Lord of the Truth

"At least… my dream is no longer just a dream."

Robin's words were little more than a murmur, yet they carried the weight of triumph. His face softened into something rare for him—unrestrained pride, the quiet joy of a man who had risked everything and somehow endured.

For before his eyes, his soul domain writhed with violent upheaval. Massive whirlwinds coiled like serpents of energy, tearing through the void, striking at the walls and ceiling with savage intent.

Each cyclone battered and pressed, forcing the boundaries of the domain to stretch outward, swelling like a balloon about to burst—only for the elastic nature of the domain to recoil, squeezing the storms back down, forcing them to collapse into the floor.

His domain bent, but it did not break.

This peculiar elasticity, a trait he had discovered long ago, was the very thread holding him together now. Without it, the domain would already have shattered under the strain. And yet, Robin did not see the raging tempests as a looming disaster. Quite the opposite—he welcomed them.

For these storms, these cyclones, were not foreign invaders. They were his spoils of war. They were excess soul force, surging in quantities far beyond the natural limits of his domain. Power so dense it should never have existed here, now filling his inner world to the brim.

He thought back to the purification—how the flames had torn through corruption like a storm of judgment. The specters had been driven into chaos, scattering in blind terror. Many had been burned clean, their negative essence stripped away, transmuted into radiant soul force and into the initial souls that now hovered freely. Others, desperate and enraged, had fused together, coalescing into that monstrous dark cloud which had tried—and failed—to resist the azure inferno outside.

That hour of fire had been a massacre. Nearly half the specters had been annihilated, reduced to nothingness. The other half had burst outward in a frantic attempt to escape, only to be struck down beyond. Most of those who had managed to flee were the intact specters—those untouched, the ones that had still been caged within prisons before the purge began.

Half remained, and even so… it was enough.

More than enough.

For only Ghost King Arkalon had possessed within him a million units of essence soul force, in addition to his initial soul. A treasure vast enough to reshape the path of any cultivator bold enough to claim it.

Robin's eyes shifted sideways, and there—hovering in the endless white expanse—was proof of his victory. Thousands of glowing orbs floated in the air, each a radiant white sphere of varying size. They pulsed with soft light, pure and untainted, the freed initial souls that had once been drowned in corruption.

A small smile tugged at Robin's lips as his gaze settled on the largest among them—a massive sphere of blinding brilliance. The initial soul of Ghost King Arkalon himself. Once a tyrant who commanded legions of specters. Now, his essence was Robin's to claim.

"…So? Will you finally begin expanding your soul domain?"

Neri's voice cut the silence. Her arms were crossed, her eyes following his gaze toward the orbs. "Your domain still only holds eight hundred and ten thousand. If you attempt to compress your first star now, the strain could rip it apart. And I doubt your 'elastic trick' will save you if it tears."

"Maybe…" Robin's spiritual form raised a hand, scratching at his temple, "…maybe I should repair it first."

He looked around. The corruption was gone—completely gone. Not a single stain remained. But the scars of battle could not be denied. Cracks webbed through the walls, fissures cut through the ground, rubble and debris floated through the void like reminders of the storm. It was a sight to grieve over, and yet…

Compared to what his soul domain had been mere hours before, this was paradise. Repairs would take time, yes, but time was a price he could afford.

"…Walk with me."

Neri moved ahead, her steps deliberate, her tone carrying rare gravity. Her sharp gaze fixed on something far away. "Tell me—did you notice anything strange about that girl? The one they call the specter's shepherdess…"

Robin blinked, then chuckled under his breath, trailing after her. "What's with this sudden change of subject? No… she seemed like an ordinary girl to me. Human, maybe. Maybe not. I couldn't be certain."

Neri's frown deepened. "Do you truly believe an ordinary girl could command specters as she did?"

"Maybe she inherited some powerful technique. Or stumbled upon a forbidden art. Who knows?" Robin shrugged, a smirk tugging at the edge of his mouth. "Either way—what business is it of ours?"

"There is no such thing as a technique to control specters!" Neri's voice was sharp, almost scolding, her head shaking with absolute conviction. "The best anyone can ever hope for is to flee from them, to keep their distance. At most, if one is lucky or powerful, they might cut a few of them down. But to control them? To bend them to your will, to turn them into your own herd, your own army? That is beyond absurd. It is no different than someone claiming they could tame and direct the Red Plague itself!"

Robin let out a soft, humorless laugh, pressing a finger against his chest. "Well then, you've just admitted it isn't impossible after all."

Neri's brow arched, her cold eyes narrowing. "And what, you think you accomplished this with some hidden technique? I don't recall you ever possessing such a thing."

"No," Robin replied simply, his voice steady. "They listened to me, followed me, because of what I gave them—methods, techniques that improved their existence. Because I freed them from the chains of the giants. That was all. No spell, no secret art, just… change." His gaze flickered, something dawning on him. "…Unless you're suggesting that girl has something similar. That she struck a bargain with the specters, or that they benefit from her in some way?"

"Most likely." Neri's shoulders lifted in a small shrug, but her words were weighty. "She stands in nearly the same place as you. Someone who can harness the plague—or who can command specters—possesses the power to topple entire sectors alone. Such a one could easily become an unacknowledged Behemoth. You and she share a dangerous truth: you are natural enemies to every empire, every academy, every power with a fixed home and foundation. Anyone who uncovers your nature, or hers, will not think of treaties. They will think of extermination first… and speak of understanding only when blood has already spilled."

Robin's brows furrowed, the tension deepening the lines in his face.

Neri's voice lowered, her tone grim. "…What shields you now is obscurity. You are not yet known widely enough to be feared. What shields her is her solitude and her movement. A figure who travels without ties, who never stays long enough to be caged—such a person is difficult to find, harder still to corner. But these shields will not last forever. For you or for her. It is only a matter of time…"

"…I don't see what you're driving at." Robin's frown turned darker, his frustration rising.

"I want you to understand two things." Neri raised one slender finger. "First—if you ever sense her near you, within even a hundred miles, avoid her. Do not test her strength. She is dangerous, and you yourself have seen what specters can do." She lifted a second finger. "Second—if your secret regarding the Red Plague is ever uncovered, then this—"

she gestured around them, at his wounded soul domain, at the cost he had already paid "—this will be your destiny. You will leave everything behind. You will watch your empire burn, your world collapse, and you will wander alone in the ashes. That is, if your duties do not drag you into hell before that moment comes."

"All I'm hearing," Robin said with a faint, weary smile tugging at his lips, "is that you want me to abandon the demons."

That girl… was his life not burdened enough already? Was he truly supposed to carry yet another weight of this magnitude now?

"You said it, not I." Neri's laughter was quiet but sharp, echoing like steel on stone. Then she gestured to the ground beneath her feet. "We've arrived."

"Hm?"

Robin stepped forward to stand beside her. His stride halted almost immediately, his entire body stiffening. His brows pulled together as though they might crush themselves into his skull.

They were standing before one of the largest fractures in his soul domain, one of the deep, gaping wounds that demanded mending. It yawned open like a canyon, jagged edges biting outward, a scar in the very foundation of his being.

But that was not what made Robin's chest tighten.

That was not why Neri had led him here.

From within the fissure, fire still burned.

Silent. Relentless. Blue as the heart of lightning.

The flames of purgatory, alive within his very soul domain.