Lord of the Truth

A few minutes earlier—

"Alright, alright, lets stop here again, just to make absolutely everything crystal clear," Richard leaned forward slightly, his eyes wide, his face reflecting pure astonishment, disbelief, and a hint of fear. "My father… he is involved in the cosmic war between Lord Hedrick and three Behemoths—simultaneously? Is that what you're saying?"

"That is exactly correct," the Shadow Sword responded calmly, his posture rigid, his gaze unflinching, almost as if he had delivered this statement countless times before, yet fully aware of the weight it carried.

"…?!" Richard's eyes darted around the faces of the other Shadow Swords and the imperial guards stationed inside the sleek, dimly lit craft, searching desperately for a hint of humor, a smirk, or even the smallest sign of disbelief. Perhaps someone would laugh or make a sarcastic comment—anything to tell him this was some kind of joke. But no. Every single one of them remained utterly silent, utterly serious, their expressions carved from stone. Not a flicker of doubt, not a hint of amusement. Richard's stomach sank slightly. He turned back to the commander of the Shadow Swords, his pulse quickening. "There must be some kind of miscommunication here. I—I'll ask again, just to make sure I understand…"

"Your Highness," the Shadow Sword said, his voice calm but firm, commanding attention, "no matter how many times you ask, the answer will remain the same. Yes, we are deeply involved in this cosmic war. In fact, you could say we bear half the burden of it ourselves. Your father and Lord Hedrick… they are partners. Equal partners in this conflict."

Richard froze. His mind struggled to process the words, his mouth slightly ajar. "Partners…? My father… a partner of Lord Hedrick? Lord Hedrick… the Son of Destruction?!" His voice was a mixture of shock, disbelief, and the faint edge of panic. His mind raced, trying to reconcile everything he had been told about his father and this war.

For centuries, he had been forced to alter his course multiple times, to flee alongside Serine at various points along their journey, narrowly escaping the chaotic devastation wrought by Hedrick's campaigns. Over the years, he had heard countless stories: tales of Hedrick's merciless strategies, his unstoppable assaults, his legendary victories and unmatched cruelty. Even if Hedrick were somehow defeated at this very moment, his name would remain etched into history, eternal as the one who waged a cosmic war single-handedly.

Hedrick, the Son of Destruction.

A being who faced armies of Behemoths, who have a entire starfield of his own, whose presence alone terrorized civilizations that had thrived for millions of years.

A name that literally sent shivers down the spine, spoken with awe and fear alike.

A Monarch, wielding a Seventh-stage Law… the seventh stage!!

And his supposed partner… Robin.

A man born to the Burton family on Jura, only a few centuries ago, who had spent most of his life in isolation, hidden from the eyes of the world.

Yes, his father is a prodigy—brilliant, inventive, capable of creating monumental innovations, including the Flame of Life he himself wielded. In just a few centuries, he had built a civilization that could rival empires many times older. But… a partner of Lord Hedrick? What had he done to earn such a position? What events transpired in his absence? When did he reach such a level of influence and authority?

Richard's mind reeled.

"Ugh…" He pressed his forehead against his hand, exhaling sharply. "I've lost count of how many times I've thought I understood this man… but apparently, I need to reassess him—again."

"We've entered the atmosphere," the ship's captain spoke, breaking through Richard's spiraling thoughts, his voice steady and professional.

"Your Highness, we are now directly above the largest ground battlefield on the southern front of the Cosmic Hammer Starfield—the zone personally commanded by General Alexander himself. I presume you have heard of this location?" The Shadow Sword's voice carried weight, emphasizing the magnitude of the situation.

"Of course I've heard of it…" Richard responded, a tight smile forming, a mixture of tension and anticipation flickering across his features.

How could he not? He had discussed this battlefield at length with Serine countless times—analyzing strategies, predicting outcomes, imagining how he would respond if he were in the defenders' position. They had spoken about the impossible odds, the staggering power of the support forces—forces whose strength was whispered about with both fear and respect.

And now it became clear: the 'support' they had spoken of… was none other than Alexander and his men.

"Excellent," the Shadow Sword continued, his tone sharp and urgent, cutting through the tension in the cabin. "In short, General Alexander can no longer hold this battlefield effectively. He is stretched to his absolute limits and requires substantial reinforcement—reinforcements I cannot provide for at least another two years. Your mission, Your Highness, is to assume General Alexander's position as supreme commander of these forces. You must hold the line, maintain the integrity of the defense, and ensure that not a single planet falls to the enemy. The reputation of the support must remain unbroken, hidden until the moment its source can be revealed at the most strategic time. Your leadership will determine the survival of countless lives, the fate of entire worlds, and the balance of power in this region of the starfield."

"Take command…?" Richard furrowed his brow, a mixture of disbelief and incredulity on his face. "I've never commanded an army in my entire life, not even once, and now you want me to lead one in the middle of a cosmic-scale war? Are you seriously expecting me to do this? Has your mind completely abandoned you?"

"…Battles in the Middle Belt are very different from the wars we have fought before, Your Highness. Here, our ground forces enjoy certain advantages, yes, but only in armor and in logistical supplies. That is the extent of our superiority. Our advantage in perfect laws has entirely vanished because our enemies also possess perfect laws. The elite martial emperors we relied on in previous engagements are no longer a decisive factor here; on this battlefield, every single ground fighter is already a martial emperor. The sages and saints, however, can be used effectively, primarily to carry and distribute supplies in the most efficient manner possible," the Shadow Sword explained with careful precision, his tone steady and deliberate.

"…But there are two grave issues that make this even more complicated. The first problem is the restrictions imposed on us simply because we come from the Young Belt. This limitation reduces our ability to absorb energy from the atmosphere and makes even activating attacks significantly more taxing. In the Young Belt, our troops could fight continuously for twelve hours using the elixir. Here, given the conditions and the strain, barely two or three hours will drain us dry, and even that pushes the limits of our endurance."

"The second problem," the Shadow Sword continued, "is the elixir itself. Having to rotate the army every two hours is an absurd requirement, especially during close-range ground engagements. This restriction forces commanders to favor overwhelming brute force over carefully planned strategies. It leaves very little room for tactical maneuvering and makes coordinated attacks extremely challenging."

Richard's face went pale as realization struck him. "You're making the First Army sound utterly useless…" he muttered under his breath, unable to hide the shock and disbelief in his voice.

"His Majesty's army is far from useless," the Shadow Sword countered immediately, his voice sharp and firm. "If it were truly useless, we wouldn't have managed to defend half the contested planets on our own. The army's unmatched equipment, its unbreakable unity, the variety of heavenly laws within its ranks that complement each other, and the deployment of special forces all combine to make it virtually invincible. Yet, despite all of this, it still lacks one essential element."

The Shadow Sword leaned in slightly, his gaze intense as he continued. "In circumstances like these, within the 100th Middle Sector, it is standard for His Highness Caesar or His Highness Peon to descend personally onto the battlefield and take command. Death Flame and Corrosion Winds are unleashed, sowing total chaos among the enemy, drawing their attention, and creating a crucial window of opportunity for our forces to reorganize and stabilize their formations. This is exactly the role you are meant to fulfill, Your Highness. As the son of His Majesty and one of the empire's pivotal power centers, you are uniquely positioned to take on this responsibility."

Richard pressed his fingers to his temples, rubbing the bridge of his nose as he tried to digest the enormity of what was being asked. "Are you telling me that during the rotation, I'm supposed to face the entire enemy army alone, for some period of time, just to draw their attention and allow our forces to regroup?"

"...Exactly," the Shadow Sword admitted after a brief pause, the weight of the command settling over him as well. "I understand that the way it sounds is extreme, but that is precisely the task before you."

Richard exhaled slowly, a wry, almost incredulous smile appearing on his face. "Oh, well, that's actually simple enough then. Why didn't you say this directly from the start? As long as you're not asking me to lead the troops in detailed strategies and orchestrate complex maneuvers, this is manageable." He turned sharply, striding toward the gate with purpose. "Hey! Drop me at the largest enemy gathering you can find! I want to make sure I'm right in the middle of the action!"