Lord of the Truth

"She says she's fighting to liberate the planet and specters, yet at the same time sacrificing all those specters… doesn't that contradict her cause? I would argue she needs to take them somewhere save in the planet and defend them or something" Robin muttered, his eyes fixed on the colossal battlefield that stretched before him like a nightmare come to life.

This was only the second time in his life he had witnessed so many World Cataclysms and Nexus States clashing in a single place. The first had been above the Galactic Seed Varilion—but back then, he had seen only flashes, fragments of chaos. Now he saw everything with piercing clarity.

Each blow was apocalyptic in scale. A single strike carried enough force to unravel space itself.

If one of those attacks had landed in Jura—or on any planet in the Young Belt—it would have shattered the heavens, broken the local laws of reality, and reduced the land beneath to quivering sludge before dissolving entirely.

Yet here, under the shield of the seventh-degree laws, the world endured. For now. Robin could feel the natural energy bleeding out of the planet, draining like a wounded beast. The rhythm of its pulse was weakening, noticeable even without effort. But aside from this dwindling reservoir, there was no sign of immediate death. A few months of stillness and quiet, and the planet would recover, reborn from the scars of war.

(Sacrificing the specters? Owner, those things are not truly alive to be sacrificed.) Nery's voice was firm, cutting through his doubt. (The fact that they exist at all is already a tragedy. Death is a release for them.) She paused, then added in a lower, sharper tone. (From what we've just heard, perhaps the Shepherdess doesn't truly fight for them but for the planet itself. She seizes worlds like this, isolating them so that no outsiders may enter, cutting off the specters from their food sources. Starvation forces them to wither away and vanish. Their cries fade, their existence ends, and in death they finally find peace. Then, free from corruption, the planet begins to purge its negative energy and earns the right to live anew.)

"…That sounds… noble." Robin whispered, his eyes reflecting the storm of violence. His claws dug lightly into the ground. "But if her actions are so noble, why is she hunted so viciously? Why would they hang a bounty of one million pearls on her head for even the faintest trace of information about her?"

(Because specter farms are the most profitable business of all.) Neri's reply was as sharp as a blade. (With a ghost farm, you can abduct entire populations, slaughter them, and transform them from mere mortals of no value into a commodity—Soul Emeralds. Emeralds that form the backbone of every empire, and every faction that dares to walk the soul path.)

She did not stop. (Do you remember the Clan of Seven Souls? The ones who tested your soul trait?)

"Of course. What of them?" Robin raised a brow, memories of the bald youth rising in his mind like smoke from old embers.

(They own a specter farm.)

"What?!" Robin's body stiffened, shock flashing across his face. "How could you possibly know that? Information like this should be the most tightly guarded of secrets!"

(It's simple. Any force that specializes in the soul will either run a specter farm or buy into one with allies. It's unavoidable. Without that constant supply, how else would they feed their members? If they relied solely on slow, orthodox soul techniques, they would have been destroyed ages ago. The entire soul path would have vanished from the universe before it even began.)

Robin fell silent for a long moment, his eyes dim with thought. "…I understand. It has been centuries since I handed over my soul research to the Empire of True Beginning. There has been some awakening of Soul Masters there… but nothing close to what I once hoped. If I had access to a farm of Soul Emeralds back then, everything would have been different." He exhaled through his teeth, then frowned deeply. "But if what you're saying is true, then the Soul Society…"

(They may have superior techniques. And even if not—even if their strength comes from secret specter farms—no one dares question it. It is not in anyone's interest to reveal the foundation of their power.) Nery's voice darkened. (Why even speak their name?)

"..." Robin's breath grew heavy. That dream, that nightmare—the one he had seen through Arkalon's eye and felt it through his body… could it have been truth?

"Shaaaaaaaaaaaaakhhh~"

The battlefield roared again as one of the Shepherdess's generals hurled himself at the Nexus State man in the red cloak, driving him backward.

Robin's eyes gleamed, focusing sharply on that specter. Its strength was clear—it was of the Silver Soul rank, weaker than Arkalon by a margin, perhaps nine hundred thousand units at most. It was natural that such a creature could not truly harm a Nexus State. Yet Robin's perception caught something strange inside it…

Something pulsing. Something that resembled a heart—violet and unnatural—throbbing with a sinister rhythm. Every beat pumped through the specter, fueling it with frenzy and wild strength. Each pulse made its body quiver, its claws slash faster, its howl grow louder.

That organ was no mere heart—it was a furnace, a core of madness, stoking the specter to fight beyond its natural limits, to burn itself away for the sake of destruction.

"It's a Royal-level enchantment…" Robin muttered, his tone carrying both awe and disbelief as his gaze locked onto the Shepherdess once more.

There she stood like a figure outside of time, her blackened lips curved in a faint smile. Her head swayed gently from side to side, eyes closed as though she were lost in some silent melody, humming the most beautiful of songs only she could hear.

To anyone watching, she might have seemed detached, as if the chaos and carnage raging around her did not exist. But Robin knew better. Behind that serene mask, she was the nexus of the battlefield itself, the silent conductor who sustained and directed the tide of war.

He could feel it—every specter general under her banner was tied to her through threads of power, their bodies thrumming with strength not their own. Each specter was wrapped in an enchantment vast enough to let them stand toe-to-toe with Nexus States.

That was the kind of spell that should cripple even the most formidable of Royal Soul Masters. To weave one was already legendary. To weave several was beyond comprehension. And yet here she was, maintaining dozens simultaneously, her expression calm, her presence unbroken, as if such a feat were no more taxing than drawing breath.

"What a girl…" Robin's eyes shone like blades in the dark. "The ability to craft such enchantments alone would already place her among the greatest and wealthiest of all Royal Spirit Masters across the cosmos. Add to that her dominion over specters, her ability to bend them to her will… she is virtually untouchable. She could have raised an empire upon her shoulders and crowned herself Empress. And yet… she chose this lonely path instead. What past, what wound, forced her to walk this road alone?"

But Nery's voice intruded into his thoughts, sharp and unwavering. (Don't let her calm deceive you. Use the Eye of Truth. Look closer. There's no way she's unscathed.)

Robin hesitated, his brow furrowing. "Hm?" Still, he obeyed. His eyes burned brighter, the lines of reality sharpening, every secret thread revealing itself. What he saw made his breath hitch. "This…?"

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!

The world split with a deafening roar as a violent explosion detonated right where the Shepherdess stood. The shockwave ripped across the battlefield, tearing stone, sand, and specters alike into the sky.

"Shaaaaaaakhhh?!" The vast host of specters faltered, their charge halted as thousands of them wheeled around in panic. Their gazes locked on the storm of dust and fire, dread surging through their incorporeal forms. Even the mighty World Cataclysms and Nexus States broke their concentration, their spiritual sense lashing into the thick smoke, probing desperately for their leader's fate.

"…" But Robin, who had already been watching her with the unblinking clarity of the Eye of Truth, did not move. His body was still, only his brows drawing tight as he turned slowly, deliberately, to the west.

Shhhhhhhk!

From the western skies, the heavens cracked as several starships descended, their armored hulls blazing like meteors. Engines screamed, leaving trails of fire in their wake as the ships disgorged their armies.

A wave of the living spilled forth—rank upon rank of soldiers armed and armored, filling the air with killing intent.

Above them floated a dozen Nexus States and even more World Cataclysms, their eyes cold, sharp, and hungry, staring down at the smoking crater as predators sight their prey.

From among them, the strongest advanced into the center of the sky. His arms folded across his chest, his aura radiating with suffocating weight, pressing the battlefield beneath it. His words cracked like thunder. "You sealed your fate with your own hands. Today, Shepherdess, we settle the debt of Planet Volda."

Whooooooosh!

Then, like the curtain pulled from a stage, the storm of dust vanished in an instant. With a mere flick of her parasol, the ash and smoke dispersed as though swept away by invisible winds. And there she stood—untouched, radiant within a shimmering violet dome that pulsed with alien majesty.

Her laughter rang out, high and mocking, carrying across the battlefield. "Heheh~ So… today will not be dull after all."