Lord of the Truth

"Rebellions in the Second Army?!" Robin's entire body went rigid, his posture turning even more unyielding, his eyes narrowing with a storm of disbelief. "Explain yourself clearly—and spare me no detail."

The Second Army stood as the undisputed pillar of power within the empire. It was unrivaled, feared, and envied alike, for among its ranks had emerged beings of unfathomable scale—the dreaded World Cataclysms. And more of them would inevitably rise so long as the flow of food was sustained.

This was the very nature of the Demons. They were not natives of any world; they were more akin to a plague, a malignant disease that infested planets. Once the infection reached its advanced stage—the birth of a World Catastrophe—it doomed the very planet it inhabited, devouring its essence until both host and plague perished together. Such destruction granted no honor, no cosmic elevation to the Mid-Belt, only ruin and silence.

Until this very moment, Robin had built a portion of his confidence on the Demons' terrifying existence. They were to be the unshakable wall safeguarding Nihari and Jura. He had been certain—absolutely certain—that even if a millennial empire lurked in Young Sector 99 and somehow unearthed Nihari, the Demons alone would be enough to shield it.

But now… whispers of rebellion? Treachery within the very army he entrusted to be the sword and shield of the empire? What could this mean? Would the guardian become the executioner? Would the very creature he relied upon turn into the hand that destroyed everything?

The idea of uprisings erupting within the strongest army, the spine of the empire—even if only for this era—was not just troubling. It was catastrophic. To Robin, it was one of the most chilling pieces of news he had ever heard in his lifetime.

"Yes, Your Majesty." Emily bowed her head lightly, pushing her glasses back with a precise motion. Her voice was steady, measured, but beneath it carried weight. "In truth, the signs of rebellion began surfacing nearly two centuries ago. After the war against the Great Serpent Empire ended, the number of Demons was merely in the hundreds of thousands. But within a single century, their numbers swelled into the hundreds of millions.

"The new generation opened their eyes not to peace, but to endless planetary wars. They had methods to cross into other worlds, to plunder, to devour. To them, the universe was nothing more than an endless buffet."

"…But the problem lay in the leash their kings placed upon them. Strict decrees: attack only military forces, never civilians; set ambushes to draw out warriors instead of slaughtering innocents. Rules that made no sense to the younger Demons—laws they neither understood nor wished to follow. And yet, they submitted… reluctantly, with resentment simmering in silence."

"This suffocating restraint caused chaos to fester. Civilian raids multiplied, executions of Demon soldiers became routine. Entire squads were punished. Once, an entire battalion rose up, massacred the inhabitants of an entire planet in defiance, only to be annihilated to the last soldier."

"…That fragile state of outward obedience but inner rebellion lasted until General Aro and his army departed. Then came the decree to accelerate the pace of subjugation. For countless Demons, that was the final straw. Even the 'games' they played—slowing the harvest to stretch their food—were taken from them, as worlds were conquered swiftly and abandoned for the next.

"Incidents like the one I mentioned earlier multiplied, and the problem grew monstrously as the Demons' numbers surged into the billions. Most of them do not know you, my Lord. They have never seen you. They know nothing of the kings' battles, nor the loyalty proven with blood to earn your trust. They only know hunger, only crave flesh. And so, nearly twenty years ago, the unrest reached its crescendo—when a new king rose in defiance."

"A new king?" Robin's brows knit together, his face darkening. "Do you mean…?"

"It was a Demon general who ascended to the level of a World Cataclysm," Emily explained, her tone unflinching. "He listened to the cries of the masses and declared an R-class planet open as a free-range farm for all."

"How dare he?!" Robin's fury exploded like a tempest, his fist crashing against the arm of his throne as he surged to his feet. "Has the order of this world been forgotten? Does he think that simply because he became a World Cataclysm, I cannot crush him?!"

"There was no need for you to act, Your Majesty." Emily's voice cut through his rage, calm but sharp, a balm over fire. "In that very incident, General Amon personally descended. He tore the rebellious Demon King limb by limb and devoured him in front of his horrified followers. Then, with his own army, he waged a brutal war that drowned the planet in blood, slaying every Demon who had raised arms in rebellion. Tens of millions of Demons perished, and the planet's native population was utterly eradicated."

"…" Robin exhaled heavily, sinking back onto his throne, the weight of revelation pressing down on his shoulders. "And Sakaar? What did he do?"

"The Supreme General Sakaar was determined to prevent such a calamity from ever repeating," Emily continued, her gaze steady. "He summoned every Demon King and commanded their isolation at once. He declared that any king who left their designated planet without express permission would be branded a traitor and personally executed by his hand. The duty of invasion was shifted to the younger generation of generals, those who had not yet ascended to World Cataclysm.

"And it seems the measure has worked. For the past twenty-five years, minor rebellions have continued to spark here and there, but not a single Demon King has dared to make a suspicious move."

"..." Robin leaned his forehead heavily against his right palm, rubbing it in slow, deliberate circles as though trying to knead away both a headache and the weight of the empire pressing on his mind.

To the demons, Amon was the raw power—the hammer, the unstoppable fist that smashed everything in its path. Sakaar, on the other hand, was the mind—the strategist, the sole authority whose word bound even the most savage kings.

As long as those two giants remained aligned with him, the Second Army would never collapse in its entirety. Yet the danger lay elsewhere: with their overwhelming numbers and feral nature, rebellion was inevitable. They could fracture, split, devour themselves from within. And indeed… that was exactly what had happened.

The consequences were dire. The rebellions slowed the empire's expansion to a crawl and carved a deep fissure between Sakaar, Amon, and the other demon Kings. These creatures, Robin thought bitterly, were never meant to be chained in one place. Their restlessness, their hunger, it was like trying to lock a storm inside a jar.

Against his will, Robin found himself recalling the endless warnings of Neri—her voice echoing like a prophet's curse—as well as the warnings of every being who had ever known of the Red Plague.

Perhaps… this accursed race truly could not be restrained. Perhaps its instincts were beyond mastery.

Knock Knock

The sound reverberated through the vast, echoing throne hall. A moment later Wade's voice rang out, steady but with an edge of smugness:

"Your Majesty, the package has been secured."

"Enter," Robin replied, his voice cutting firmly across the silence.

Booock

The massive doors swung open with a groan, but instead of respectful silence, a shrill and indignant shout immediately filled the hall:

"Who do you think you're calling the package, you insolent animal?! Just wait—your salary this year will be slashed in half! Half, I say!!"

"Shhh—Imperial Guard affairs aren't even under your jurisdiction, you doddering relic." Wade strolled inside as though nothing were amiss, gripping an old man by the hair with his left hand and dragging him along the polished marble floor.

Robin's lips twitched. He wasn't sure if he should laugh or bury his face deeper into his palm. "Wade, you didn't need to bring him in like that."

Wade blinked in surprise, genuinely confused. "But Your Majesty, didn't you say to bring him—even if his trousers were filthy?"

The elderly man being hauled behind certainly didn't appreciate that remark either. His face flushed red with outrage. "Whose trousers are filthy, you worthless brat?! I'll find whoever oversees the Guard's payroll and slash their wages in half—in half!!"

Robin sighed and waved his hand lightly, a gesture of dismissal. "Just let him go… return to your post."

Baa!

"As you command." Wade released his grip instantly, letting the elder's head smack against the cold stone with a dull thud before snapping into a crisp salute and marching out.

"Arghhh! You'll see! I'll make you and that stick-wielding buffoon outside pay for this!" The old man—his hair streaked with black and white like storm clouds—staggered to his feet, clutching his aching skull with one hand while shaking his fist at the retreating guard. His voice echoed with a mixture of fury and humiliation.

But his tirade came to an abrupt end. Almost at once, silence swallowed the hall when a mocking, almost amused voice drifted from the shadows behind him:

"Well, well… what a pleasant surprise. Welcome to my presence, my dear nephew."