Lord of the Truth

Robin quickly clicked on Lord Hedrik's message.

Immediately, that familiar face appeared in front of him—partially hidden behind that wild mane of hair. But this time, for the first time ever, the expression was somewhat... soft. There was no trace of the usual hostility he had displayed toward everyone else during the auction.

("Lord Robin Burton, hasn't the time come to discuss the agreement you initiated during the auction? Or have you gone back on your word?")

"The agreement? ...The agreement!!" Robin slapped his forehead hard, a flash of realization hitting him like a hammer.

He had promised Lord Hedrik that if he stopped bidding against him and allowed Robin to win the auction, he would lend him the precious item when the time came for Hedrik to upgrade his Galaxy Seed!

But everything that had happened afterward, one major event after another, had completely driven that promise out of his mind. And more importantly...

Robin furrowed his brow tightly as he glanced at the date the message had arrived—it was sent two or three years after the auction had ended!

"What's going on... Was the upgrade of his Galaxy Seed really that close?! That message came more than 65 years ago... Don't tell me I've already upgraded and the war over it happened while I wasn't paying attention? No way... If I've broken my promise like that, I may have made an eternal enemy out of him..." Robin muttered nervously, anxiety tightening in his chest.

Had he been in his physical body, beads of sweat would definitely be visible on his forehead by now. His instincts screamed at him that he might've messed up big time.

The fairy interjected quickly upon hearing those worried words.

<There's no need to worry about that, Lord Human. There hasn't been any major news or public activity in the Soul Society related to Lord Hedrik's Planet.>

"Oh? That's... reassuring at least…" Robin sighed in relief, but the tension in his shoulders didn't fully ease.

"So what does he want from me, then? Does he expect to receive the Planetary Displacement Gear immediately? Thinks I bought it just to deliver it to him the next day? Tsk~ I hope he isn't as irrational and unreasonable as his sister."

Robin's expression soured, his brows lowered, then he let out a long sigh to calm himself down and smooth out his facial tension before pressing the reply button.

Then, forcing a pleasant smile, he began to speak:

("Lord Hedrik, I sincerely apologize for the delay—I've only just entered the Soul Soceity. I've had some pressing matters occupying my attention lately, and I hope you can understand.

As for the agreement between us, I am of course still fully committed to it.

However, has the time for your planet's upgrade truly arrived?

If so, I will send the item to you immediately, along with a trusted team of my followers who can deliver anything you need to your designated location and then return it safely to MY Empire afterward.

But if the time has not yet come, then I will not be handing it over just yet. That was never part of the original agreement.

Again, I ask for your patience and understanding.")

He then pressed "Send" without delay.

After that, he closed the conversation—and even shut down the entire message interface—without bothering to look at the remaining messages from the Cloud Dwellers, despite the glowing notifications.

His face returned to an annoyed expression once more; he simply wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone else right now.

The only reason he gave any weight to Hedrik at all was because the man knew about Nihari and the taboo surrounding it.

And without a doubt, he also knew the location of Jura and probably a few of Robin's other precious planets—because his sister certainly did.

Even though Hedrik had backed off after the Seer's divine intervention, Robin knew very well that humans tend to downplay things and forget history far too easily.

Those who suffer the horrors of war today swear to never return to it. But give it a few decades, and the thirst for glory, control, and conquest inevitably returns.

They forget the blood they shed, the pain they endured.

They forget the reasons that made them retreat in the first place.

Robin wouldn't be surprised if someone as proud, proud to the point of arrogance, and as headstrong as Hedrik eventually decided to attack Yura or one of his other planets personally—should he be provoked enough.

He had already shown a surprising degree of restraint at the auction by backing down.

Still, Robin wasn't willing to gamble on testing him. It simply wasn't worth it.

"Tsk~" Robin shook his head hard and took a few long, deep breaths to clear his mind of unnecessary distractions.

Then, with full focus and steely resolve, he turned his attention entirely to the requests in the Chamber of Truth.

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

A Few Months Later — Somewhere in Mid-Sector 100

*Swoosh*

A small figure, barely taller than a child, draped in a vibrant, oversized yellow robe, flicked his fishing rod with practiced ease, casting the line gracefully into the sparkling lake. The hook cut through the air before landing with a soft splash near the lake's calm center. With a satisfied nod, the figure lifted his dark-skinned face, closing his eyes slightly as he basked in the gentle golden rays of the mid-day sun, breathing deeply as if savoring the peace of the moment.

Around him, the lakeside buzzed softly with life. Dozens of families—men and women, young and old, from countless races—enjoyed the afternoon together. Some were focused on fishing like him, while others waded in the shallow waters, laughing, splashing, or teaching their children how to swim. The harmonious atmosphere suggested that this was a neutral planet, free of dominant rule by any particular race. Likely a commercial world, where trade and culture thrived side by side. Tranquility ruled here, a rare gem in a chaotic galaxy.

Step. Step.

The soft sound of steady footsteps approached from behind, cutting through the serene ambiance.

Emerging from the shaded forest path was a young man—tall, composed, and striking. His long black hair cascaded smoothly down his shoulders, and he wore armor blacker than the void between stars, matte and ominous like the silence before a storm. A long black cloak danced behind him, fluttering lightly in the breeze, giving him the appearance of a wraith that walked beneath the sun.

But all of that faded compared to his eyes.

His eyes... were an abyss. Pure obsidian orbs, dark beyond darkness. As if two ancient black holes had been chained into his skull. They weren't just eyes—they were warnings.

Anyone who looked directly into them either froze on the spot, captivated, spirit drained and thought forgotten, or they instinctively turned away, stumbling back as if their very soul screamed to escape.

"..." Without even glancing back, the dark-skinned man sighed audibly. "Little Theo... You truly are persistent, I'll grant you that much. Tenacious like a shadow, always finding me no matter where I go." His voice was rough but calm. "But persistence alone doesn't pay. It can't buy you what you seek. Leave. I told you before—there will be no further negotiations. The price is final. Not a single soul crystal less."

"I've already gathered the amount." Theo's deep voice came from just two steps behind. "I want it now."

"...?!" The yellow-robed man twisted around with visible surprise, his expression tightening.

"Are you saying... you've managed to raise over a billion soul pearls in just a few short months?" his eyes narrowed, studying Theo more carefully now. "The Shadow Swords have become known lately, sure, but their fame is still too fresh. Your organization hasn't reached that level of profitability yet—not by a long shot."

"I have my ways," Theo answered plainly, tone unshaken, offering no further explanation. "So—will you sell it, or shall I take my business elsewhere?"

It had been decades—long, grinding decades—since Theo had first been given the command: acquire World Cataclysms and Nexus Entities.

The initial part of the mission hadn't been overly complex. World Cataclysms slaves, while rare, weren't impossible to obtain—especially if one had enough power, cunning, or ruthlessness. With the right moves, a handful could be captured in a day.

One prime example? The infamous clash between the Imperial Guards and the Ancestral Blood Planetary Empire. After the Imperial Guards launched a coordinated assault, they managed to slay several Cataclysms-class beings, shipping their corpses off to the Demons in the young belt.

Meanwhile, others were captured alive—powerful restraint nails driven through their chests to suppress their abilities. Later, Theo himself used extremely advanced soul-binding spells, purchased at outrageous prices from the Soul Society, to break their will and force them into submission.

Now they served him. Silently. Obediently. Reluctantly perhaps—but without a single failure so far.