Lord of the Truth

"...How many planets do we hold now?"

A wide, radiant smile spread across Robin's face, a smile carrying centuries of ambition and untold conquests.

It had been slightly more than four centuries since his last words with the All-Seeing god and the declaration of the Great Era of Conquest. Back then, he had set what seemed like a bold yet realistic mission: Caesar, Sakaar, and Aro were each ordered to conquer 50 planets, with the combined goal of securing at least 100 planets before the thousand-year deadline.

But what he did not account for was the might of his own hands. He underestimated his three supreme generals, underestimated the terrifying efficiency of the technologies he had gifted them, underestimated the massive productive capabilities of the war factories churning endlessly, underestimated the inventive brilliance of the settlers in Sky Opening City, and underestimated, most of all, the boundless treasures hidden within the crusts of his worlds—especially within Nehari.

Each of these underestimated factors became sparks that ignited small-scale cosmic wars across Young Sectors 99 and 100. One by one, planets toppled like dominos, falling into the lap of his growing empire in great numbers!

The target of gathering 100 planets around Nihari before the end of the millennium? That goal now seemed laughably small—Robin's hunger had expanded far beyond such limits. His ambition had become a roaring fire.

Emily calmly adjusted her spectacles, her tone detached, as though she were simply reciting a routine report.

"At present, we control 877 S-class planets. In addition, we have established footholds in 125 R-class planets." She allowed a brief pause, then added, "These R-class planets, however, remain hotly contested against rival planetary empires—particularly amidst the ongoing war between the demons and a centennial planetary empire in Young Sector 100."

"877 planets already subdued…" Robin's eyes widened in astonishment before he leaned back slowly, resting into the throne's embrace once more. His voice came out half-incredulous, half-satisfied.

"That is more than double what I expected."

Three centuries earlier, each of the three armies held sway over only 20 to 30 planets apiece. And now—after Caesar and Aro had departed for the Mid-Belt with the bulk of their forces—Robin had thought progress would have stagnated, plateauing at 300 or 400 at most. Yet the truth before him shattered that assumption.

"At headquarters, we too assumed the tally would barely reach 300 planets at most by now, especially after the entire First Army was reassigned to Mid-Sector 100, alongside rumors at the time that General Aro and his forces had been dispatched into Mid-Sector 99," Emily explained with matter-of-fact clarity. "But three pivotal events shifted the tide, doubling the count and setting the wheels of conquest in unstoppable motion."

"Oh? And what were they?" Robin's grin broadened, his satisfaction now overflowing. He could bask in victory for hours, and still, more good news would never feel excessive.

"The first shift," Emily began, "was Supreme General Aro's fervent attempt to prove himself. In the absence of the First Army, he spearheaded an immense campaign of invasions and subjugations spanning several decades. His relentless efforts compensated fully for the void left behind. Meanwhile, the sheer size of the Third Army, bolstered by its countless generals, made it possible for them to expand their activity without restraint the moment the decision was made."

"Oooh…" Robin nodded in deep approval, his expression gleaming with pride. This was the spirit he demanded from his generals: the ability to turn night into day, to bend impossible odds into inevitable victories.

Emily allowed the silence to stretch for a heartbeat before continuing, her voice carrying the weight of significance.

"…And once Supreme General Aro, along with 70% of his army and the majority of his generals, was redeployed to the Mid-Belt, it was Supreme General Sakaar who rose to act. He rapidly subdued every R-class planet he had long postponed, finishing them within a mere handful of years and gave them to us in the headquarters. Then, in a bold shift of strategy, he implemented a grim yet effective policy: planting demon children on targeted planets. Within only a year or two of reproduction, conflict, and the steady spread of bloodlines, an elite squad would arrive to decisively end the war."

"…This policy of planting children, though steeped in shadows and moral ambiguity, achieved its exact purpose. The demon legions managed to sustain the same productivity as all three armies combined." Her eyes glinted behind the lenses as she added, "And the rise of numerous demons into the ranks of World Cataclysms made the task all the easier—sometimes, the mere unfurling of their dreadful auras was enough to shatter resistance and bring entire planets to heel."

"Splendid!" Robin's eyes gleamed as he nodded with vibrant enthusiasm, his voice echoing through the vaulted chamber like the crack of thunder.

The revelation that the Demon Army now contained multiple World Cataclysms was not entirely new to him—he had known of their existence for some time. Yet even with that knowledge, Robin was perfectly aware of the restrictions binding them: those Cataclysms could not recklessly unleash their apocalyptic powers without drawing upon themselves the merciless wrath of planetary spirits

. For that reason, the true credit behind this overwhelming success belonged first and foremost to Sakaar's razor-sharp military brilliance, and second to the remarkable evolution and discipline that the Demon Army had achieved as a whole.

For a single legion—no matter how mighty—to fill the vacuum of three entire armies that were meant to be equals in strength… this was not just news, it was history being carved into stone.

Meanwhile, the other two armies waged campaigns in the Mid-Belt, a battlefield far harsher than the Young Sectors. There, World Cataclysms and Nexus States roamed like storms given flesh, and planetary empires lurked behind every nebula, their banners planted on every other star. Each passing century in that crucible of war had tempered the three armies beyond recognition. Every one of them had grown several times stronger than in their early days of conquest, and still their strength surged, their momentum climbing higher like a tidal wave refusing to break.

Robin's brow furrowed, his golden eyes narrowing as his mind cut through the numbers Emily had provided.

"But according to your words, Aro and Sakaar merely maintained the pace. By such logic, the total number of S-class planets should be closer to three or four hundred at most. So how," his voice hardened with curiosity, "did we leap all the way to eight hundred seventy-seven?"

For the very first time since she entered the chamber, Emily's lips curved into a faint smile, her spectacles catching the glow of the throne room's ethereal torches.

"Here, Your Majesty," she said softly, "comes the pleasant surprise."

"…?" Robin's eyebrows climbed in disbelief. Until now, everything had sounded like dry military reports, cold figures of expansion. Pleasant surprise? His empire rarely delivered such things.

"Speak quickly. What is it?" Robin's voice cracked with impatience, his chest tightening with anticipation.

But just as the words left his mouth—knock knock.

"Hm?" Robin turned sharply toward the titanic throne-room gates, his brows knotting together in irritation. His command had been explicit: no interruptions.

"I distinctly recall ordering that I not be disturbed." His tone darkened, yet he raised his voice in authority. "Enter!"

Boooooooomk—the colossal gates groaned open, flooding the chamber with a draft of cold air. A Light Sword stepped inside, his polished armor clinking, his face drawn tight with unease.

"My deepest apologies for the interruption, Your Majesty."

Robin's eyes narrowed. This was the same Light Sword he had personally tasked with hunting down the Prime Minister and delivering him without delay. His frown deepened, his voice dripping with reproach.

"Why do you stand before me alone?"

With a face pale as parchment, The Light Sword dropped into a bow.

"Your Majesty, the Prime Minister… he claims to be suffering from severe diarrhea and insists he cannot appear before you today."

"Diarrhea, is it?" Robin's smirk widened into something between amusement and menace. His voice rose, carrying across the chamber like a commandment.

"Wade."

"Yes." The commander of the Second Imperial Guard unit entered with brisk precision, his boots striking the marble floor in rhythm. His expression was hard, his body taut with readiness, awaiting his Emperor's will.

"Accompany the Light Sword," Robin said, his tone almost playful yet edged with iron, "and bring me the Prime Minister. Even if his bowels betray him, drag him here with his filthy trousers still clinging to his legs." He let out a deep, resonant chuckle that made even the torch-flames flicker.

"Immediately." Wade snapped a crisp salute, then seized the trembling Light Sword by the shoulder and marched out with him, the sound of their retreating steps vanishing into the distance.

Only when the vast gates rumbled shut once more did silence reclaim the hall. Robin exhaled slowly, his smirk still carved across his lips. He leaned forward on the throne, eyes glittering like twin suns, and turned his focus back to Emily. His anticipation returned in full force, stronger than ever, almost childlike in its intensity.

"So then—" his voice rang with fire, "what is this good surprise you speak of?!"