Lord of the Truth

"...."

Robin's eyes remained locked on the blind old man for what felt like an eternity.

He didn't blink. He didn't breathe.

He simply stared—silent, still, as if even time itself paused to watch.

And then, like a weary soul weighed down by revelation,

his head began to lower—slowly, solemnly—until his gaze met the sand at his feet,

his eyes clouded not with fear, nor confusion, but something deeper…

A sense of being unmoored—as if the foundation beneath his thoughts had shifted.

The wind carried nothing but the whisper of waves brushing the shore…

Waaak

Shooo—

And for several minutes, neither of them spoke.

The world itself seemed to hold its breath.

Then, in a voice as soft as the tide, Robin murmured,

"…Just a moment ago, the sea retreated.

And based on the Law of Causality, a long wave should arrive any moment now—

one strong enough to reach the shore and take this little stone in front of me back into the depths.

But if what you said about the Law of Truth is correct…

Then maybe… maybe the wave won't come.

Or worse… maybe the stone itself will start moving on its own in another direction against the natural flow.

Against reason.

Against the very rules of the world.

Is that what you're saying?"

The old man's lips curled faintly. His voice, like a whisper carried on the wind, replied:

"Without the Law of Truth to anchor the universe…

Perhaps there is no wave.

Perhaps there never was a stone."

And as if the universe heard their conversation and sought to answer it—

Shooooo—!

A long, deliberate wave rolled ashore. Publication courtesy of M|V|LE-MPYR.

Just as Robin had predicted.

It gently swept the small stone from before his feet,

dragging it back into the embrace of the sea,

to begin a journey guided by causality…

a journey that might span centuries, perhaps even eons, beneath the deep.

Robin blinked once. Then again.

He nodded—slowly, thoughtfully—as if a weight had just shifted in his chest.

"…May I ask," he said, his voice steadier now,

"Where exactly did you come by that explanation of the Law of Truth, You, a wielder of Balance? I've reached the fourth stage of the Master Law Truth,

and never—not once—did such an interpretation occur to me."

"From Azramid," the old man replied, lifting his face as if to drink the sky.

"He was… a close friend of mine. Perhaps the only one who ever truly understood."

"Azramid? The madman?

The infamous Great Truth Chosen who rigged his own inventions with traps?

The one people claim had lost his mind?"

Robin scoffed, turning his head in disbelief.

"By your account, he barely reached the fifth stage—just one rank above my own.

Why should he have any greater insight than me?"

"Rumors often distort truth," the old man said coldly.

"Brother Azramid died hated, feared, ridiculed…

But make no mistake—he lived for nothing but the pursuit of truth.

He was like you—Chosen in every sense of the word."

The old man's brow furrowed.

"More importantly… Azramid lived longer than you, Robin.

Much longer.

And time is a teacher more brutal and more honest than any master.

Even if you never surpass the fourth stage,

if you lived as long as he did,

you would understand things far beyond your current grasp.

Surely you see that?"

Robin looked down briefly, then lifted his head.

"…I believe he worked hard.

And those who strive are bound to shine... or stumble."

The old man chuckled. "Oh? And what flaw do you find in my explanation then, mighty Great Truth Chosen?"

"I know you see me as a child next to your old friend,

and you have every right to.

But as long as his theory remains a personal interpretation,

I reserve the right to question it."

Robin turned again toward the sea, his voice steady yet thoughtful:

"…Your explanation is well-structured. I can't find fault in its logic.

The premise that everything is truly something—a foundation of existence—is essential to continuing life itself.

But…" he turned his eyes back to the old man,

"I simply cannot accept that this is everything Truth is.

I can't believe this… is the end of it."

"You're being irrational," the old man said, irritation bleeding into his tone.

"You're rejecting a model that you yourself admit is sound—just because someone else reached it before you?

I expected better."

"Think what you will," Robin said with quiet steel.

"But I stand by my word.

What you described might be a portion of Truth…

But it isn't the whole.

Something—something—is missing in Azramid's interpretation.

I can feel it."

"What you feel," the old man growled, "doesn't matter.

You will not walk that path any longer.

Today, you shall become a wielder of Balance."

He raised his hand sharply, cutting Robin off before he could speak.

"There is no point in you pursuit of Truth.

there can be no application of it.

Why?

Because the moment you try to change the truth of the universe using the Law of Truth…

It ceases to be truth.

It collapses upon itself.

It is a paradox—a self-destroying loop.

That eye glowing under your forehead? It's nothing but a consolation prize.

A gift for chasing a path with no reward."

Robin let out a sharp laugh, "Didn't you say it was dangerous? Capable of ending the world?"

"…That," the old man muttered, turning away,

"is merely speculation… speculation regarding the seventh and final stage of the Law of Truth."

"And it wasn't just Azramid who foresaw that potential," he added gravely.

"All five of the great truth chosen saw it.

We, the wielders of master laws who've lived long enough to glimpse beyond the veil…

We all reached the same conclusion."

His voice dropped into silence for a moment, heavy with ancient certainty, "It is the cause without doubt."

"…What are you talking about?" Robin frowned deeply.

"…In the Young Belt, for a planet to ascend to the Middle Belt, it inhabitants must spend 500,000 cultivating.

But before even a single person on those young planets learns the basics of cultivation, those worlds drift endlessly through the vastness of space—for hundreds of millions, even billions of years."

"Billions of years..." The old man repeated, then he turned to Robin "…If there are planets that ancient… if the universe itself is truly that old…

Then why—why—is there no record of anything that happened before 97.8 million years ago?!"

"…Huh!?"

Robin had expected many things.

But not that question.

"Is this some kind of conspiracy theory?"

"Why is no one alive from before that number? Why is there no technology, no history, not even a scrap of paper that tells us anything?"

The old man stepped forward, his voice tightening.

"We have beings like Interas and Morpheus, like me and Sevar—we've lived long, searched deeply… and yet we've found nothing! No trace at all!"

Then, he asked urgently,

"Forget the Middle Belt—if you went to the Young Belt right now, you wouldn't find a single clue about what existed before 97.8 million years ago,

even though every single one of those planets clearly lived through that era.

Why, Robin? Why?"

"…Maybe because those planets ascended to the Ancient Belt?" Robin offered, confused.

"The Planet Spirit told me the Middle Belt only spans from 500,000 to 100 million years!"

"That's nonsense. Nothing ascends. There isn't a single planet that's actually reached 100 million years of martial arts history yet.

It's a lie—something we tell the masses to keep order.

But that lie is about to unravel.

Only 2.2 million years left, and the first batch of planets will officially hit the 100-million-year cultivation history mark—

And then the truth will collapse on itself."

He paused, then said it clearly:

"The truth is… we have a lost history."

"…That's… massive," Robin muttered, his brow furrowing.

"But what does any of that have to do with the Law of Truth?"

The old man raised his voice:

"How can it not be related?!

Many of us believe that a wielder of the Law of Truth…

once erased the universe itself!"