Lord of the Truth

"This..?!" Robin's eyes flared wide, golden irises gleaming like molten suns as disbelief carved itself across his face.

His first assumption—that the rings would be filled with weapons, pearls, talismans, and other survival trinkets fit for those venturing into the perilous Valley of Specters—had been accurate… but only half so. What he saw now far surpassed his imagination.

"Forgive me…" the planet spirit's voice carried an embarrassed lilt, almost sheepish. "It took me an unthinkably long time to learn how to place objects inside these spatial rings, but I never mastered the art of removing the ones already inside. You can disregard all the incidental items. They're just clutter."

Disregard them?! Robin roared inwardly, his thoughts like thunder. There are four hundred thousand pearls and even a planetary-grade weapon among them!!

And yet, despite his instincts screaming otherwise, he did push them aside. Against his will, his focus shifted beyond them. A planetary-grade weapon alone was a treasure that could tip the balance of war between entire empires. Entire dynasties would bleed rivers of gold and blood to possess it. Yet compared to what truly filled these rings, it seemed like a trifle, a mere pebble before a mountain.

The true contents—what the Planet Spirit had chosen to stuff these rings with—were dazzling, irresistible, world-shaking.

"My heavens…" Robin whispered, his voice shaking with awe. "Just how many soul emeralds are in here? A million? Two million?!"

Each emerald was born from the death of a specter, crystallizing the soul units they once carried. Some emeralds contained a mere three units, while others brimmed with thousands. And here, gathered in heaps like rivers of light, was a fortune beyond measure, a quantity of soul emeralds that could overturn the fate of ancient empires.

Woosh! Without hesitation, Robin seized another ring, his soul sense plunging into its depths.

Again—like the first—it overflowed with treasures: mid- to high-tier epic weapons, tens of thousands of pearls, scattered trinkets… and, most importantly, hundreds of thousands more emeralds.

Then he reached for the next.

And the next.

And the next!

With each ring, Robin's astonishment deepened. Their owners had been unimaginably wealthy. After rifling through a mere twenty rings, he had already saw many planetary-level weapons, mountains of gear, and riches vast enough to nourish and stabilize a Powerful planetary empire. This was no surprise—any who could afford the staggering entry fee into the Valley of Specters had to be among the wealthiest of the wealthy. Only empires, academies, or celestial clans sent their champions here.

And yet, even putting aside the weapons, pearls, and trinkets, one truth eclipsed all others: the emeralds. So many emeralds that his senses reeled. Robin's tally after twenty rings already surpassed twenty million soul emeralds! And still the pile of rings before him remained untouched, dozens more waiting.

And each one of those soul emeralds has many units inside, can be several, can be hundreds or thousands!!

By the official, public valuation—where one soul unit equaled one energy pearl—the emeralds alone translated into tens of millions, perhaps even hundreds of millions, of pearls. That was the fortune of a freshly crowned centennial planetary empire, sitting calmly in his hands.

But Robin knew better than to trust the market's simple arithmetic. The true worth of soul emeralds, like elemental energy pearls, fluctuated wildly with time, place, and need. In the right sector, during the right crisis, one soul unit could sell for a thousand pearls or more. If he valued his newfound hoard by that measure, then…

He broke off, shaking his head violently, cutting the thought short. Numbers could no longer capture what sat before him. And besides, he had no intention of selling them.

The Planet Spirit's voice broke the silence, carrying the faintest tinge of amusement. "I know the loss of twenty energy levels must have weighed heavily on you… but tell me, do you find your compensation satisfactory?" She even allowed herself a rare smile, her stony features softening.

"The loss of twenty levels?" Robin laughed, his voice firm and alive with suppressed joy. "I'd trade a few times over if this were the compensation!!" He clenched his fists tightly, struggling to keep the raw delight, the hunger, the fire from exploding across his face.

For Robin knew this was more than mere wealth. Yes, he craved soul units to accelerate his own cultivation, to climb faster, higher, stronger.

But what lay before him was a treasure trove vast enough to do more than strengthen just one man. It was enough to raise armies, to shape destinies, to feed an empire's rise.

And Robin already knew—clear as the stars above—exactly how he would wield it.

The Soul Masters of the Empire of True Beginning were many indeed—an ocean of scholars and practitioners scattered across the empire's countless cities. Tens of thousands had chosen that path, encouraged by the empire's culture and its policies: soul cultivation meant access to techniques, to engraved runes, to status, to a life of comfort and luxury. The empire had fostered that road deliberately, swelling the numbers of Soul Masters like crops nurtured in fertile soil.

And yet, for all their numbers, they were frail. They were researchers and artisans, not warriors. They had neither the sharp edge of battle nor the endurance to withstand carnage. None were suited to direct conflict. Even though Robin had once passed Theo a primitive wandering technique for soul-hunting, he had no real grasp of how it had been spread or applied among the masses. If they had used it to its fullest, he would surely have heard of results by now, of reports of breakthroughs.

But Robin's thoughts turned in a different direction. If, instead of letting them all muddle about, he carefully chose the few—those of the highest talent, the rarest soul traits, those gifted with natural affinity—and placed these emeralds in their hands…

A low chuckle slipped out of him. "Heh-heh… heh-heh…" His eyes gleamed with a strange, distant light, as though he were already seeing an empire rebuilt in his mind.

The Planet Soul stiffened slightly, unsettled by that look. "Is something wrong?" she asked, her voice cautious.

"Hm? No, no…" Robin quickly swept all the spatial rings together, tucking them into his own personal ring with haste, his expression regaining focus. His voice sharpened, filled with eager hunger. "Do you have more emeralds?!"

"Plenty," the Planet Spirit said, her tone carrying both resignation and pride. "As you've seen, atop that tower, tens of thousands are slaughtered every single day. All of them become specters. Some linger, wandering for centuries until hunger withers them into emeralds. Others are cut down by visiting hunters who came to gather emeralds but forget to collect their reward, or they just die after collecting man emeralds. At times, even the Syndicate itself slays the excess specters, to prevent the planet from choking on them and to make room for further slaughter, and they just leave the emeralds their, they don't care for them."

She placed a stone hand over her chest, her voice deepening. "In every case, I take them. I draw the emeralds down into the earth, pull them into hidden chambers, and store them where no one can reach. Over the ages, I have amassed a mountain, a tide, a treasure beyond your ability to count. What I have given you now? It is not even a scratch on the surface of what I hold."

Her stony eyes shimmered faintly as a grim smile touched her lips. "That cursed tower destroyed me, but it also gave me the wealth to create something new. Enough emeralds to raise not merely an empire built on soul force… but a Behemoth forged entirely from it. Tell me, Candidate—have I caught your interest now?"

Robin's head dipped quickly, nodding several times, the edges of his mouth curling into a grin he could not quite suppress. "Very much so. In fact, if I ever decide to set myself against that Syndicate… you can be sure I'll start with you."

"I'll be waiting, Candidate." The Planet Soul bowed her head slightly. Then, turning her gaze toward Morgana, she added softly, "Take care of her. She is a good girl."

"If she wishes it," Robin replied, shrugging, before leaning back against the cave wall once again. A smile tugged at his lips as he settled into thought.

"...Heh~" The Planet Spirit released a faint, weary laugh. She knew she had nothing more to offer, no further temptations to dangle, no power to change the girl's fate. Slowly, quietly, she receded. She sank back into her silence, back into the stillness of her solitude, back to her endless pastime: gathering emeralds, always gathering, wherever they could be found.

Robin did not look after her. He closed his eyes instead, sinking deep into thought, the weight of countless emeralds pressing against his imagination. Already he was sketching plans, weaving strategies, deciding step by step how he would unleash this impossible fortune.