Lord of the Truth

Five Days Later —

"Haaaah~~" Robin stretched his arms skyward, arching his back with a satisfying crack as he twisted his neck from side to side. A long exhale followed, as if he'd just set down the weight of a mountain.

"Finally, as much fun as it was, It took too long...!" he muttered, almost in disbelief.

With pride swelling in his chest, he lifted the large board in both hands, raising it toward the ceiling as though it were a divine artifact. A wide, self-satisfied grin spread across his face.

"Damn, this is absolutely magnificent!" he exclaimed, admiring the elegant complexity of what he had drawn.

"I'd bet my hair that this solution is ten times better than the original! Maybe even more!"

Turning the board slightly, he angled it so Pitsu—still frozen beside the bed—could see it too.

"You're no stranger to this process, right?" Robin chuckled.

"You've been silently watching every stroke of the brush for days. So come on, take a good look. Feast your eyes on what I've created."

He pointed to the dense interweaving of sigils, calligraphy, and pattern-based logic etched across the board.

"This martial art was originally designed as a fusion of two minor laws of the Water and Wind paths," he explained, his voice filled with scholarly excitement.

"When activated, it would generate high-speed liquid blades—perfect for cutting off fleeing targets or raining chaos during wide-area battles."

He paused, eyes gleaming with pride.

"But the missing page... it held the core link between the two elements. The key that made them work in harmony. And I didn't just patch that key—I reinvented it from scratch."

"I went a step further and infused a third law—Frost. By layering intense cold into the water flow, the blades now freeze mid-flight into dense shards of ice. That increases their penetration power dramatically. What was once just a cutting technique is now a devastating piercing strike that can reach deep into the enemy's core!"

He stepped back and gave the board one final look, almost reverently.

"I didn't just repair this technique... I elevated its value severalfold!"

"...….."

"…." Robin's triumphant expression faded as silence lingered like a wet cloth. He glanced sideways.

"Okay, that's enough. I'll release you now. Talking to a frozen audience kind of kills the vibe."

He placed his hand flat against Pitsu's unmoving chest. A focused stream of soul energy flowed from Robin's palm into the body.

Moments later, the flow reversed, and a portion of soul force began returning to Robin.

And then—

"AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!"

The scream that erupted was less human and more like the sound of a soul being torn apart.

A shriek only a master of the Law of Sound could produce.

It was thunderous, agonizing, raw.

But Robin didn't flinch. He stood there, eyes calm, listening carefully.

Because he knew this wasn't an attack.

No. This was something far worse.

This was the wail of sheer, mind-breaking terror.

The howl of a prisoner finally released from days of sensory deprivation, locked in darkness, unable to scream, unable to blink, unable to breathe.

—SLAP!!—

Robin's hand moved fast, delivering a sharp, open-palm strike to the side of Pitsu's face.

"Get a grip!" he snapped.

—THUD!—

Pitsu dropped to the floor like a rag doll. The strike wasn't even strong—Robin wasn't nearly powerful enough to cause harm—but it felt appropriate. The shock alone was enough to make Pitsu collapse.

Even lying there, he didn't question it. His body agreed with the reaction.

"Ahh… haah… huhh…!"

Pitsu began crawling backward on the floor, limbs trembling violently. His face was frozen in a contorted mask of terror. The mischief that usually danced in his eyes was gone—replaced with raw panic.

He didn't think of the dried guts of the fly still smeared in his eye.

He didn't notice that he'd stopped breathing.

He didn't notice anything.

"Why are you running? Why are you running?!" Robin took three quick steps forward.

"Stop acting like a scared rabbit, or I swear I'll pin you down myself!"

"A-ah...!"

The moment the direct command registered, Pitsu's body went stiff. He froze flat on the ground, limbs locking up like a puppet caught in mid-step.

Robin stared at him, then sighed heavily and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

"Calm down," he said gently, waving a hand in a soothing motion.

"Just breathe, alright? In… out… yeah. That's better."

He knelt slightly, bringing himself closer to Pitsu's level.

"Listen… don't look at me like I'm some monster. You're the one who tried to steal from me, remember?"

"All I did was lock your soul inside your body for a few days. No pain, no damage, no tricks. Just a timeout."

Pitsu's eyes widened even further at those words. A few tears, long suppressed, began to form and tremble at the edges of his vision.

"..."

The silence hung heavy for a moment, like the breath before a storm.

Seeing the twisted expression of fear and confusion on Pitsu's face, Robin exhaled long and slow. His eyes softened for just a heartbeat, then he crouched down fluidly—like a predator deciding whether to pounce or not. With both hands, he began massaging his scalp, fingers digging through his own hair, as though trying to knead out the tension that had coiled inside his skull.

"Alright... maybe I went a little too far with the whole shoe thing," he muttered, his voice lower now, almost contemplative. "But seriously, what's the big deal with a bit of intimidation? You were planning to rob me, weren't you?"

His gaze flicked upward toward Pitsu, and a lopsided smile formed at the edge of his mouth. The smile of a man who had stared too long into chaos—and found it amusing.

"Do you even know how much I restrained myself from dealing with you properly?"

He let out a dark chuckle—dry, cold, like gravel sliding across bone.

Then, slowly, he raised his arm and pointed directly at Pitsu, his finger like the tip of a loaded weapon.

"The last poor soul who tried to rob me in a cave... I tested one of my newer techniques on him—fixed-molecule distortion. You should've seen it. He spent twelve hours feeling like shattered glass was running through his veins. "

Robin's smile widened slightly, his eyes alight with an unsettling joy.

"He died screaming. Not from blood loss. Not from any injury. Just... pure. Unfiltered. Pain..."

"Aghh!!"

Pitsu screamed, unable to stop himself. Instinct took over and he began crawling backward in a panicked frenzy, as though distance could somehow shield him from this madman's words.

But it didn't last long.

"Stop."

Robin's voice came out sharp and commanding—laced with a quiet, unspoken authority that snapped against the air like a whip.

And Pitsu froze. His muscles locked up. His body disobeyed his own will.

Robin straightened with a sigh, brushing off imaginary dust from his jacket as if to regain composure. The theatrics faded from his tone.

"Alright, maybe you don't think any of this is funny. That's fair."

He took a step forward, his boots echoing ominously on the floor.

"But I wasn't joking. It is the truth."

He began pacing, slow and deliberate, like a judge issuing a final verdict.

"I ran through hundreds of possible scenarios for you. Hundreds."

"You see, you were my first World Calamity prisoner during . You don't know how rare that is for someone like me. I had plans—elaborate ones."

Robin paused, then tilted his head with a crooked grin.

"I even considered dissecting you. just enough to peek inside and see what makes your peculiar little body tick."

He took another step forward, his expression hardening.

"But I resisted. I showed restraint. Do you even know what that cost me?"

He raised a single finger—one digit representing a mountain of sacrifice.

"Ten thousand units. Gone. Every single day I kept you like that. Ten. Thousand. A day."

"That's not some minor inconvenience. That's a strategic sacrifice. That's me putting morality—or something like it—ahead of profit, power, and curiosity."

He leaned in, his face now just a few feet from Pitsu's.

"So tell me... How exactly do you plan to repay me? How do you intend to thank me for not breaking you down into data and dust?"

"Kiiiihh!!"

Pitsu's face contorted into an expression of sheer terror. He looked as if he wanted to burrow through the very floor, to disappear entirely from the world.

Every molecule in his body quivered with belief. He knew Robin was telling the truth. He felt it.

But still… he didn't move. The command still held him like chains of iron and fire.

"...Tch~"

Robin clicked his tongue, looking down at him with a strange mixture of disgust, disappointment, and maybe… just maybe… a sliver of reluctant mercy.

"I was going to untie you, toy with you for a bit. You know, loosen things up. Put you back in for a few more days of fun."

He shrugged casually.

"But… it seems that's not necessary anymore."

Turning his back, Robin waved the conversation away like smoke.

"Even if you are older than me… you're still just a child. And I don't kill children. Not with my own hands, at least~"

—Krkk—

With practiced precision, he rolled up the floating diagram that had hovered in the air, compressed it, and slipped it into his spatial ring with a flick of his fingers.

Without another glance, Robin walked toward the front door—each step calm, unhurried.

And then he was gone.

Leaving Pitsu alone. Still. Silent. Trembling in the aftermath of madness.

-------------

Inside the Soul Society branch– Planet Zaron

Within an enormous white chamber—its surfaces so polished they seemed to glow—Robin stood motionless. His eyes closed, his posture tall, his aura unreadable.

Then, a soft, artificial voice echoed all around him, as if whispered directly into his mind:

<Welcome back, Mr. Human. Would you like to proceed to the Main Hall? Or the Chamber of Truth perhaps?>

Robin lifted a hand slowly, deliberately, his tone formal but heavy with intention.

"Before I proceed… there's something I need to ask first."

<Of course, Mr. Human. How may I assist you?>

The fairy's voice was smooth, flawless, but distinctly artificial. It smiled the way a program was designed to—precise, polite, sterile.

"I intend to spend a significant amount of time in the Chamber of Truth," Robin said, voice low, controlled.

"I'll be handling an enormous number of requests. Dozens. Hundreds, maybe."

A pause. A flicker of hesitation.

"What I need to know is—can I leave completed requests visible? Even after I'm done with them?"

A few seconds passed. Then the sprite replied, carefully:

<Requests are binding declarations. The poster pledges payment in return for a solution. However, we routinely remove listings if the poster becomes insolvent. If we left all solved requests hanging around, another Chosen might accidentally accept one. That would disrupt protocol.>

Robin's brow furrowed slightly, but he didn't back down.

"Just leave them for now. If anyone tries to accept one, then remove it. That's all I'm asking."

He crossed his arms.

"These requests have been floating in that system for millennia. Tens of thousands of years, even. No one's touching them. They all go after the flashy, new ones."

His voice dropped, darkening like a storm on the horizon.

"Truth is… I need this. If the others saw how fast I'm completing papers—how deep I can go—they maybe turn on me. I need a cover."

He looked directly at the sprite projection.

"Help me with this. Or I'll be forced to limit myself. And that won't just hold me back. It'll weaken your whole system, too."

Silence.

The fairy's eyes closed—calculating. Simulating probabilities. Processing potential consequences.

Then, softly:

<Very well. Complete one of those old requests first. Based on your performance, we'll determine whether to authorize your proposal.>

Robin smirked, the tension breaking.

"Oh, that'll be easy."

He flicked his wrist—and a glowing interface expanded into the air before him, its contents shifting like code.

<…...>