Lord of the Truth

"…And now, allow me to unveil before you all—the Planetary Displacement Tool of the fourth grade!"

Noise… Noise…

In that instant, the entire atmosphere of the grand auction hall changed.

Every single attendee—regardless of power, wealth, or status—snapped their attention toward the stage.

Side whispers fell into silence.

Spiritual projections faded.

The bidding devices froze mid-air.

Even the air seemed to stand still.

A fourth-grade planetary artifact...

This was the moment they had all been waiting for—the climactic centerpiece of the entire auction.

The item rumored to dwarf everything else in value. The myth-turned-reality.

The kind of treasure that rarely appeared even once in a millennium!

It was well-known across the sectors that forging such a piece required a planet at least twenty times the mass of an average world.

But not just size—it had to be a planet saturated with intrinsic affinity to either a essential path of the universe or, even more impressively, one of its fundamental Laws.

And worse still… once a planet is sacrificed in the forging of such an artifact, it doesn't survive intact.

No.

Its spirit falls into slumber.

Its energy deteriorates.

And for tens of thousands of years, it becomes barren, weakened, and comatose—its future uncertain.

That's why such planets—if discovered—are never given up lightly.

They're fortified, turned into crown jewels of empires.

Often, they become the hearts of entire civilizations, guarded by fleets, treated like divine relics.

No empire would dare throw such a world away—unless they had countless others.

Only the mad emperors of the thousand-world dynasties, whose conquests spanned star clusters, could afford to waste one in pursuit of something like this.

FWOOOSH!

As if summoned by prophecy, a flicker of dimensional light shimmered beside Lord Morval.

A materialized construct—floating gracefully in the air.

The embodiment of the artifact.

The audience collectively held their breath.

There it was—suspended beside the legendary auctioneer:

A stake, nearly the length of a grown man's leg, forged from unknown cosmic metals. It radiated an ancient authority—like it had once pierced the heart of a planet itself.

Beside it hovered a hammer, thick and oddly shaped, engraved with sacred runes that pulsed with deep crimson light.

Lord Morval raised a single hand with measured grace and gestured toward the glowing relics.

"Behold…" he said slowly, voice like thunder muffled by velvet,

"The Planetary Displacement Tool of the fourth grade!"

He gave the crowd a beat to absorb the presence of the artifact before continuing,

"Its usage is elegant in its simplicity—for those of you unfamiliar with the art."

"You must journey to the target planet… and there, using the hammer, strike the stake into the ground."

Another pause—then his voice sharpened slightly,

"If that planet is already bound to you—if you have refined it, then with one strike, it will obey.

It will vanish from its orbit and reappear at the destination of your choosing.

Instantly. No delay. No resistance."

"However…" he raised three fingers,

"…if the planet is not your own, then you must perform a sacred ritual."

"Three strikes."

"One strike… every hour."

"With each blow, shockwaves will radiate through every fiber of the world.

These waves serve as a declaration—informing not just the spiritual essence of the planet, but all life that calls it home."

"This is a summoning. A confrontation. A divine negotiation."

Lord Morval's hands clasped behind his back again as he took a step forward.

"Upon the third strike—after three hours—the planetary spirit will appear before the one who called upon it."

"It doesn't matter how old the planet is, or how hidden its will may be, this ritual will force it to answer."

"And at that moment… you speak."

"You explain your intent. You ask it to move. You offer it freedom—or power—or sanctuary."

"If the spirit is unbound—if no empire owns it, if it is alone and free—it will likely agree."

"But," he added, eyes glinting,

**"If it belongs to an empire, things become… complicated.

Its decision will then depend on the nature of its 'bondage.'

Is it loved? Protected? Nurtured?"

"Or…"

"Is it drained? Used as a farm?

Has its population been slaughtered?

Is it marked for destruction?"**

He smiled, slow and deliberate.

"Then that spirit will leap at the chance to escape with you."

A dramatic pause followed.

"And that, my friends, is why the bearer of this artifact…

Can, with cleverness and caution, steal planets from even the most powerful empires—

Without drawing a single drop of blood."

"WHOA!!"

A wave of shocked gasps spread through the crowd like wildfire.

The entire auditorium buzzed with tension.

The implications were terrifying.

Imagine going to bed owning ten worlds—only to wake up with nine.

To most planetary lords, this artifact wasn't just valuable.

It was existentially threatening.

Even Robin, standing silently beside the fairy, narrowed his gaze.

His heart beat faster.

For the first time, he truly understood what this artifact was.

Until now, he'd thought of it as a tool of last resort—an emergency escape plan to evacuate his conquered worlds.

But now?

Now he saw a weapon.

Not a sword of violence—but a dagger of strategy.

A scalpel that could bleed empires dry… one world at a time.

With this, he could relocate any of his occupied planets to cluster near Nihari—his base of power.

Better still…

He could send out his Stellar scouts to search the sector.

When they found desirable planets—free, unbound, or abused—he could simply bring them home.

No conquest.

No battles.

Just whispers… rituals… and movement.

And what planetary spirit would say no to becoming part of an artificial galaxy?

But there was something far more dangerous to consider...

Even a single individual in possession of this artifact could, over time, construct an entire planetary empire from scratch—

Not through diplomacy or war, but through quiet, methodical theft.

Stealing a planet from one place, relocating another from somewhere else,

Positioning them in a remote, unclaimed corner of a sector…

The concept was terrifying. Absolutely spine-chilling.

"…"

Robin slowly turned his gaze toward the Cloud Perchers, those enigmatic figures who had remained silent throughout.

Unsurprisingly, none of them showed even the faintest reaction.

Their expressions were as unreadable as ever, their composure unshaken.

It was obvious—they already knew exactly what this artifact was capable of.

No wonder this piece was granted such grand publicity...

No wonder the event was so heavily monitored and controlled.

Whoever walks out of this place holding that artifact will be walking with a weapon so powerful, so disruptive, that entire star clusters might one day tremble at their name.

Robin's eyes narrowed slightly as he contemplated the implications, his thoughts swirling with unease.

After letting the tension simmer in the hearts of all those present, Lord Morval's voice once again rang out—sharp, clear, and commanding:

"Let the bidding begin at seventy million Energy Pearls!"

"Seventy-one million!"

"Seventy-three million—this one is mine!"

"You fools think we're playing here? I'm offering ninety million straight!"

Robin's eyes flew wide open.

This was unlike any auction he had ever seen or heard of.

It hadn't simply started—

It had ignited.

Exploded into chaos the very instant the price was called.

And unlike previous rounds where numbers crept up by thousands or even hundreds of thousands—

Here, the bids were vaulting upward in leaps of millions.

In a mere sixty seconds, the price had soared to 112 million Energy Pearls—

And not a single decimal point had entered the conversation yet!

It was at that exact moment that Robin's eyes caught a glimmering light flaring from a very familiar seat—

One of the few distinguished VIP platforms in the upper gallery.

"150 million Energy Pearls."

It was Renara.

"Hah... At least she's making the effort," Robin murmured with a half-smile, mildly entertained.

While he didn't know the precise financial might of the Empire of the Nine Paths, he wasn't naïve either.

They were a planetary empire, yes—

But they were also embroiled in numerous wars on multiple battlefronts.

Surely, every planet caught in the flames of war had lost a substantial portion of its life force.

Surely, much of their energy reserves had been consumed in the apocalyptic battles against World Cataclysm.

And without a doubt, both sides were employing scorched-earth tactics, devastating everything in their wake.

So even if they had vaults stretching across hundreds of planets,

Even if their history spanned millions of years,

Robin was certain of one thing:

They wouldn't be able to cross the billion mark.

Not in the middle belt of the universe.

Not under these conditions.

That's just how reality worked.

"170 million!"

"172 million—right here!"

The numbers continued to climb like wildfire, barely seconds between each new bid.

And within the blink of an eye, the light that had marked Renara's seat vanished—

Flickering across the hall from one bidder to the next.

They all knew it deep down.

They had no chance of winning with such modest increases.

But still—they raised their voices.

Maybe for prestige, maybe for pride...

Or perhaps just to say they had once participated in history.

"…Huh?"

From the edge of his vision, Robin finally noticed something—

One of the Cloud Perchers had moved.

Just a subtle lift of the hand, nothing more.

But that small gesture was all it took.

In the very next second, a new number shimmered into existence, glowing above Lord Morval in the center of the hall:

<One. Billion. Energy Pearls>