Lord of the Truth

Mid Sector 100 —

Clank Clank

Beneath a suffocating sky choked with ash, dust, and toxic vapors, the air itself trembled from the echo of distant explosions. The ground below was a graveyard of metal and blood—broken armor, shattered weapons, and the remains of fallen warriors scattered across the scarred earth. In the midst of that desolation, a colossal battle was unfolding, its fury shaking the very atmosphere.

On one side stood a vast human army, their ranks gleaming under the dim light that filtered through the clouds. Every soldier wore golden armor engraved with runes of protection, and from a distance, they looked like a tide of molten sunlight moving across a world drowned in shadow.

"Push forward after the second count!" one of the human generals bellowed, his voice crackling with command and authority. "One—Two—"

BAAAM!

The front line didn't wait for the third count. Without hesitation, every warrior hurled themselves forward like a golden avalanche, shields locking, spears thrusting, the thunder of their charge shattering the enemy's formation. Their enemies had heard the order, they had braced themselves for the charge—but it didn't matter. The momentum behind those armored humans was overwhelming, unstoppable. The sheer physical might driving each strike made resistance meaningless.

The opposing army—an alliance of mutated species and mechanical hybrids—found themselves helpless. Even if they could predict the humans' next movement, their bodies simply couldn't withstand the brute force that powered every blow.

KASHA!

General Raiden raised his spear high, and with one devastating swing, the skies erupted. The full power of a Level 50 Martial Emperor burst outward like a storm from the heavens. Thunderclouds cracked open, and streaks of silver lightning descended, striking dozens of enemy officers in an instant.

"STOP!!" a furious voice echoed from the other side. One of the World Cataclysms noticed Raiden systematically executing their command leaders. He couldn't watch any longer, his is rage boiled over as he dashed forward like a phantom of destruction.

Swoooosh!

"Hold it right there, handsome!"

A sudden flash of gold intercepted his path. A bald old man in obsidian-gold armor appeared, his presence like a mountain pressing against the storm. His laughter was raspy yet confident. "You'll have to go through me first if you want to touch our ground forces!"

It was Ryne, patriarch of the Maizer Family—and his aura had grown immensely since the day he had sealed his alliance with Caesar. Power rippled from him in waves, dense and suffocating, filled with the resonance of thunderous will.

"Ryne!!" the green-skinned World Cataclysm snarled, his fangs flashing. "Do you actually think the Maizer Family has grown strong enough to stand against me?! A few centuries ago, you weren't even worthy of kissing my boots!"

"The past is for the past," Ryne said with a crooked grin, his tone laced with both mockery and pride. "Now I'm part of the Centennial Cradle Empire. Our family have got sixteen World Cataclysms now— and more are rising every decade, hahaha."

After joining the Cradle Empire, the Maizer Family's rise had been meteoric. With access to high-grade stabilizers and cultivation techniques, every young Maizer broke through barriers that once seemed eternal. Counting Betsu, they reached thirteen Cataclysms within only a few decades.

But that was just the beginning. Joining the Cradle Empire lifted all reproductive restrictions—they could expand their lineage freely. New generations were born with powerful bloodlines, and from them, three more Cataclysms had emerged. Four young prodigies were now walking the path toward that same realm, each burning with limitless potential.

And beyond all this, there was something even greater—the legendary Sky Opening City, an ancient, near-mythical entity allied with the Cradle Empire. It specialized in crafting alchemical elixirs tailored to enhance affinity with the Law of Sound. To the Maizers, it was like witnessing a divine prophecy unfold. The dream of producing a Nexus State descendant—something once considered fantasy—was now within reach.

"You think the Centennial Holy Wind Empire would tremble before sixteen miserable Cataclysms?" the green-skinned being spat, his voice dripping with venom. "You dare boast with an empire that hasn't even reached a thousand years of age? A fledgling realm built from the scraps of fallen nations and lowborn rabble like you? Pathetic worms! Know your place!"

He raised his sword, energy pulsing violently around him. "Step aside, Ryne. If you value your pitiful life—leave now!"

Swoooosh!

Before he could advance, a second figure descended beside Ryne, her aura fierce enough to distort the battlefield air.

It was a middle-aged human woman, her long red hair streaked with strands of white that glimmered like embers. She wore the same black-and-gold armor, and in her hands burned a bow forged from pure flame. Her arrows weren't mere projectiles—they were radiant spears of infernal energy, each one carrying the weight of annihilation.

She drew her bowstring to the fullest, her voice calm, sharp, and commanding.

"Leave. I will not repeat myself."

For a brief moment, the World Cataclysm froze. He could feel the killing intent pressing down on him like an avalanche of fire. His instincts screamed that if she released that arrow, his body would cease to exist.

"...Tsk!" He spat with frustration and retreated swiftly, rage boiling but fear silencing his defiance. From the safety of the distance, he could only watch, helpless, as his officers—those he had commanded for thousands of years—were struck down one after another beneath the relentless advance of the golden-armored human army.

...In truth, those three were far from being the only World Cataclysms on the battlefield.

Bam Bam

The skies trembled as explosions burst through the clouds, shaking the air with thunderous roars every few seconds. The firmament was a swirling canvas of smoke, plasma, and flickering lights. Across that chaotic expanse, at least ten Cataclysms from both sides were engaged in direct, devastating combat—each clash birthing waves of energy strong enough to distort the land beneath them.

Yet not all of these terrifying beings had joined the fray. Many lingered in the shadows of the conflict, observing from afar, waiting like patient predators for the perfect moment to strike at the enemy's heart—or to intercept whatever secret weapon the opposing army might unleash. For beings of their level, a single move could shift the fate of everything.

"Damn it all…" The man hissed in rage, his body flashing backward at full velocity, streaking through the dusty air like a falling meteor in reverse. His pride stung, his aura flickered with furious energy. He kept flying until he reached the summit of a nearby mountain—its peak cracked and barren from the intensity of past battles—before landing heavily on the stone. "My lord! You must intervene!!"

"What is it now?" came a calm yet commanding voice.

A man sat atop a throne-like seat carved from a dark rock, overlooking the entire battlefield. His posture was straight, regal, and unshaken. Even though his location was completely exposed—visible to both armies—no one dared aim a single weapon at him. Not an arrow, not a spell, not even a speck of dust drifted near him without disintegrating.

He was the Nexus State assigned to this army—the supreme mind and will guiding their entire front. His very presence distorted the air around him, bending light in ripples, as though reality itself avoided touching him.

"Your Excellency," the green-skinned World Cataclysm said, kneeling immediately, his tone both urgent and restrained, "the situation in the aerial battlefield is still manageable, but the tide on the ground is worsening fast."

He clenched his fists and continued, "The rumors and reports about those golden armors didn't exaggerate enough. They are far beyond anything we've seen. Their defenses are monstrous, their coordination unnatural—and worse, they're using unfamiliar tactics we can't predict. The ground engagement has only lasted two hours, yet we're already losing foothold after foothold!"

He lifted his gaze, eyes burning with anger. "And this is all before the arrival of their famed Tera Cavalry Division! The four elite special forces units haven't even appeared yet. Not a single one of their aerial fleets or Draco squadrons has entered combat. It feels as if… they're deliberately using us to train their new recruits!!"

"....." The Nexus State let out a long, deep exhale, his eyes narrowing as he gazed down at the chaos below.

New recruits…? That would explain it. None of the golden soldiers on the ground radiated the seasoned aura of ancient warriors—the aura that usually clung to veterans who had slaughtered enemies for centuries without rest. Their movements were powerful but not yet fluid, their coordination near-perfect yet slightly mechanical.

So this was a training exercise? In a war of such magnitude?

Crack —his teeth ground against each other, the sound faint but sharp. Rage stirred within him, but his outward composure remained unbroken. "Continue the engagement at the same pace," he ordered, voice heavy with control. "It's well known that the Centennial Cradle Empire's armies can't sustain continuous battle for more than two hours. Every soldier you see now will soon retreat to take their affinity elixir, and replacements will arrive afterward. You must seize that window. Reclaim every inch of ground we've lost."

"That's standard procedure, my lord," the World Cataclysm replied bitterly, bowing lower. "But wars aren't won by trading ground in cycles. They'll return again and again until nothing is left but exhaustion! Please, my lord—intervene personally! If you were to descend and craft a legend here, the Cradle Empire would be terrified to continue this war. It would end before it truly begins!"

"Hmph." The Nexus State's expression darkened, his voice rumbling with restrained fury. "Me? Terrify them? You expect me to be the one to bring victory?" He rose slightly from his throne, and for a moment, the mountain beneath him cracked, unable to bear the pressure of his rising aura. "Do you not know who commands their army today, you blind fool?"

The World Cataclysm froze, trembling under the weight of that gaze.

"It is the Emperor Slayer herself," the Nexus State said coldly, his voice quiet but heavy enough to crush the air around him.

For a heartbeat, silence fell between them. The mere mention of that title made the sky seem darker, as though the world itself remembered her deeds.

"She's here?" the World Cataclysm muttered, color draining from his face.

"Yes," the Nexus State replied, eyes still fixed on the horizon where flashes of gold and thunder danced. "We've prepared countermeasures in case she moves. But honestly…" His tone lowered, the calm of a god hiding faint unease. "From all my heart—I pray she never moves at all. Let her stay a spectator, that would be for the best."