Lord of the Truth

"A third-grade planetary weapon? With a natural affinity to a Fundamental Path?!" Robin heart jumped as if bitten by a venomous serpent.

Anything compatible with the Fundamental Paths was extraordinarily rare—bordering on legendary. Robin himself once possessed the Spear of Space, a sleek, jet-black spear that, in the hands of a titan like Holak, resembled nothing more than a toothpick. Yet, despite its unassuming size, the spear had a deep resonance with the Fundamental Path of Space, allowing its user to manipulate space with extraordinary finesse.

But it just wasn't enough.

While it was exceptional for executing spatial techniques, the weapon itself was physically fragile—too fragile. In any intense melee, the spear could be snapped like a twig. That's why Robin would often switch to sturdier, more reliable weapons, like thick spears forged from refined Uraselium, whenever he anticipated direct confrontation.

Sadly, this made the Space Spear fall from its place as his primary weapon. And after it was ultimately shattered at the hands of Helen—while it was stored within the spatial ring that later disintegrated—Robin didn't even bother issuing an order for a replacement.

That spear had its flaws. But aside from that imperfect relic, Robin had never come across any true weapon attuned to a Fundamental Path—until today. And this one wasn't just any weapon—it was a third-grade planetary artifact!

"But… that price?" Robin's brow furrowed, confused. The Scythe of Dimming was being offered at a lower price than the Jar of Greed, even though it was clearly a more advanced and powerful artifact.

But he quickly shook his head, brushing aside the thought. No one understood the dangers of interacting with the Law of Death more than he did. It made perfect sense that its price would be suppressed. After all, only someone with a genuine affinity for the Death Path could wield that scythe safely. Anyone else who tried would simply meet their end at its hands.

"I'll take it. 2.6 million dew," a raspy, hollow voice declared.

Robin turned sharply toward the first bidder. "So, the battle begins. A third-grade planetary weapon is definitely going to fetch a high—" But his words stopped dead in his throat.

That being... That entity who spoke... didn't look human. In fact, it didn't resemble anything he had ever seen in his entire life.

Even while seated atop a floating cloud, its massive form was unmistakable—at least four meters tall. Its body was wrapped in a flowing white robe, but it was painfully thin, almost skeletal, as though the robe hung on bones alone. Its face was in a state of gruesome decay—barely any flesh remained. What was left was dry, rotten, sagging skin clinging loosely to bone.

Its eye sockets were hollow voids, yet each contained a glowing white point of light, burning dimly but purposefully—its eyes. Long, unkempt hair fell around its body and obscured parts of its grotesque face.

If one were to describe the creature in a single word, it would be dread.

"Oh fairy… what kind of disguise is that, exactly? I've never seen anything like it—it looks far too real," Robin muttered with a clenched heart as he stared from afar.

<That's no disguise. No illusion. That's a fully manifested avatar in perfect detail,> the fairy twirled midair, giggling slightly. <That individual is Lord Dearth—one of the high-ranking generals of the Necropolis Fortress!>

"…!!!" Robin's eyes widened until they could widen no further. "Those are the rulers of the Necropolis Fortress?!"

<More or less. But don't be mistaken—the Necropolis isn't a dynasty or a bloodline. None of them can reproduce to begin with.> The fairy waved her tiny hand dismissively. <The Necropolis is a gathering place—a sanctuary—for all manner of undead beings. They welcome all who have been touched by death, no matter how powerful or how pitifully weak.> She gestured toward Lord Dearth with a sly grin. <They all walk the Death Path, and they've practically cornered the entire market when it comes to the resources, tools, and weapons of that path.>

"Undead? What exactly are they?" Robin asked, his voice sharp with sudden, overwhelming curiosity.

<The undead are beings like the treants, golems, and the various strains of planetary plagues. They possess a certain degree of intelligence—enough to operate and survive—but they are nowhere near comparable to humans or humanoid races in population, creativity, or higher reasoning. It is said that they are formed when corrupted souls, steeped in malice and darkness, fuse with decaying corpses under very specific, sinister circumstances. Some legends claim their origin always begins with someone foolishly tampering with the Death Path, unintentionally unleashing corruption upon themselves and those around them. Others say that if one dares to approach one of the ancient undead—those who have existed for eons—or simply ventures into the cursed Necropolis Fortress, they can be turned into one of them. There are, truthfully, many roads that lead to undeath… and none of them are easy.>

"…That's… tragic." Robin exhaled deeply, his breath heavy with unease. A quiet sorrow flickered in his eyes, as if he'd glimpsed something dark beyond the veil of logic and power.

He turned his attention back to Lord Dearth, watching the grotesque general in silence. The figure stood like a monument to decay and persistence, yet something in his presence commanded an ancient authority that even Robin couldn't deny.

A dry, ironic laugh escaped Robin's lips. He shook his head slowly, as if mocking some invisible truth, then nodded with a look of grim recognition.

It was no wonder he had always felt that touching the Death Path would inevitably cost a person something invaluable. Even though he hadn't known what the undead truly were until this moment, he'd mentioned something similar to Caesar more than once. So this... this is the end result? This is the fate of those who chase death too closely?

But the fairy's voice broke through the fog of his thoughts, light and sharp.

<It's not as tragic for everyone as you might imagine. The undead have an entire system of power and cultivation that is uniquely their own. More importantly—and this is what draws many to their path—they are not subject to the Universal Law that limits all living beings to a maximum lifespan of 100,000 years. This one fact alone is enough to tempt thousands. Many aging cultivators, especially those who have reached the peak of their potential but are too weak to condense a Planetary Soul and protect it, choose to surrender their humanity and become undead instead.>

<Of course, it's not without cost.> she added, voice quieter now, <They lose large portions of their memory, their capacity for emotion fades, and the goals and dreams that once drove them are erased. They become something... different. Something hollow. But for those who fear the unknown void that follows death, it is the path of least resistance. A terrifying, hollow, eternal resistance.>

"....." Robin's expression hardened. He nodded slowly, then murmured in a voice barely above a whisper, "I like the way you put it. They fear what lies beyond death. Because in truth, they are nothing more than corpses that forgot how to die. Walking remnants. Pitiful things, really…"

His gaze shifted from the stage to the surrounding crowd.

"...Why haven't I heard a single counter-bid until now? Is everyone here so terrified of the Necropolis Galaxy, or is it something even worse?"

<They simply don't want the Scythe of Dimming,> the fairy said plainly, shaking her head, her wings flickering in amusement.

"What? Because it's only aligned with a minor law of the Death Path and not the main one? Or just because it's connected to death at all?" Robin raised an eyebrow, his voice laced with both challenge and curiosity.

Truth be told, affinity with a sub-law was extremely common, and often desirable. For example, if the scythe's affinity with the Law of Dimming reached 100%, its user might be able to wield the Law of Decay at 90% efficiency. That was an extraordinary synergy—far better than the vast majority of weapons, which often had zero affinity with the Death Path in any form.

<People do fear the Death Path,> the fairy replied, her voice slightly colder now. <But that's not the only reason. Didn't you catch what was said during the introduction? Some among the audience actually remembered the scythe. That's because it's not the first time it has appeared in an auction. It has surfaced multiple times before—passed from one seller to another like a cursed heirloom.>

<Every living being who used it met a swift, often horrifying end. Even the undead who attempted to wield it were crushed to powder, as if the scythe itself rejected them. People have started to believe that the weapon is cursed. Some even say it holds the will of an ancient spirit who refuses to be tamed.>

She lowered her voice further, as if sharing a dangerous secret.

<In truth, Lord Morval only raised the starting bid to 2.5 million because he noticed Lord Dearth's presence. He assumed the scythe might finally find a buyer today. Otherwise, he would have dropped the starting price to a mere million, perhaps even less.>

…After nearly a full minute passed in suffocating silence following the first bid, Lord Morval finally opened his eyes and extended a hand toward Lord Dearth.

"If there are no other offers… then it seems we have our win—"

"I want it," came a sudden voice, sharp and clear. "Three million pearls."