin couldn't make out much—only a patch of wild, spiky hair poking above the backrest. That was all.

The fact that someone was here… someone he hadn't noticed before… that could only mean one thing. His breath caught in his throat. The implications hit him hard. With effort, he parted his lips to say something—anything.

But before he could, a voice reached his ears. "Heh heh… So full of energy, you young people. When you walked in, you rushed straight to the wall, didn't you? Just like I did all those eons ago…"

"…?!?!" Robin whipped his head in another direction. There—barely visible—he caught sight of a thin, weathered leg, old and frail, hanging down from a chair. The voice, heavy with age and memory, belonged to someone clearly nearing the end of his long life.

"Tsk~" muttered the spiky-haired figure. From behind the chair, a hand emerged, lazily pointing toward an empty seat nearby. "Hey, pull up a paper, sit down, and get to work. But don't expect me to offer you a helping hand."

"Heh heh… Don't mind him, brother," the old man chuckled again, his tone warmer this time. "When he first got here, he used to ask for help constantly. Still does, from time to time… from me and from the others."

"The others?" Robin's voice rose in curiosity as he took a cautious step forward. "There are more Truth Chosen here?"

"Heh heh, of course. Ever since I first stepped into this place—what, about nine hundred eighty-five thousand years ago, give or take—I've met nine others like you. That one over there, with the hair like a porcupine, he's one of them. Then there's another one who comes and goes every once in a while. As for the remaining seven… well, they stopped showing up a long, long time ago."

"So, including me, that makes four active Chosen of Truth who use this place?" Robin frowned slightly, thinking aloud. "That's more than I expected, considering I've never encountered a single one until now. But at the same time… it feels like far too few, given the sheer size of the universe. From what I understand, this chamber gathers Chosen from the entire Middle Belt—not just Sector 100!"

"…!!" The moment Robin uttered those last few words, he felt it—an immediate, sharp shift in the room's atmosphere. Eyes were on him. Intense eyes. The spiky-haired man's gaze in particular turned fierce, even hostile.

"That idiot… he has no idea what he's saying," the man growled, rising abruptly to his feet. "He just gave away his location with a single careless statement. I'm out of here."

Whoooosh!

In an instant, he vanished—gone like smoke in the wind.

"…What was that all about?" Robin pointed in disbelief at the now-empty chair.

A long silence followed. Then, at last, the old man's voice echoed again through the gloom. "Hmm… tell me, young man. Did you acquire your eyes lately, or perhaps recently ascend from the Young Belt?"

"I did ascend recently," Robin answered honestly. "I know I'm still new to all this—I've got a lot to learn. But seriously, what's the big deal with saying I'm from Sector 100? That sector alone has a countless number of planets. You could even say it's a universe in its own right!" Robin's brow tightened, frustration seeping into his tone.

"Come. Sit down," the old Truth Chosen gestured toward the nearest chair with a slow, deliberate hand. "There are a few things I need to say to you—as someone who has, against all odds, managed to survive far longer than most."

"…?!" Robin's brow tensed sharply, a flicker of caution and curiosity stirring within him. His instincts warned him to stay back, yet his legs betrayed that warning. Without realizing it, he found himself stepping forward, slowly closing the distance between them.

"I noticed you've decided to conceal your identity. That alone tells me you may not be entirely hopeless," the old man said with a low, dry chuckle. He then leaned forward, pushing his frail form further into the glow of the flickering candlelight, revealing himself fully to Robin for the first time.

"…" Robin's breath caught in his throat, and he reflexively stepped back, disturbed by what he saw.

The elder's head resembled that of a dark, weathered hound. Large, drooping ears hung on either side of his skull, and his face was a grotesque canvas of aged, sagging flesh. Layers of leathery, wrinkled skin folded over themselves, obscuring one eye entirely, and giving him the appearance of something neither fully human nor beast. Yet the rest of his body remained unmistakably human—thin, worn, but unmistakably humanoid.

"…You look… quite charming today," Robin muttered awkwardly, unsure whether it was sarcasm or a subconscious attempt to ease the tension.

The old man waved a bony hand with casual amusement. "Heh heh… No need to flatter or restrain yourself, boy. I'm well aware this avatar is hideous by most standards. But it suits me just fine—it represents who I am, in ways words cannot. It's a mask, much like the one you're wearing now. Though, to be entirely honest, my true form might be even more grotesque. So don't get any wild fantasies trying to imagine a nobler version of me—heh heh."

"A mask… like mine?" Robin repeated, intrigued. He lowered himself into the chair and called forth his status window. With a few gestures, he swiped through various panes until reaching a blank one—effectively turning it into a makeshift mirror. There, his reflection stared back.

His face was covered by a metallic silver mask, seamless and cold, adorned at the edges with small, menacing rivets. He tried to raise his eyebrows or even part his lips, but the mask didn't respond in the slightest. It remained completely rigid—immovable, as if bolted into his very bones.

"Listen carefully now, young man…" the old Truth Chosen began again, this time with a gravity that made Robin sit up straighter. "Do you recall the seven I mentioned earlier?"

"The ones who stopped coming?" Robin asked, his tone now more serious, his expression darkening slightly.

"Most likely… they're dead," the elder said bluntly, slapping his thigh as if to punctuate the grim truth. "That's the only explanation that makes any sense. No Truth Chosen, regardless of age or disposition, would willingly abandon the Truth Chamber for hundreds of thousands of years. Even someone like me—an old fossil who has renounced nearly everything—still finds his way back here from time to time. I come to earn a bit of sustenance, to maintain a place in the order of things, and perhaps… to offer something to this vast universe before I finally breathe my last."

"…I understand," Robin nodded slightly, absorbing the weight of the words. "But… why tell me all of this?"

"Because you're making the same mistakes they did," the old man said, his voice sharpening with sudden intensity. "We The Truth Chosen… we're not meant to be in the spotlight. Our path is one of shadows, not glory. Whether you live as a hidden civilian, quietly carrying out your work in the background, or whether you find a powerful figure to champion your cause and reveal your findings to the world on your behalf—either way, subtlety is the key."

He paused, letting the words settle.

"Some choose to join mighty factions or empires, aligning themselves with power in exchange for protection and resources. They act in silence, shielded from prying eyes. I'm certain you, too, have been faced with these choices—just as the rest of us have."

He leaned back slightly, then sighed, shaking his head slowly.

"…But then there are those few Chosen—heh, let's not call them fools outright—let's just say they were… too ambitious for their own good. They believed they could walk the path alone. That their Master Law made them invincible. That they were independent, above the system. But that's not how the universe works, my boy. Not at all."

His voice darkened.

"When someone raises a blade to your throat, you won't scare them off with your proud green eyes or fancy words. Strength alone doesn't protect you. Especially not when you flaunt it carelessly."

He leaned forward once again, his gaze piercing.

"I won't ask you what form of protection you've chosen, or who backs you—if anyone. That's your business. But remember this, and remember it well: as a Truth Chosen, silence is your greatest ally. Even if you have aligned yourself with an empire or a mighty organization, keep your mouth shut. Always. Because in this universe, there's always a greater empire out there—stronger, hungrier. And if word gets out that such a power has a Truth Chosen within its ranks… it won't end well. A war will erupt—either to take you for themselves, or to destroy you before you can tip the scales."

His voice grew colder.

"None of them—none of the great powers—want their enemies to have a Truth Master at their side."

Then, leaning in so closely Robin could see the lines etched into the folds of his monstrous face, he whispered:

"Those seven… they spoke too freely. They trusted each other far more than they should have. And we believe… one of them—maybe all of them—betrayed the others. Their voices, their truths… became their downfall. And in the end, their silence came too late."