Lord of the Truth

Hoo…

"Hmm?" Robin glanced around slowly, surveying his surroundings before nodding a few thoughtful times. "So she returned us directly to my academy building. Truly, Her Majesty the Monarch can be surprisingly considerate and gentle when she wants to be."

"To be honest," Shaddad muttered while scratching his head, "I think she's mostly being considerate of the students who are still protesting outside her office in ridiculous numbers."

And Jabba nodded vigorously after him, adding with a tiny shiver, "Right, maybe she was worried she might accidentally strike one of the kids if she teleported us outside. That would be… messy."

"...You two seemed very free today, making all sorts of commentary about my actions, weren't you?" Robin shifted his gaze toward them, a peculiar smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "How about I assign you some real work then?"

"...?" Jabba and Shaddad exchanged confused, slightly worried looks.

Robin then turned toward the plush, bear-like disciple. "Shaddad, as you can clearly observe, my extremely disappointing disciple here is practically a zero in almost every category of power. It may take him quite some time before he chooses a Law that fits him… but he must not remain weak in the meantime. Turn him into a peak-level Martial Emperor using your specialized weaponization method. Put the bill on me."

"I swear you will not pay a single thing!" Shaddad barked, almost violently. "I already decided that I would handle this personally anyway."

"I'm just say—"

"It's settled! You won't pay even a speck of Pearl-dust!" Shaddad slapped Jabba fiercely on the back with a resounding BAM, knocking him forward a step. Then, pounding his chest, he continued with devotion, "He is my elder brother. I'll make sure he's properly taken care of."

"...Thank you." Robin smiled softly and nodded once, knowing full well how Shaddad behaved when stubbornness consumed him. Then he turned toward Jabba. "Submit yourself to Shaddad; he'll adjust and fortify you through weaponization. You already possess the first and second volumes of the Soul Atlas, so study them carefully and thoroughly. And if you require assistance, seek out Morgana—she sides with us now. Within a hundred years, I expect you to return significantly stronger than before."

"Ughh…" Jabba gave Shaddad a pitiful glance for a moment, then quickly nodded toward Robin. "Yes, Master."

"As for training your internal energy pathways… hmm…" Robin rubbed his short beard thoughtfully, his expression slightly grim. "I cannot give you much theoretical advice in that aspect, but I can provide some practical help."

Robin reached into his storage, pulling out three massive metallic slabs, each nearly identical in size to his own height. He inhaled deeply, fragmented his consciousness into three distinct portions, and inserted his soul sense into all three slabs simultaneously, working several layers of information at once.

"….." The two stared silently at the bizarre operation for several long, heavy minutes, unsure what to say. Finally, Shaddad leaned closer to Jabba and whispered, "What do you think he's even doing?"

"When he accepted me as a disciple," Jabba murmured thoughtfully, "he gave me hundreds of Laws to study, hoping that the Truth might eventually acknowledge me. Because of those Laws, I accumulated a massive amount of knowledge, which later helped me awaken the Eye of Truth for real." He shrugged helplessly. "Maybe this time he plans to give me thousands of Laws. Honestly, I wouldn't put it past him anymore."

"…He accepted you as a disciple before you even became a Truth Chosen?!" Out of all the things mentioned, that was what Shaddad locked onto. "What in the deep hells did he see in you back then?!"

"You're still clinging to that question?" Jabba let out a wry chuckle, closing his eyes briefly as he recalled their very first encounter. "Hmm… I think he was genuinely impressed by the sharpness of my mind. I'm sorry—I don't mean to brag—but that was when I correctly deduced he came from another world entirely, while my planet didn't even know space invasion was possible at the time. I honestly don't think there's any other logical reason. My physical talent is practically worthless in his eyes, after all."

"He was impressed by your intelligence during your very first meeting…?"

Shaddad seemed to lose all force at once, his shoulders slumping as if he suddenly aged a thousand years on the spot.

...In their very first meeting, he made a complete fool of himself—stumbling over his words, acting clumsily, and drawing every bit of attention for the wrong reasons. It had reached such a point that Her Majesty, Monarch Althera herself, had to scold him and order him to reflect on his actions.

Slowly, Shaddad walked down the steps of the grand academic hall until he reached one of the stone benches. He sat down heavily, resting his forehead between his hands, his mind drowning in thoughts that stabbed deeper than any blade. Could it really be... that he had lost the chance to become the disciple of the Great Truth Chosen of this entire era—just because he wasn't clever enough at dealing with people?

He had lived his whole life surrounded by silence.

He had always been the quiet one—rarely speaking, rarely mingling, rarely needing to. Conversations and social subtleties had always felt foreign to him, like a different battlefield he had never trained for. He was a genius in the art of the body, a prodigy of raw strength, a warrior whose very essence resonated with the Master Truth Law itself. The Law acknowledged him. It responded to his being. Yet all of that seemed to matter little when faced with something as simple as human communication.

He didn't know how to weave words, how to plot and persuade, how to build relationships or connect ideas in the vast social web others navigated so easily.

All he knew was how to live among books, draw diagrams, inscribe runes, and strengthen his body and soul.

And now, sitting there in silence, he couldn't help but wonder—was that really why he was passed over?

Wasn't that too cruel? Too unfair?

To be abandoned not because of weakness, but because of what loneliness did to him?

"Alright," Robin's calm yet firm voice broke through the silence as he finally opened his eyes. He raised his hand gently, and three massive metal slabs floated before him, each radiating a faint pulse of divine resonance. With a subtle motion, he sent them gliding through the air toward Jabba. "After you've seen what's inside them, destroy them."

"Ugh," Jabba groaned, struggling to carry the slabs, clutching all three as if he were holding a wardrobe made of solid iron. "Tell me honestly, Master... how many thousands of Laws are inside these things?"

"Hmm? What kind of ridiculous question is that?" Robin's tone sharpened, though a faint smirk crept into his eyes. "Why would I give you thousands of Laws when I already told you I'd help you choose just one? Do you think I'd allow you to pick through random cosmic trash?"

He gestured toward the floating slabs, each one humming faintly with celestial energy. "These three each hold something very specific. One contains the first tier of the Master Balance Law, another contains the first tier of the Master Creation Law, and the last contains the first tier of the Master Spacetime Law."

Robin folded his hands behind his back, his presence calm yet overwhelming. "You won't just find ordinary explanations within them. You'll find complete frameworks—their core principles, their divine applications, every inscription and rune related to those tiers, and an expanded commentary on their mechanisms. If you wish, you can choose one and begin building your foundation using it... but once again, I do not recommend Balance."

He paused briefly before continuing, his voice steady and serious. "Understand this, Jabba—if you choose one, your progress will most likely be bound to mine. As long as your comprehension depends on what I've already discovered, your future growth will remain tethered to me. Unless you uncover the Law's essence from its roots, you'll never truly own it. And also—hmm?"

He stopped mid-sentence. Jabba's face had turned ghostly white—so pale it nearly glowed. With his jet-black hair and his mouth wide open in an oval shape—o0o—he looked like a terrified cartoon character caught in the headlights of divine revelation.

"Didn't I tell you before…" Robin clenched his teeth, raising his hand with visible restraint, "to stop embarrassing yourself?!"

He waved sharply—THAK!—and a burst of energy descended upon Jabba's head, reconnecting his body to his soul domain in an instant.

"Ah!" Jabba yelped, clutching his head before turning toward the three towering slabs. His eyes shimmered like a child's before a miracle. "These... these are for me?" He hugged them tightly, pressing his cheek against the cold metal as though embracing a long-lost son. "For me?! Really?!"

Robin frowned slightly, sighing in resignation. "Listen carefully. Once you've finished reading them—whether you use them for breakthrough or not—I expect something in return. A creation. A technique. An array. A martial art. Any form of innovation will do. Maybe a solution to a problem the Empire cannot crack."

He stepped closer, his tone now carrying the weight of command. "Something tangible must emerge from those three Laws by your hand. I'll accept at least one application... every thousand years. Do we have an agreement?"