Lord of the Truth

Three days later—

Crack… Crackle…

"Ughmm…"

A groan escaped the withered lips of the blind old man as his senses slowly returned to him. He stirred, attempting instinctively to push himself up with his right arm—

But there was nothing there.

Nothing to push with.

Nothing to feel.

He paused.

"...So it wasn't just a nightmare after all..." he whispered hoarsely, then slowly raised his only remaining hand—his left—and covered his face.

What settled over him wasn't just pain.

It was a fatigue so ancient, so deep, that it seemed to stretch back to the dawn of creation.

A heaviness not of the body, but of time.

Tens of millions of years of service, of sacrifice, of purpose without recognition.

Tens of millions of years spent stabilizing the cosmic threads...

Tens of millions fending off the hungering beasts of the void...

Tens of millions confronting tyrants who tried to warp the laws for their own greed...

And all of it—not for himself—but for the universe. For harmony. For balance.

And in the end?

Balance itself condemned him.

What had gone wrong?

He had offered half his remaining life—a sacrifice so vast it could split galaxies—

This was half the life of the ONLY user of the Sixth-Stage Master of Balance to even exist, where each single day was equivalent to millions of years for almost everyone else.

He had done everything correctly.

He had ripped away the Law of Truth from Robin—utterly.

At that moment, the boy had been left as pure as a newborn.

Perhaps his green Eye of Truth would remain, just like the old man's did, but the essence of the Truth Law was gone.

Or so he thought.

It was only when he began to inscribe the patterns of Balance into Robin's energy core that things fell apart. The m^ost- up$‑-t^o.‑*d^a+te ver*si$o@n! is on M4VLEM-P4YR..

One after the other, his meticulously drawn patterns disappeared, as if the very world had rejected their presence.

Then—the patterns of Truth returned. Unbidden. Impossible.

And before he could even speak a word—

The Golden Scale descended from the sky, in silence, and judged him.

It took his arm.

Then his leg.

Without warning. Without mercy.

Why?

The Law of Balance had always been simple.

If you sacrifice fairly, it accepts.

If your intent is just, it remains silent.

If your will is pure, it supports you.

So why?

Why did it feel—at that very moment—that Truth itself had summoned Balance?

As if it whispered across the heavens,

'Look what this man is doing to my chosen... deal with him.'

Crackle... Crackle...

"Hmm?"

The old man's senses sharpened. He heard that noise again—soft, steady popping.

The same noise that had pulled him out of unconsciousness.

He extended his soul sense, weak but sharp—

And his empty eyes widened.

"Ahh!"

A gasp left his mouth.

He was lying on a bed of leaves, near the shoreline of the same forgotten island.

And directly beside him… was a monkey.

No, not just any monkey.

It had huge lips, long dangling arms that brushed the ground, a massive belly, and was covered in white fur streaked with golden patterns.

It was staring at him—face uncomfortably close—as if trying to count the pores on his weathered skin one by one.

Then a calm voice spoke:

"I see you're awake. That's good."

"…?"

The old man reached out with his soul sense again—wider, more focused.

He found Robin, sitting near a small campfire, turning a few fish skewers over the flames.

Using his left arm only, the old man propped himself into a seated position with effort.

"I see… you're still here," he said, voice rough.

"Of course I am," Robin replied immediately.

"How could I abandon an old man and walk away? That's not how I was raised."

The old man nodded faintly, then gestured weakly toward the ancient spatial portal in the distance.

"It's clean now… cleared of moss and vines.

The control panel has dents and even bite marks… Seems my portal gave you some trouble while you were 'looking after' this old man."

"…Want a fish?" Robin cut in smoothly, changing the subject.

What else could he say?

Of course he'd tried to escape the moment the old man collapsed.

But that portal—

That cursed portal—

Refused to activate.

There was nothing broken. Nothing missing.

It was simply… sealed.

"…I wouldn't mind a fish," the old man muttered. "But you'll have to remove the bones and spines. I've got no teeth left, as you can see."

"Right away!"

Robin clapped his hands sharply, and from the waves emerged a white-and-gold crab, carrying a chunk of sea salt in its claws.

Robin took the salt and began gently rubbing it across the grilled fish, smiling faintly.

"…"

The old man blinked slowly.

"This is the first time I've seen a Soul Master use their soul creatures in this way.

Usually, soul creatures are summoned for battle, then returned to the domain to recover.

But your creatures… they're different.

That crab moves like it's alive.

I can sense several land-bound soul creatures roaming freely on this island… and others, airborne, circling the entire planet."

He paused, confused.

"They all feel… independent. As if they're not just summons, but true lifeforms."

Robin watched the crab skitter back into the sea to fetch more salt, then replied thoughtfully,

"Hmm. Is there really a difference?

I never really thought about it, to be honest…"

He looked down at the golden runes glowing faintly on his palm.

"…But maybe it's because my entire soul domain is only made of pure soul essence."

"How did you manage to pull something like this off?" the old man asked without the slightest pause, his voice low but tinged with a curiosity that couldn't be masked. There was no doubt—he needed to understand.

Soul Essence—

Only born from the capture and refinement of initial souls—souls that floated aimlessly through the vast, invisible currents of the world.

These initial souls so rare and elusive that even encountering one was an event worthy of record, that was the work of fortune, timing, and a spark of providence.

Even Soul Masters who had honed their arts for millennia—masters with secret techniques passed down through blood and oaths—had no real control over them. At best, they could only increase the odds slightly, guiding their soul senses like fishing lines cast into the divine ocean. But even then, those odds were cruel.

As a result, they still had to rely on the steady, ever-present flow of ordinary soul force. The difference between them was like the difference between thunder and breeze—one shook the heavens, the other simply passed by.

Normally, a soul domain with a capacity of 100,000 units would contain about 99,000 units of ordinary soul force, and maybe 1,000 units—if one was lucky—of soul essence.

Even the elite among elites, with specialized techniques and affinity with soul currents, could only hope to reach a 20% ratio of soul essence to normal energy—and even that was seen as the mark of someone who had walked with dragons.

Robin, however, had rewritten that balance entirely.

"It just so happens I created a decent technique to attract stray initial souls," he said, tone casual—bordering on amused—as if he were talking about catching fish in a lazy river, not rewriting what most considered universal term.

He turned his back to the old man, reaching down to adjust one of the roasting fish skewers. The firelight reflected off his focused eyes.

"Then I created another technique—one that allows me to retrofit and refine any point in my soul domain, converting it from ordinary soul force to pure soul essence. I repeated the process over and over... until I hit a 100% purity ratio in my domain."

He paused, watching the flames, letting the silence emphasize the enormity of his words.

"Of course, I had some good luck along the way. My soul domain happens to have a rubber-like attribute, so absorbing and compressing energy is far more... efficient."

He offered all this information openly, not withholding much—at least, not on the surface.

He didn't bother mentioning the darker, almost forbidden nature of his Soul-Filling Technique. No, that truth was better left buried—at least for now.

"Amazing..."

The old man breathed the word more than spoke it, shaking his head as if in awe or disbelief.

He let out a long, weathered sigh, his voice cracked like an ancient scroll unraveling.

"Forget the master laws for a second... With a domain like that, you're already a prodigy among Soul Masters. Honestly, with proper time, your future would be limitless."

"Heh~" Robin chuckled softly, still facing the fire. "I'm not so sure about that."

He grabbed the skewers by their edges, lifting two fish over the flames as heat shimmered in the air.

"Truth is, I'm not worried about limits. I'm worried I might not survive my current mission long enough to even reach the title of Royal Soul Master."

Then, with a casual pace, he turned and approached the old man, grin widening just slightly as he walked.

Once close, he extended one of the roasted fish skewers—a particularly ugly looking one, deformed, bloated, and charred in odd angles.

"Here you go—sea dung fish. Boneless, spineless, morally questionable, and probably cursed."

The old man blinked slowly, baffled by how hideous the fish looked. His lips parted to say something, but instead he looked up at Robin's face, seeing the flicker of amusement dancing in his eyes.

"...You're still mad at me, aren't you?"

"If you don't want it, I'll take it back," Robin replied flatly, holding out his hand again like a merchant retrieving unwanted goods.

"No, no—it's fine."

The old man pulled his hand back quickly and took a hearty bite, the hot meat hissing between his toothless mouth.

Truth was, he needed it. His body had been pushed to the edge of death.

He'd sacrificed half his remaining life force, then another quarter trying to force the Balance runes to stick. His condition was worse than he'd care to admit.

Who knew when—or if—he'd ever have the strength to cook for himself again?

"...By the way," he muttered between chews, trying not to choke on the fish bones he prayed weren't there.

"Hmm?" Robin responded absently, still struggling to take a bite of his own burning hot meal, blowing on it with mild frustration.

The old man raised a weakened hand, gesturing vaguely right next to his face where a strange white-and-gold monkey was crouched, scratching its oversized belly and staring at them both with an unsettling intensity.

"...Is that monkey going to be staying around for much longer?"