Lord of the Truth

Planet Jura – The Imperial Capital

"Uncle, uncle, hey uncle!!" A small boy came sprinting across the wide avenue, his tiny legs moving frantically as he crashed into the path of a patrolling Light Sword. He clutched desperately at the knight's long cloak and tugged it over and over, his eyes brimming with tears. "He took my ball!"

"Liar! It's mine!" the other child, a chubby boy with flushed cheeks and mud smeared across his tunic, barked back, hugging a round ball caked in dirt tight against his belly. His voice rose in shrill protest as he jabbed a finger at the first boy. "I bought it from you just a moment ago! What—do you want to keep the money and the ball?! Look, uncle, the coins are still in his hand!"

The Light Sword glanced down. The first boy, caught off guard, hesitated. His small fist opened for a fleeting instant, revealing three golden coins gleaming brilliantly under the sunlight. The stamped image on them showed a strikingly handsome young man seated upon a throne, a heavy crown radiating above his brow.

But the moment passed. The boy clenched his fist tight, his knuckles white, and shoved it behind his back as if to erase what the soldier had just seen. "You're lying! It's my allowance, my father gave it to me!"

"Hmmm…" The Light Sword drew out the sound, lips curling faintly into a bemused smile. He swung one leg over his mighty Tera beast and dismounted with unhurried grace, his heavy boots thudding against the cobblestones. "It seems we have a problem here, boys. Now, which of you is telling the truth? You both know what happens to liars, don't you?"

"Me!!"

Both children screamed at the same time, pointing fingers at one another.

The Light Sword folded his arms, his smile sharpening. "Very well then… I shall have to punish the liar right now."

He turned his head toward the nearest fire hydrant—a squat, metal column gleaming faintly red beside the street. And then, to the bewilderment of everyone nearby, he spoke to it. "Sir Hydrant, you must have seen everything. Tell me—which one of these boys is lying?"

And impossibly—

Pssshhh!

The hydrant turned its nozzle toward the first boy, the one who had tugged at the soldier's cloak, and spat a jet of water that splashed across him in a soaking torrent.

"Ahhh!!" The boy squealed, trying desperately to shield himself with his arms, but it was no use. His clothes clung to his skin, dripping wet, and his nose tickled until he let out a loud, miserable sneeze. "Haaachooo!!"

"Yes, yes! Thank you, Sir Hydrant!!" the chubby boy crowed triumphantly. He clutched his filthy ball with both arms and bolted away, his laughter echoing down the street.

The Light Sword, still smiling, bent down and ruffled the wet boy's hair, his voice warm though firm. "And what did we learn today?"

"Bohoo… I won't lie again!" the boy sobbed loudly, his voice cracking with regret. "Please, uncle, don't tell my father!"

"Haha, what matters is—" The soldier's words broke off mid-sentence. His brow furrowed deeply, his entire face paling as his smile collapsed. Shock rippled across his features. "By the heavens…"

"W-what? W-w-what is it, uncle? It's just a ball!!" The child stumbled back a few steps, frightened by the sudden change in the soldier's demeanor.

But the Light Sword no longer heard him. His eyes snapped eastward, his pupils narrowing, and in the same heartbeat—

Whoooosh!

His body became a lance of radiant light, launching skyward with thunderous speed. He abandoned his mighty Tera beast where it stood, the creature bellowing in confusion before thundering after him on clawed feet, struggling to keep pace.

Wshhh!

"Impossible… impossible… IMPOSSIBLE! Is this some kind of cruel jest?!" the Light Sword whispered to himself, his voice trembling as he cut through the capital like a falling star. His movements were flawless—arcing between towering spires of marble and steel, weaving past colossal trees whose canopies shaded entire districts, gliding around enormous statues of His Majesty that stood at every plaza and crossroads. His words grew ragged, half-choked by disbelief. "That presence… could it truly be…?!"

Whooosh Whooosh

He was not alone.

From every corner of the sky, streaks of light converged—other Light Swords, dozens of them, their faces mirroring his own shock, their auras trembling with the same impossible realization. It was then, and only then, that he knew: the message he had received was no prank.

And below, the city itself had erupted. The streets swarmed with people, citizens dropping whatever they had been doing, rushing eastward in a flood of bodies and voices. The air shook with shouting, desperate and frantic, all converging toward the same place—the great eastern gate.

Then—

Wooooosh!!

He cleared the last colossal structure of the imperial capital, bursting above the gleaming city wall. And his jaw fell open.

Beyond the gates, where dozens of space portals shimmered with unstable brilliance, a chaotic scene unfolded. Hundreds of people had already gathered, their voices breaking into screams, sobs, and cries of disbelief. Some collapsed where they stood, overwhelmed. And still the gates continued to disgorge more—spitting out wave after wave of new arrivals in a relentless flood. The wide road between the portals and the eastern gate was already carpeted with humanity, bodies pressed shoulder to shoulder, tens of thousands at least, spilling forward like a living ocean.

And for what?

For whom?

All of this—every scream, every tear, every desperate surge forward—was for one person.

"What are you doing?! Get into position, protect His Majesty from the mob!!" another Light Sword barked as he streaked past, diving directly toward the portals with blades gleaming. Whooosh!

"Y-yes, sir!!" the dazed soldier stammered. He swallowed hard, forcing his throat to unclench, and sped forward in a straight line. At the edge of the gate, he found a ring already formed—Light Swords standing shoulder to shoulder, their blades of light extended, forming a barrier that held the tidal wave of citizens at bay.

He dove into the formation, finding a gap between two comrades, spreading his arms wide and letting his radiant swords flare, helping to push back the frenzied masses.

Yet even as he held the line, heart hammering in his chest, he could not help himself.

Slowly, carefully, he turned his head—stealing a glance over his shoulder at the figure stepping through the space portal…

A short, well-trimmed beard framed his jaw, golden locks falling in loose strands to his shoulders, shimmering faintly beneath the sunlight. His robes were a masterwork—white lined with gold, embroidered with such precision that each thread seemed alive, gleaming with divine artistry. And then there was his smile. That confident, radiant smile, the kind that could sway the hearts of nations, topple civilizations, and inspire whole generations to kneel in reverence.

He raised his hand to the masses, waving gently, humbly even, but the onlookers felt as though each movement of that hand could unmake worlds and fashion new ones in their place. This was no ordinary man. This was no distant sovereign hidden behind walls of marble and armies of guards. This was the one whose statues stood in every plaza, whose face adorned every banner, whose name filled every prayer since the day they were born. This was the one whose epics were told around hearths, whose victories shaped the cosmos itself.

This was His Majesty, Robin Burton.

The sovereign who had disappeared into legend.

The emperor who had now returned—after three hundred long years!!

Rumble Rumble

The ground itself seemed to tremble under the cries of the people.

"....."

Before the roaring multitudes, before the imperial capital that still emptied its avenues as wave after wave poured toward the eastern gate, Robin stood steady. His golden hair caught the light as he smiled and waved slowly. To the people, it was the very image of serenity and benevolence. But to those who truly knew him, there was something else—an almost imperceptible crease at the corner of his brow, a flicker of bewilderment hidden behind his golden eyes.

Indeed, Robin leaned slightly toward Malik, his lips barely moving as he spoke in a tone only his companion could hear. "Hey… what's going on here? Did one of you actually warn them that we were coming back?"

"No, Your Majesty," Malik replied at once, bowing deeply. His tone was measured, his words lined with respect. And yet, now that they stood in public view, his reverence burned even brighter—each syllable delivered as though he stood before the gods themselves. "It is because we landed first on Planet S-257 before arriving here."

Robin blinked. He remembered the order he had given. He had specifically instructed his guards to supply the gatekeepers of the academy with the farthest set of coordinates they possessed. His reasoning was simple: if their trail was ever traced, it was far safer for the pursuers to end up stranded on some desolate, forgotten world than to discover Jura, the beating heart of the empire, on the first try.

"And yet," Robin murmured, frowning, "we only stayed by the portal on S-257 for five minutes at most. As soon as the guards were done, we set the coordinates for Jura. That alone was enough to send word across the empire of my return?!"

Malik straightened, and for the first time a faint smile flickered at the corner of his lips. "Have you forgotten, my lord? We now possess the interstellar communication network." He raised his hand slowly, the faint shimmer of the Voice Ring catching the light. "With this, news travels across the stars instantly. What happens on one planet is known across a dozen in the time it takes to breathe."

"...?" Robin's brows furrowed. He stilled, processing the thought, and then his eyes widened with dawning realization. "Zara… and the Sky Opening City. They managed to solve the riddles I left behind, didn't they? They actually pieced them together and activated interplanetary voice transmission?!"

Whoooosh!

"Hehe… who just said my name?"

The air rippled, carrying a familiar, playful voice.