Lord of the Truth

"...."

After Robin unleashed his fervent words about forging a terrifying army steeped in the Permanence of Frost up to the fifth grade, and further empowered by the forbidden knowledge of the Encyclopedia of Blood, he allowed a knowing smile to linger on his lips and then fell silent, waiting. His golden eyes never left Althera, searching for the slightest tremor in her expression, a shift of breath, anything that would reveal her decision. Even with all the weight of his offer, he could not be certain she would ever agree.

The secret archive was not a mere library; it was the sanctum of the academy's greatest rulers. Access was restricted to the head alone, perhaps extended grudgingly to the most formidable deputies or, on exceedingly rare occasions, to a distinguished visitor of immense stature—like Robin himself. And when they said only, they meant it in its most absolute form. Each text within those halls became the possession of the reader alone. Sharing its contents was sacrilege.

The purpose of the archive was singular: to elevate the academy's leader and their closest aides, never to scatter its power into the greedy hands of ambitious teachers or unrelated students.

Otherwise… it would cease to be a secret archive and descend into mere common shelves of knowledge.

That was why the Encyclopedia of Blood and the merged Permanence of Frost to the fifth grade remained sealed within. Not to be copied, not to be bartered, but to broaden the vision of whoever dared read them. Robin had chosen those two volumes precisely because he knew there was no one alive strong enough to enter the archive and truly make use of them.

It was also why he had never dared gamble by sharing their secrets with his empire, nor with any outsider, without permission. To do so would be to shatter one of the academy's laws, etched into eternity like inscriptions upon unyielding stone. And if that law were broken, Althera—his current ally—would instantly become a potential enemy. And making an enemy out of a sovereign was no laughing matter. It was the kind of mistake one might not survive.

Still, if Althera herself placed those books in his hand, granting them by her will… then there would be no breach, no crime.

The Permanence of Frost merged law to the fifth grade? Robin could craft the sixth in time, and keep it sealed within his heart. He could even invent another fused law designed specifically to unravel and counter the Permanence of Frost itself. In the realm of laws, Robin's confidence was boundless—he would never lose.

The Encyclopedia of Blood? Oh, it was invaluable, no doubt. But Robin possessed something others did not: Behemoths in his own backyard, living wells of bloody essence and primal knowledge. He could glean insights from them at any moment.

Thus, he risked nothing. What he sought was not the contents themselves, but the recognition. A simple nod. A gesture from Althera, head of the academy, authorizing him to take those two tomes.

"I refuse."

The words fell from Althera's lips like a blade of judgment, sharp and unyielding.

"What?" Robin's smile evaporated, his voice breaking with disbelief. "Why?!"

"I have no desire to craft private armies. I am content ruling the academy." Althera's reply was calm, her tone regal. "Had I wanted such things, I would have built them long ago."

Robin's brows drew together. "Then what is it you seek? Personal power? I can help you with that."

"You?" Althera leaned back ever so slightly, one elegant brow arching. "You would help me… with Personal power? Forgive me if I find that laughable."

Robin fell silent, swallowing the sting of her dismissal. He could not blame her.

She wielded the seventh stage of the Major Fundamental Law of Repetition. That alone crowned her a pinnacle among the Monarchs of the mid-belt. No one could say what other aces she had hoarded in her long, tireless life. And then here stood Robin, not yet even at the threshold of World Cataclysm, claiming he could make her stronger. It sounded like a child promising to move a mountain.

"Lady Althera, the one who speaks to you is no ordinary man. Even should I falter in fulfilling my promise now, I remain who I am." Robin's tone hardened, carrying a weight that pressed on the air itself. "Accept my words, and wait for the favor that will come. I never speak without intent to act."

"..." Althera's other brow rose, mirroring the first. "So… have you fallen back to level 11 again?"

Robin gave a faint laugh, almost sheepish. "Again, you say? It seems Your Majesty has been watching my progress very closely. Yes, I descended once more—but this time of my own will. I wanted… to test something."

Tap Tap

For a few long seconds, Althera studied his face, as if weighing the truth in his eyes. Then she spoke. "Even if I were to humor you, even if I believed that one day you might indeed grant me greater power… I cannot lay a finger upon the Atlas of Souls volumes. They are not mine to alter. I hold no such right. Hmmm… I do not know."

Fwoosh

From Robin's palm, a small metallic spirit materialized and glided across the desk toward her, glowing faintly. "Perhaps this will help you decide."

Althera lifted the slate without much interest and ran her soul sense across it. At once, her eyes flickered, and her expression changed—just a fraction, but enough. "The Martial Art; Breath of the ages?" She looked up at Robin, incredulity sharpening her gaze. "You think this is what will make me stronger?"

"Of course not," Robin waved with a playful smile. "Think of it as a bribe, just something to make you reflect, hehe." He leaned back slightly, letting his words sink in before continuing, "Even if the effect of The Martial Art; Breath of the Ages, may appear faint when applied to a monarch, it still holds the ability to seal wounds and mend them even if only for a single fleeting minute."

He pointed lazily toward her, his tone shifting into something sharper. "And you, more than anyone, know the value of even a single minute. For a monarch who has already mastered the seventh degree of the Law of Repetition, one minute is an eternity of battle, a hundred chances to turn the tide. Even ten seconds alone might tip the scales between victory and defeat. This art may one day be the thread that keeps your life from unraveling."

"..." Althera regarded him in silence for a long moment before finally slipping the tablet into her spatial ring. Her lips curved faintly. "A bribe accepted." She paused, her eyes narrowing slightly. "But still, I cannot allow you to replicate and spread the Atlas of Souls volumes word for word. That authority lies beyond me. It surpasses the boundaries of my position."

Robin frowned, his brows pressing together in thought. Then suddenly his eyes lit up, his voice taking on a spark of slyness. "Word for word, you say? Then… what if I were to rewrite the two volumes entirely—alter the number of pages, restructure the knowledge, condense some parts, expand others? The essence would be preserved, but the vessel would be… different."

Althera's lips curled into a smile, her eyes glinting with intrigue. She gave a slight nod. "I look forward to seeing this supposed method of yours, Robin—the one that will make me stronger."

Robin straightened, his broad smile returning as he gave her a respectful bow, one hand to his chest. "You will not regret your decision, Lady Althera."

"Will you leave the academy now?" she asked, tilting her head slightly. "Or more precisely… will you return?"

"I will return without question," Robin replied warmly. "I left one of my followers in my academy residence. At the very least, I'll come back to collect her." He chuckled at the thought.

"You cannot leave your followers inside the academy's residential sector," Althera said firmly, shaking her head. "If you wish, we can move her to the dormitories of guards and servants." Her tone left no room for argument.

Robin's smile widened with irony. "Surely, placing a royal soul master among guards and servants would not be wise. Don't you think so?"

Althera's brows furrowed instantly, the weight of his words dawning on her. "Your follower… is a royal soul master?!" she exclaimed. A brief silence followed before she exhaled through her nose. "...Very well. I can register her as a teacher within the academy grounds. That way, she can remain here legally, and even support herself in your absence."

"Teacher Morgana? Haha, now that has a certain charm to it." Robin laughed, though he couldn't quite imagine that quiet, brooding girl facing a hall of noisy students. "Speak to her—or send someone in your stead. If she refuses to take on the role of instructor, then simply enroll her as a student under Professor Robin. I'll cover the fees myself."

His voice softened, and his eyes lifted upward, gleaming faintly as a thin veil of moisture shimmered over them. A wistful smile curved his lips, as though he were peering into the distance of memory itself.

"Heh… Teacher or student, it matters little. Everyone has something to teach, and everyone has something to learn. Even a teacher may one day learn from their student, just as a student may one day betray their teacher. These are only titles—decorated cages, forged to bind the teacher into surrendering knowledge and to chain the student into submission and respect. But such cages rarely endure; most of the time, they shatter in tragedy. Only interests remain eternal, while titles fade like dust."

He lowered his gaze and placed a hand on his chest in solemn respect. "It seems I have already consumed too much of Your Majesty's precious time. If you have no further orders, then I must take my leave."

For the briefest of moments, a rare and delicate smile touched Althera's regal features. "Keep your promise," she said, and with a flick of her fingers—

Whoooosh!

The chamber dissolved into silence once more.

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

Thus ended the Master Volume.

From the next chapter begins the Stage Formation Volume.