Lord of the Truth

"…!!"

At long last, Robin tore away a fragment of his concentration to examine what Arkalon had painstakingly set up for him.

Before his eyes floated twelve platforms, each one drawn and inscribed with intricate runes belonging to the Soul Path. At first glance they resembled random hovering discs scattered in the air, each spinning faintly with a dim spiritual glow. But Robin's eyes, sharpened by countless trials, quickly picked out the underlying structure: a subtle pattern connecting them all, threads of meaning weaving through the sigils until they aligned into what looked like a single vast matrix—an enormous formation born out of twelve seemingly ordinary circles.

Then Arkalon's calm but steady voice resonated, carrying the weight of his years. "Owner, I regret to inform you that I have not yet rediscovered the core formula of my technique. Recovering that foundation would demand far more time and research. However…" his eyes gleamed faintly, "…I have improvised something that will serve your situation now."

"…You are not like the ordinary Great Soul Masters I once studied," Arkalon continued. "You command far more than a mere million essence units. That excess is your curse and your blessing. I decided it would be wasteful not to turn it into an advantage." He lifted his staff toward the twelve floating discs. "Each of your strongest soul-creatures must step onto a platform, carrying the maximum of their soul force. Twelve beings, each at their limit. Together, they will divide the weight that crushes you."

Robin's expression sharpened. "This…" He turned toward Arkalon, voice dropping in disbelief. "If you alone possess a capacity of one million units, does that not mean the burden pressing on me would be halved the instant you enter the array alone?"

"Precisely—or nearly so." Arkalon inclined his head, his tone steady as stone. "And with every additional soul-creature joining at full capacity, the pressure upon you will continue to fall. With twelve in position, the load you carry will drop to less than a tenth of what it is now. Time itself will bend in your favor—the process will finish many times faster." His gaze softened ever so slightly. "This technique might have become my life's true masterpiece… if only I had known another being besides you who could shoulder such an overabundance of essence units."

Robin's lips curled into a wild grin, laughter bursting out of him like a flame. "Anything that strengthens me—anything that adds to my might—deserves the name masterpiece!! Arkalon, among all the riches and secrets I dragged out of the Valley of Specters, you may be the single greatest treasure of them all, hahahaha!"

"Your words honor me, Owner." Arkalon bowed slightly, though his voice carried no emotion.

Robin snapped his head back and bellowed toward the ranks behind him. "What are you all waiting for? To your stations! You are permitted—no, commanded—to unleash your full capacity!"

Whoosh! Whoosh!

The command had barely left his mouth before the mightiest of his soul-creatures surged forth within the expanse of his soul-domain. The spirit-lion Sharkan, whose power alone had nearly shattered Robin's domain. The zombie-dragon Arkhis, a lumbering beast of decay and wrath. The twin-horned sentinel Qashqai. The knight with the writhing proboscis head.

Several dread kings of the specters whom Robin had subdued after awakening the Eye of Truth using the Divine Decree. Each moved with purpose, their forms towering with palpable force. At last came Pythor, closing the roster at twelve.

Finally, Arkalon strode forward and set foot upon the central, largest platform, raising his staff.

Ooooom!

The twelve discs blazed as beams of translucent energy erupted, linking them together in the jagged geometry of a twelve-pointed star. Then, with a thunderous boom, the entire atmosphere shifted.

Robin froze for a heartbeat, then shivered at the difference. Moments ago, it had felt like the crushing weight of a mountain was being forced down upon his shoulders, threatening to snap his spine in half. Now that unbearable pressure dissolved, as though the mountain had transformed into nothing more than a heap of soft feathers resting on his back. His chest heaved with elation. "Ha… ha… HAHAHA!!"

850,000 essence units…

820,000 essence units…

The colossal tornado shuddered, its violent rebellion stifled, then contracted under their combined willpower at a staggering pace. Its struggle to break free had been utterly extinguished.

Hours blurred together in disciplined focus.

After two relentless hours—

310,000 essence units remained.

Robin's eyes narrowed as he muttered to himself, "This is unbelievable… Even in the Atlas of Souls, the Second Master of the Stellar Academy described how he suffered torment upon torment compressing his star. He admitted he failed the first attempt and only succeeded on the second. That man—head of a Stellar Academy revered across the heavens—never hinted at such a method, nor suggested one even existed."

For the first time in hours, Robin allowed his head to turn. He looked at Arkalon, who now stood firm upon his platform, both palms extended as he channeled power into the storm. "Arkalon," Robin's voice rang firm, "do you believe you could refine this technique further? Could you shape it so others without the trait of the elastic domain could employ it? Even if it requires external intervention or auxiliary tools, I don't care—if there is a path, we must force it open!"

"as you wish, Owner," Arkalon replied in his usual calm and measured tone, "Do you wish for me to halt the progress on the energy absorption technique for the time being?"

"What? No…" Robin's brows tightened once more, his expression hardening.

The true reason behind Arkalon's death had always been shrouded in mystery, yet Robin had uncovered a chilling truth: it was because Arkalon had once delivered a miraculous technique to the Soul Society—an innovation concerning the absorption of surrounding forces.

This forbidden method allowed the absorption of soul force with the same speed and efficiency as natural energy, erasing the gap that had stood for millennia. It was nothing less than a historical breakthrough, unmatched and unannounced in any recorded era!

Had such a technique been widely distributed, there was no doubt—the practitioners of the First Path, the Path of Soul, would have multiplied in number to a degree that surpassed all other paths combined. Especially since the Path of Energy still suffered from a glaring weakness in the use of the fourth stage, its practitioners stumbling where the soul cultivators would soar.

That was, most likely, why Arkalon had been eliminated: to restrict the number of soul path users… or perhaps to deliberately keep the Dreamer Galaxy in its known historical place.

The very first thing Robin did after binding Arkalon as his servant was to search for that technique. And just like most of Arkalon's legendary works, what he found was not a pristine creation but a broken remnant, torn apart, demanding endless effort to patch and rebuild. Robin had commanded him to begin the work nonetheless.

As a soul creature, Arkalon's creative instincts were shackled, almost extinguished. He was not like the living—he did not grow restless or seek to pass time by inventing new marvels. Yet he carried within him a library of experience and memories, profound insights into every matter of soul and spirit. With that treasury, he could mend, refine, and perfect anything placed before him, solving each puzzle with tireless precision.

Perhaps he could no longer forge miraculous innovations as he once did in life, but if he were handed an incomplete soul technique, or given a well-defined mission accompanied by even the faintest threads of clues, Arkalon would, without doubt, complete it to perfection.

Among all the infinite living and unliving beings scattered across the cosmos, it was nearly impossible to find even two others who could match the sheer brilliance and overwhelming knowledge that Arkalon held when it came to the domain of souls.

His ocean of memories on such matters was so vast, so immeasurable, that even Robin himself—despite his determination—had been unable to read them all properly, let alone digest and comprehend them.

And here lay the paradox: if Arkalon had remained alive, he might have been a true friend to Robin, or at least a powerful ally worthy of respect.

"…Just keep the Royal Star Compression technique at the back of your mind, alright?" Robin exhaled slowly, issuing his command with careful emphasis. "Whenever you feel the need to rest from studying the absorption method, shift your focus to the Compression technique. If you encounter an obstacle and can't proceed, tell me as always, and I'll assist however I can."

"Understood, Owner." Arkalon gave a solemn nod, his lifeless eyes reflecting neither warmth nor defiance, and then returned to immerse himself fully in the endless labor before him.