Lord of the Truth

"...Why is a Red Plague speaking to me politely and with reason?!" Leon stomped her tiny legs against the ground, frustration spilling out of her voice.

"Heh." Sakaar let out a rare, short laugh, the kind that carried both mockery and faint amusement. "That's actually a good question..." He continued walking a few more steps, his heavy stride echoing, before adding in a calm, almost nostalgic tone, "I would've liked to offer the thanks to myself for all the discipline you see, but the truth is... without him, I would still be nothing more than a dirt digger, wasting away in Nihari. What you see before you now is the direct result of the Lord's hand."

"The Lord again..." Leon groaned and kicked a small pebble so hard it clattered against the wall. "Do you mean that same person who taught you those bizarre, twisted techniques? Damn it all! Who in the world looks at your filthy faces, feels that suffocating aura of yours, and thinks: Oh, how sad... let me invent a method so these monsters can speak and hear properly!"

"Hey." Sakaar halted abruptly and turned, his rough tone sharpening. "Choose your words when you speak about the Lord. Without him, no one would be standing here to protect you right now." He extended a finger toward her as if to hammer the point in. "It was your so-called Overlord —your master's master— who begged us to come and keep you alive until you reached the Middle Belt. For that alone, you should feel grateful."

"Grateful?" Leon almost shouted, then quickly tried to lower her voice, though it still trembled with anger. "Should I be grateful to the one who cursed me with the most horrific plague a planet can suffer, second only to the Black Plague itself?! First I had to live in constant terror, never knowing when someone would try to destroy me. And now I'm trapped in an even greater terror—wondering what your presence will do to me and to my owner!"

She buried her small hands into her rock hair, voice breaking as panic poured out. "Oh heavens, I can't even tell my owner what you really are! He's hot headed—who knows what he would do if he found out? What if he files the report himself? What if he casts you all out, and I'm left once again defenseless? What if—what if—"

"Shhhh..." Sakaar stopped and pivoted sharply, his eyes narrowing, his voice suddenly low, coarse, and deadly serious. "If you can't bring yourself to feel grateful for our presence, then there's always another path."

"...?" Leon froze, silence stretching between them. "And what path would that be?"

"We go now," Sakaar said, his tone like steel, "and kill the ruler of the Shattering Meteor Empire, your owner, along with every single marshal and powerful follower under him. I may not be able to refine you myself as a plague, but I can easily bring you a new master—one loyal to my Lord. At that point, you'll have no choice but to shut your mouth, obey every order, or be forced into eternal slumber." He leaned down slightly, his towering figure casting a shadow over her trembling form. "Do you think I won't do it? Remember this: my mission is to protect the planet—not the creatures crawling on it."

"...." The spirit of the planet looked down, overwhelmed and on the verge of tears.

The sheer weight of contradictions and impossible choices she had been forced to endure over these past few years had worn her thin, leaving her exhausted beyond words.

"You know what? I think you're—" She raised her head suddenly, ready to finally tell Sakar exactly how she felt. But he was no longer in front of her. He had already turned and walked away, his massive figure fading into the corridors. "Wait! That's so rude of you!!"

"Strange, isn't it?" Sakaar's mocking voice drifted back, carrying the faintest edge of laughter. "To call a Red Plague rude. Do we even have manners? We are monsters, Leon. Monsters born for destruction as you say." He gestured casually toward a group of toddlers no older than two weaks who happened to pass by.

The little ones stopped, bowed with practiced discipline, and raised their voices together: "We greet His Majesty, the King!"

"Pfhh—stop mocking me!" Leon hurried after him on her short legs, huffing, "You guys are more well-mannered and organized than the entire imperial family of the Shattering Meteor Empire."

"Good," Sakaar replied flatly, almost proud. "It means you finally understand."

He halted in front of one of the great halls, standing motionless for a long moment. His soul sense swept through every corner, every shadow within. There were at least a hundred thousand corpses inside—an overwhelming stench that would have killed an ordinary human instantly. To Sakar, however, it was nothing more than the savory aroma of roasted meat drifting through the air.

After a few seconds, he nodded, his decision final, and began walking once more. "This hall is next in line for consumption. I estimate it should sustain us for at least a month."

"Tsk~ And if that's not enough, what then? Will you just starve to death?" Leon folded her arms tightly across her chest and continued trailing behind him, her small steps echoing faintly. "Another shipment of corpses has just been delivered from a planet under the empire's control—no fewer than forty thousand bodies. They should be brought here within a matter of minutes."

"Hmm... that's thoughtful." Sakaar halted and slowly turned his gaze downward toward her, his mask tilting slightly. "But what do you want today, Leon? You're not here merely to nag at me, are you? This isn't the first time we've had this same discussion, and I won't waste my time repeating the same quarrel with you every few months."

Leon's lips trembled, and for once she didn't fire back with sarcasm. Instead, she crouched down on the cold stone floor, pressing her head into her palms, her wide eyes staring blankly as if hollowed out. Her voice cracked. "...A disaster has struck. A catastrophe that threatens my very existence... and yours as well, if you even count yourselves as existing in the first place."

"What happened?" Sakaar's tone cut like a blade, sharp and unforgiving. "You should have spoken about the problem directly instead of circling around it with needless words!"

"Because it's already too late..." Leon shook her head slowly, her shoulders trembling, then lifted her large, tear-brimmed eyes toward him. "There's nothing we can do now. The calamity has already fallen." She swallowed hard, then forced the words out. "One of your followers—someone at the very peak of the Demon Emperor Domain—has been killed."

"What?!" Sakaar's entire body jolted, his aura flaring for a moment like a crimson flame. "How could that be possible?! Every single one of my followers is equipped with a refined set of mid-grade epic armor!"

"The Allied Army has been hunting the Crimson Elites for years, waiting for a chance. This time they prepared meticulously, laying their traps and weaving countless layers of arrays and curses. They struck with precision, killing him before he could even attempt to flee." Leon's hands clenched into fists against her knees, her eyes shaking violently as she spoke. "I tried—I really tried to strike them with bolts of thunder, but it happened too fast. They dragged his body away, retreated beyond the atmosphere, and vanished before I could stop them... They're gone already!!"

BANG!

"Damn it!!" Sakaar roared as he smashed his fist into the stone wall of the corridor, sending cracks spiderwebbing across its surface. The entire passage shook under the weight of his fury.

Leon flinched but nodded grimly, her expression heavy. His reaction was expected. "So you understand what this means... It's over. Once they strip the armor away and see what lies beneath, the truth will be exposed—our secret will—"

"Damn it, damn it all!!" Sakaar cut her off with another roar that reverberated through the hall. His shoulders rose and fell with rage. "Do you have any idea what each piece of mid-grade epic armor costs the empire? Entire treasuries are bled dry, entire factories grind to a halt, every last worker forced to focus on forging it. Each set takes weeks, months—sometimes half a year to finish! We barely managed to gather two hundred sets over the course of decades, and now we've lost an entire set just like that?!"

"Hah?!" Leon snapped her head up in disbelief, her small face flushed with frustration. "Did you even hear what I just said?! Our very existence has been exposed!! Do you not realize the scale of the danger?! It's not the armor that matters—it's the truth that will doom us!!"

"...." Sakar stood silent, the air around him heavy enough to crush. He neither looked at her nor responded immediately. After several long, suffocating seconds, he turned without another word and resumed his march down the endless corridor, his boots striking the floor with thunderous weight.

Finally, he spoke, voice low and grim. "I'll have to send for more armor. It's been years since we got anything good—surely that is more than enough time for the forges to have produced replacements."

Leon froze in place, staring at him with her mouth agape, unable to believe what she had just heard, "................?!"