Lord of the Truth

"Young Sector 101?!" Amon's voice broke with astonishment, his whole body tensing as he turned sharply toward Sakar, his feature confused beneath the mask. "Am I missing something here? Has something slipped past me?"

"It seems we're about to find out." Sakaar's reply was calm yet heavy with seriousness, the kind of tone that silenced the room. He kept his perception locked on Robin, analyzing him carefully, as though trying to see through the folds of his mind. "My Lord, what exactly do you mean? Until now, I was under the impression that our playground was limited to the Young Sectors 99 and 100, and above them the Mid Sectors 99 and 100. Have you perhaps uncovered another wormhole leading to the Young 101st Sector?"

Robin's lips curved faintly as he folded his hands, "No, not another wormhole. But I found something far more valuable—a deal, and with it a potential ally." His tone grew sharper with each word, carrying both gravity and excitement. "There is someone named Hedrick, a monarch wielding the seventh stage of one of the Laws of the Destruction Path. This is no ordinary figure. He has offered to protect Nihari's Galaxy Seed during its ascension, but in return, we must guard another Galaxy Seed that belongs to him, located within the Young 101st Sector. Tell me, what do you think?"

Amon's whole body jolted, his voice coming out in disbelief: "A seventh-stage user? ...That surpasses a Nexus State, doesn't it?!"

Sakaar, however, did not flinch at the grandeur of the revelation. He focused instead on the heart of the matter, "Protect it from what exactly, my Lord? And for how long must we commit?"

Robin's expression darkened, yet his eyes gleamed with anticipation. "Protect it from a war that spans the entirety of the 101st Young Sector. The seed is named Verilion, nearly identical in scale to Nihari. At present, it is defended by an ancient millennial empire known as the Empire of the Shattered Meteors, but they are besieged. Every other empire within the sector has turned against them, reinforced by weapons and fleets arriving from the Mid 101st Sector." He leaned back slightly, smiling with pride at Sakaar's clarity of thought. "As for the timeframe… the mission stretches across 2,500 years—or until circumstances change."

"A war lasting 2,500 consecutive years, against an entire sector?!" Amon's rough voice faltered, betraying rare hesitation. Yet after a pause, he clenched his fists and forced strength back into his tone, "So be it, then! To hell with it—the demons will have their feast!"

Robin raised a hand, halting their rush of emotions. "When it comes to this matter in particular, I will not allow you to walk into this blindly. You will see first what awaits you before you decide. The choice will remain yours—whether to step forward or to refuse." He lifted two fingers to his temple, drawing forth two glowing spheres.

They shimmered with raw power—they were his memories, carved directly from the vision he had witnessed in the meeting chamber. With a simple flick, he sent them flying into the minds of Sakar and Amon.

Shoo Shoo

".....!!!"

The reaction was immediate. Despite the masks covering their faces, their bodies betrayed everything. Sakaar's fists clenched so hard his knuckles cracked, his entire frame rigid as stone, while Amon lurched forward, gripping his head with both hands, as if trying to contain the storm now raging in his mind. "This… this is dreadful…" he groaned.

Robin's voice cut through their turmoil, steady and persuasive. "If you do not wish to take part, I will not hold it against you. I understand. I only thought it might be a golden opportunity. The number of corpses, the caliber of powerhouses slaughtered there… it could propel you to heights you never dared dream of. Tell me, if the Crimson Plague cannot grow stronger from the crucible of a cosmic war, then what in the world could it ever grow stronger from?"

Silence followed, heavy and suffocating. At last, Sakaar drew a long breath, then spoke with measured firmness: "If we refuse… what alternative would there be, my Lord? It's clear you cannot afford to reject a cooperation of this magnitude with such a monarch."

Robin's brows furrowed slightly, a flicker of displeasure crossing his face. "That would not be your concern. If you decline, I will dispatch the imperial guards. They will handle it." His words carried finality, but his inner thoughts churned. He had never liked hesitation—especially not from Sakaar and Amon. Should he press harder, persuade them now before commanding them into the storm?

Perhaps. But then again… Latanya, Malik, and Wade had already proven themselves beyond doubt. Their followers were no less fierce. Sending nearly nine hundred of them into that battlefield would tear the enemy lines asunder.

His only regret gnawed at him—that he would not be able to summon them back when Nihari itself demanded protection at the hour of ascension.

"The imperial guards?" Sakaar shook his head firmly, his fangs bared. "No… the imperial guards will be powerless in the war of the skies. Only we have even a sliver of resistance to offer there." He ground his teeth, then at last nodded with grim resolve. "Very well. We shall go."

Robin blinked once, then broke into laughter. "Haha! You misunderstand, Sakaar. Your duty will not extend to the skies. Your mission will be far more grounded. You will eliminate every foe entrenched on the planet's surface—those who currently control half of it—and you will repel every wave that dares to land afterward. The war in the skies however, Hedrick and his generals will shoulder. Leave that weight to them."

Even as he clarified, he couldn't contain his laughter. The idea that Sakaar was ready to rush into space itself was absurdly bold! Yet not entirely impossible. A World Cataclysm could indeed burst through the atmosphere and fight for a time, though eventually he would need to descend again to breathe and recover strength. Only Nexus States could truly endure the void for years, feeding directly upon primal chaos as Planet Spirits themselves did.

"Oh…" The tension broke at last. Sakaar's posture eased, his massive frame relaxing into his seat. Even Amon slowly raised his head, his roughness replaced with a sly grin. "Well, that changes things. If that's all, then consider it done. 2500 years, or more, it wouldn't be an issue."

Robin gave a slow nod, satisfaction gleaming in his golden eyes. This was the answer he had wanted, the answer he had expected all along.

Even among billions of soldiers gathered on the battlefield, the arrival of a single World Cataclysm would be like releasing a starving lion into a farm overflowing with rabbits. The mere presence of such a being was enough to shift the balance of an entire war.

Robin leaned back slightly, his golden eyes gleaming with restrained power as he began to explain, his words flowing like a decree that none could misinterpret. "My agreement with Hedrick was sealed a week ago. The pact was not a vague promise—it was very clear. It demanded that you reach Verilion and participate in its defense within three years of the signing. Hedrick has already entrusted me with the precise coordinates, which he would not have done lightly. Do you realize what this means? It means he is gambling with Verilion's very existence, holding it in place for your sake, giving you three precious years to mobilize. After that, the seed will move, shifting its position into the unknown. He risks everything on our reliability."

Robin's voice grew colder, sharper. "Therefore, the first wave must depart as soon as possible. They must not only be strong enough to carve their way through hostile armies, but also cunning enough to survive. They must endure until Verilion relocates and stabilizes, long enough for you to summon reinforcements and bring the full weight of our support to bear."

"Understood," Sakaar replied with a grave nod, the weight of the words pressing heavily on his broad shoulders.

Robin raised a second finger, his tone even more deliberate now. "There is another matter you cannot overlook. Do not make the mistake of believing that simply because World Cataclysms and Nexus States cannot enter directly, you are free from their reach. Their soul sense will stretch across the battlefield like a net. They will feel for every ripple, every spark of power. That is why you must keep your numbers small and your presence subtle. Hide yourselves constantly within your upgraded armors, never remove them without cause. Dull the brilliance of your strength—show only enough to stand above your enemies by the narrowest margin. Let them believe you are dangerous, but not impossibly so. Force them into a slow, exhausting war of attrition."

He leaned forward, his tone low but pressing, "And remember—never allow yourselves to be seen in moments of vulnerability. Conceal yourselves before you eat, before you rest. Find a place deep beneath a mountain or buried in the crust of the planet if you must."

Robin then turned his gaze fully toward Sakaar, his expression sharp as a blade. "The imperial guards possess a number of sophisticated stealth arrays. They were forged for concealment in the darkest of campaigns. Go to Sky Opening City and demand them. Use them to cloak the lair you choose. Let it become your den, invisible to every probing sense that seeks you out."

"Understood," Sakaar said again, but this time his voice was heavier. He understood perfectly—every word was not instruction, but warning. Discovery of their true origins would mean not only death, but the unraveling of everything the lord had built.

"Good…" Robin's stare lingered on Sakaar, and for a heartbeat it felt as if he could see through the man's very soul. "I trust you will make use of this new battlefield, just as I trust you will not forget our earlier conversation about the choosing of new kings. You have always known how to seize opportunity when it rises." His voice shifted, threading another command within the praise. "And at the same time, do not halt the invasion of the Young 100th Sector. Time itself will prove that to be the most profitable investment you will ever undertake."

"...Understood," Sakaar murmured at last, bowing his head, acknowledging not only the direct order but the hidden implications buried beneath it.

Every phrase from Robin carried layers—strategies nested within strategies—meanings that only Sakaar, among all others, was capable of grasping and carrying out to perfection.

Clap. Robin brought his hands together, the sharp sound echoing like the closing of a chapter.

"Good. All that needed to be spoken has been said. The coordinates are now embedded within your minds. Prepare yourselves. Depart at the earliest possible opportunity. Do not waste a single heartbeat more than necessary."

At once, Sakaar and Amon rose in perfect unison, their imposing figures casting long shadows across the chamber. For a few long breaths, they held Robin's gaze, the silence between them heavy with unspoken loyalty and the acknowledgement of a trust that could not be broken. Then, as one, they struck their fists to their chests and delivered the formal military salute.

"We will rise to meet our Lord's expectations," they declared with voices that shook the walls. And without another word, they turned, cloaks trailing, and departed with the weight of destiny pressing upon their backs.