Lord of the Truth

Two Days Later—

Clack...

The grand doors of the throne hall creaked open slowly, echoing through the vast chamber. Without a moment's hesitation—thud!—a figure strode in and dropped to one knee in a precise and practiced military salute, his head bowed with reverence and purpose.

"As soon as I returned and learned that I had been summoned—personally—by name, by Your Majesty himself… I could hardly believe my ears. But here I am—Raiden, reporting for duty!"

"Haha, come now, come sit," Robin beckoned with a hearty laugh, gesturing toward the seat across from him.

Bzzzzzt! In less than a blink, Raiden vanished from the entrance. The next moment, he was seated in the chair like lightning itself had delivered him there. His eyes were wide open, sparkling with eager energy. He stared intently into Robin's gaze like a child who knew he was about to be handed the toy of his dreams.

"…"

"…" Robin raised his eyebrows ever so slightly. "It seems that some rumors have already slipped out? Word of the visitors who came before you, perhaps?"

"Just a little," Raiden replied instantly, smiling innocently—but his eyes remained fixed on Robin, glowing with barely restrained anticipation.

"I wanted to ask you about the situation in the Middle Belt, the recent movements there, and the—" Robin began, trying to shift the topic. But he stopped himself halfway through the sentence. It was no use. The expression on Raiden's face, the way he leaned forward slightly, practically vibrating with excitement—he clearly wasn't thinking about military reports.

Robin chuckled softly. "Alright, never mind that for now. Here, take this."

From within his robes, he retrieved a small, silver-plated metal tablet and extended it toward him.

"What is this, Your Majesty? What's this?!" Raiden asked in a rapid-fire tone, already reaching out with his spiritual sense.

Buzz.

The moment he connected with the tablet, he let out an awestruck gasp. "Oooooh!!" Then, blinking, he looked back at Robin in surprise. "Wait—what exactly is this?"

Smack! Robin facepalmed lightly. "You need to calm yourself, boy. I understand—your high natural affinity with lightning has shaped your entire being. It made your spirit wild and impatient, Your thoughts constantly racing like a storm… but you're still a general in my army. That means discipline. Focus. Control."

He pointed to the metallic tablet in Raiden's hands. "That's a tattoo. More precisely—an advanced, high-grade offensive tattoo."

"…Truth be told, Raiden," Robin continued, his voice taking on a more thoughtful, reflective tone, "had I thought too long about what to give you—especially near the end of my seclusion—I probably would've chosen to give you nothing at all. You, as you are right now, are already perfect. If I forced you to train in a merged law, I'd be undermining the unique trait that defines your body. And frankly… who am I to tamper with a living masterpiece?"

He shook his head slightly, as if brushing off a tempting idea. "Still, you're a general of the empire. Strengthening you is my responsibility, as long as I have the power to do so. The years ahead will not be kind. They will be ruthless, and unrelenting. My path—our path—toward the statue of Behemoth must be paved in blood and carved into stone."

He looked Raiden in the eyes. "You truly are exceptional, Raiden. On the inside, at least. I cannot modify your energy foundation—nor should I. Nor can I grant you any of the merged laws I gave the others. But I found another way—a different path to increase your power... The Offensive Tattoos."

He smiled faintly. "These tattoos carry a special trait. Instead of drawing from your own energy, they pull power directly from the surrounding environment—nature itself fuels them. But of course…" he raised one hand, fingers spread, "they come with problems. Serious ones."

He lifted three fingers.

"The first issue is that they draw a fixed amount of energy from the environment before releasing a preset attack. Think of them like a magical bow that only fires the same arrow, again and again. Why? Because most users can't manipulate or convert the ambient energy—they lack the finesse to shape it—so the tattoo has strict, locked-in instructions."

He then lowered one finger. "That problem? I've solved it—for you. I've erased those limits. You, Raiden, possess an affinity with lightning so profound it borders on divine. I trust that you'll be able to control the ambient energy after it's gathered—molding it into lightning with ease."

"I've also given you control over how much power the tattoo gathers. Whether a little or a lot, you choose. You guide it with just a small thread of your internal energy directed into the tattoo. With that, it will do the rest."

Robin leaned back slightly, his eyes narrowing as he continued in a tone thick with experience and precision, "Now, the second issue is the pain. When energy is pulled from the surroundings and converted into a law, it doesn't flow gently into your command. No, Raiden—it attacks you first. It floods your body with raw, chaotic force before bending to your will. To protect their users, the Celestial Artificers who crafted these tattoos placed numerous restrictions—barriers designed to prevent the user's body from absorbing too much transformed energy at once. A necessary safeguard, perhaps... but one that stunted the tattoo's true potential."

He lifted his gaze toward Raiden, a mischievous glint in his eye. "So, of course… I removed all those limitations. Every single one. Now, if you desire, you could walk through a thunderstorm naked and come out unscathed. This tattoo will let you bathe in lightning, and I know what you will walk out without suffering a single burn."

Robin lowered a second finger, emphasizing the point.

"Now to the third complication: pressure. When a normal warrior begins drawing energy from the air, from the world around them, they experience an overwhelming sensation—as if they are being pulled into the abyss, as though the sky itself is collapsing around their lungs. It's like being deep underwater, suffocating in unseen force, before the energy even transforms into its law state."

He paused and raised his index and middle finger together for emphasis, then slowly continued, "That feeling—the sense of drowning—causes hesitation, fear, panic. It robs fighters of their edge. That's why I modified the tattoo's internal structure. I embedded precise patterns based on the Law of Energy Flow—ones designed to disperse the overwhelming pressure. Now, instead of gathering energy everywhere, your tattoo will filter the surrounding force and concentrate it only in the exact point you wish to strike. No more chaos. Only clean, lethal control."

Robin's eyes twinkled with confidence. "And as a final touch, I accelerated the conversion process. The moment energy is drawn in, it begins transforming into lightning almost immediately. You won't feel a delay, or a burden. Just speed. Pure, focused speed."

Raiden stared down at the tablet, breath catching in his throat. His fingers ran gently across its surface, feeling the engravings etched by hands older than centuries. "This… this is amazing," he muttered, his voice somewhere between awe and disbelief. Then he glanced up, brows raised, eyes wide, "This is… good, right?"

Robin couldn't help but laugh—low, pleased, and rich with pride. "Hehe. Oh, Raiden. You truly are a one-of-a-kind specimen. These modifications could only be made for someone like you. A being with perfect elemental affinity for lightning. There is no other."

He leaned forward, voice lower, more intimate.

"What this means is simple. With this tattoo… you could fight for days without ever touching your internal energy reserves. You could wage a war alone, surrounded by enemies, and never tire. And if you choose to combine the tattoo's external energy channeling with your internal energy stores? Then your power—your true power—will be unleashed in full."

Robin's voice grew firmer with each word.

"Your strikes will carry the might of thunder gods. Your speed will become something no eye can follow. Your instincts—already sharp—will become instantaneous. Because you will no longer be fighting as a man... you will be moving through your natural environment, like a storm given form. That tattoo will transform the battlefield around you into a forbidden zone—a tempest where lightning obeys only you, and all others perish."

He then raised a hand and pointed at Raiden's chest. "When you were young, they used to call you the Son of Lightning. It was a nickname, a passing title... one that faded when you became the Great General Raiden, feared across realms."

He smiled fondly. "But now? Now this tattoo carries that name. Son of Lightning. It will make you a real one"

Raiden didn't answer.

Drip… drip… sniff…

Robin blinked, then frowned in confusion. "Hey—what's wrong with you now?"

Raiden, seated in silence, had tears welling in his wide, glowing eyes. His cheeks were flushed, his nose running just a bit, and his lips trembled. "T-thank you… Your Majesty," he whispered. "I… I really like it. I really do."

Robin groaned, though a smirk tugged at his mouth. "Alright, alright—no need to melt into a puddle over it. It's just a reward for your years of dedication, your relentless service."

He made a gesture in the air, half-mocking, half-genuine. "Come on, now—wipe those tears. I need a real report from you. Tell me—how are things in the Middle Belt? Have you noticed anything out of place recently? Has the atmosphere changed in any way?"

Raiden sniffled once more, straightened himself, then nodded. "Which detail do you want me to focus on, Your Majesty?"

"Let's start with energy density," Robin said quickly, leaning forward slightly. "Have you noticed a real difference in the concentration of ambient energy between the young belt and the middle one?"

Raiden nodded. "Yes and no, Your Majesty. It depends on the planet. For instance, Planet Orlando—where I was stationed for over fifty years— the conflict zone between the Empire of the Nine Paths and the Iron Boar Empire. The energy there is significantly lower than what we have here on Planet Jura."

He then raised a hand, adding, "But then there's Planet Azakra—which is considered the capital, the very heart of the Empire of the Nine Paths. That's where we first landed during our invasion. And there, the energy density is so thick and refined. But at most it can rival that of Nihari ."