Lord of the Truth

"…Perhaps one of them will succeed, and Jura will ascend before the six hundred years are up."

Robin's words drifted into silence, and for a brief moment, his expression softened.

A faint smile tugged at his lips as he released a long sigh, one that carried both weariness and resolve. In his heart, he knew it was little more than a distant, almost unreachable dream. Yet… why should dreams be abandoned simply because they seemed far away? Why not leave a spark of hope burning, no matter how faint?

Jura was not just a planet—it was the very heart of his empire, the pulsing core of the First Army. Its soil had given birth to the mightiest generals, its skies had seen the rise of countless heroes. Nearly every symbol of power that the Empire of True Beginning could boast of had some tie to Jura. He himself had been forged here. The Burton bloodline, his children.

There is a reasonable possibility that this dream could come true... be it Caesar, Malik, and especially Richard or Raiden—succeeded in breaking through, the reward would not fall upon one man alone. The planet itself, together with every soul residing on it, would be thrust into the Mid-Belt.

But was such a transition dangerous? Absolutely. Terrifyingly so.

The chasm separating the Young Sector from the Mid-Belt was immense, like two different universes brushing against each other. Dozens of planets ascended every year, yet none ever arrived in the exact same spot. Instead, they were scattered randomly, flung like dice into the void, landing amidst starfields controlled by unknown powers.

For the ancient empires of the Mid-Belt, such appearances were nothing short of banquets—fresh prey delivered to their doorsteps, ripe for plunder. Bloodbaths erupted each time a new planet appeared, massacres that sometimes stretched on for decades until the strongest finally claimed the prize.

And what a prize Jura would be. Unlike the ordinary ascendants, Jura was overflowing with technology, glittering palaces, sprawling fortresses, and mountains of Pearls and treasures stripped from a hundred other worlds. Its wealth was unmatched. Its beauty was undeniable. To the hungry eyes of the Mid-Belt empires, it would be a feast beyond compare.

Yet Robin had accounted for this. He always did.

Waiting on the other side were not mere allies, but the Imperial Guard and the Grave Empire itself—empires whose names alone could halt entire fleets. With prepared planetary displacement devices of the highest grade, Jura could be instantly relocated into the starfield of the Grave Empire, shielded behind their vast dominion. In such a position, Jura would be secure.

For all its wealth and brilliance, Jura was still but a single, relatively small planet. No sane Mid-Belt empire would dare risk war with the Grave Empire and its dreaded Black Wasps for such a minor gain.

And if some fools did dare… then let them try. Let them learn what it meant to challenge a power of that magnitude.

The preparations had been thorough, meticulous, and complete. There was nothing more Robin could do now but wait. Wait and watch. Watch as his sons, daughters, and followers sought to pierce through the heavens, clawing toward the terrifying threshold of World Cataclysm. Watch, unable to intervene, as they risked everything for glory, while he remained bound by patience and strategy.

Why?

Because if he broke through prematurely—if he allowed himself to ascend before the six hundred years had passed—then it would not be Jura alone that rose. Nihari, the planet he had personally refined, would rise with it. And that would be catastrophic. The long-prophesied cosmic war would begin too early, long before the empire was ready.

And so Robin held himself back. Even though he possessed the power, even though he carried methods that could propel him into World Cataclysm at will, he restrained his hand. He was not desperate for level fifty. To him, six hundred years was but six hundred years—time he could afford.

As for his followers? That was another matter.

He had already given them everything that could be given. He had filled their hands with treasures, built them an environment overflowing with opportunities, supplied them with techniques from every corner of the empire. And yet, he held no grand expectations. For them, breaking through under the suppression was akin to replicating the impossible feat of Sivar—the only being across two entire worlds who had done it. Was such a miracle likely? No. Almost certainly not. But there was no harm in trying.

And even if they failed, the attempt itself would not be wasted. They would still grow stronger, still learn the intricacies of fifth-grade techniques, still temper their spirits in the fires of struggle. Their failures would sharpen them into blades.

"Your Majesty," Emily's voice broke the silence. Her brows were furrowed, her tone laced with doubt. "I know we have the Grave Empire as a supporter on the other side, but is it truly wise to cast Jura into the chaos of their wars and into the turmoil of Mid-Belt Sector 99 so soon? Six hundred years is not a curse—it is an opportunity. In that time, we can gather more forces, refine our strategies, and manage the empire's resources more effectively. Once Jura ascends, headquarters, Sky Opening City, and every other institution tied to this planet will rise as well. We won't be able to return. We'll be locked out of the Young Belt forever. Are you certain this is the path?"

"Hmm, true…" Robin nodded several times thoughtfully, then allowed a smile to slip across his face. "But do you know who else will ascend along with us in that case?"

"The army," Prime Minister Kristan answered without hesitation. His voice was firm, his eyes sharp as steel. "If even one person manages to break through, the restrictions shackling Jura's army will be lifted. At that moment, everyone will have a chance to step into the World Cataclysm realm."

"This…?" Emily raised a brow in astonishment, her mind racing with the implications. Zara, meanwhile, continued to lean on her hand, her eyes distant, weighing the possibilities in silence.

"Well said, nephew!" Robin snapped his fingers, his tone filled with approval. "If even a single soul succeeds, if Jura ascends a century ahead of schedule, then at the very least my children will all break through. After them, the generals, at least half of the Imperial Guards, the elite units, and the gifted talents scattered across the army! Imagine it—a force swelling with World Cataclysms, each one wielding fused and fundamental laws. Tell me, with such a host at my side, who in the heavens would I have left to fear?"

"I doubt it will be that simple, Father." Zara's sigh was soft, but her words were heavy with realism. "World Cataclysm is not a realm one simply stumbles into. Even an ancient empire like the Nine Paths can barely move such beings at will. Their entire number doesn't exceed a few dozen—certainly less than a hundred at most. For us to think we could gather dozens or hundreds so quickly… that would be wishful thinking."

"It's easy… if you're wealthy." Robin's tone carried both amusement and certainty as he waved his hand lightly, as though dismissing the entire concern. His smile stretched wider, confidence radiating from his golden eyes. "And we are wealthy. With a proper stabilizer, the chances of success don't just rise slightly—they soar. The individual's body, soul, and comprehension are all fortified at once. As long as natural talent exists and as long as they hold perfect, detailed techniques refined to the last symbol, then why should we hesitate? Let them try and fail, let them stumble and fall, then rise again and attempt once more. Each failure is a lesson, each attempt a sharpening of the blade. That is how foundations for giants are built."

He tilted his head, gaze drifting into the distance, as though his vision pierced the stone walls and doors of the hall and reached across sectors, staring at futures that only he could see. "I'm not so naive as to believe my army of tens of millions will all break through. That would be madness. But tell me—what is wrong with gaining one hundred World Cataclysms in the span of a single century? With the conditions I've laid down, with the resources I pour endlessly into their hands, I see no limits. I see no dead ends. I see only boundless possibilities waiting to be seized."

Emily lowered her head slightly, her brows pinched together as she exhaled a sigh heavy with worry. "Your Majesty… I fear that even one hundred is too ambitious, too high a hope. His Highness Theo has already secured several stabilizers of the planetary-core level, but many of them have been allocated away. A number went to the Maizer family, others to the Nightborne family, to the Sisur family, and even to the Mazdar humans. And beyond that, some have been given to newly-discovered prodigies across the Cradle Empire's planets—talents who are right now attempting their breakthroughs under strict protection."

"…" Robin arched his brows, his expression flickering between surprise and intrigue. So the number of human families that had pledged allegiance within Sector 100 had grown to four already? Excellent. More roots to spread through the belt.

tsk~ the Mid-Belt foundation of Sector 100 is indeed strong. A pity that the mission involving the Cradle Empire will need to be delayed, he mused inwardly, a thread of annoyance weaving into his otherwise calculating thoughts.

Emily pressed on, her voice steady. "At present, the treasury holds only seven stabilizers of this level, and their replenishment is agonizingly slow. Do you wish for us to halt the distribution to our followers already stationed in the Mid-Belt and instead reserve them exclusively for our youth in Jura? Perhaps we could supply the new allies and families with stabilizers of lesser grade—still useful, but not at the same pinnacle level."

Robin's gaze darkened with thought, his brows tightening. When one spoke of a stabilizer on par with a planetary core, it wasn't simply the unrefined core of any ordinary planet. No, it was something far more precious: a planetary heart tempered through specialized materials, or the meticulously polished skeletal remains of an ancient void beast, or perhaps even equipment forged for a planetary system itself—grade two, even grade three artifacts dismantled and reforged into a stabilizing anchor.

These things weren't impossibly rare, but the refinement process, the rituals, the sheer craftsmanship required, made them exorbitantly expensive. Each one was worth more than a small empire.

After a pause, Robin finally shook his head. "…No. Cutting our followers off now would be shortsighted. In truth, I believe the free distribution of stabilizers is precisely the reason those families joined us in the first place. It is the bait, the bond, and the foundation of loyalty. And it will continue to be the reason more families, clans, and sects bend the knee to us in the future." He tapped his lower lip thoughtfully with one finger, then raised his hand in a decisive gesture. "I'll send Theo more capital, a far larger fund than before. With it, he'll secure more stabilizers of this grade… and of higher grades as well."

Zara's eyes narrowed, her delicate brows knitting together in slight disbelief. She leaned forward, voice soft but incredulous. "Higher…?!"

The idea of stabilizers beyond planetary-core grade carried weight like thunder—things that could rival the anchors of ancient worlds or relics of primordial beasts. The mere thought was enough to stir unease in the hall.