Lord of the Truth

<Five billion Energy Pearls.>

"........."

That number didn't just echo across the auction hall—it shattered it. It descended like divine lightning upon the heads of every seated noble, burning itself into the minds of all who saw it.

Eyes turned.

Breaths halted.

A silence thicker than stone filled the air.

"Heavens above… no, this… this is unreal!"

"Five billion for a fourth-tier displacement gear?! Are we dreaming?"

"S-rank artifacts are rare, but they never touch this price… even the SS-rank relics from primordial vaults don't fetch that much!"

"Did the energy pearls market value collapse while I was meditating in seclusion?!"

Even Lord Morval, the auction's master, a man known for his unwavering composure and ancient presence, could no longer maintain a calm facade. His neck creaked as he looked upward at the glowing number.

In truth, the Soul Society was not fueled by auction tickets or entrance fees. Those were mere embers compared to the fuel needed to keep such a structure alive. The society's operations consumed oceans of energy, its staff numbered in the millions, and all of them needed compensation worthy of their roles.

But the true goldmine lay not in those things.

No—the real income came from commissions.

And this particular bid… this single item… this one exchange… would net the Soul Society a commission of nearly one billion energy pearls.

Even mighty Millennial Empires would bleed if that sum were extracted from their coffers.

Lord Zarion's brows tightened like two blades of iron pressing against his skull. For a long breath, he said nothing—just stared at the number in dread and recognition.

Only now did he realize the truth.

The bidder on Cloud 100 wasn't trying to insult Hedrick.

Nor was he aligning with Zarion or any other force.

He truly—desperately—wanted the planetary displacement tool.

But who was he?

Who had access to such devastating wealth, yet remained a phantom?

Lord Hedrick turned to face Cloud 100. His sharp gaze lingered for a heartbeat. Two. Three. Then he nodded—slow and cold—and turned back to the screen.

He lifted one hand high into the air…

And with thunder in his voice, declared:

"Five and a half billion energy pearls!"

"This..!!"

The word tore from thousands of mouths like a single scream.

Even the Empress Renara, the ever-stoic Elinor, and the rest of the kings and Emperors of their level leapt to their feet in disbelief.

An increase of half a billion in one breath?

"For fuck sake…"

Robin clutched his forehead with both hands. His soul trembled.

"Why? Why is it always the Distra family?! Do they never retreat? Do they not understand restraint? What the hell were they fed as infants?!"

<Lord Human, please… I believe this is the time to reconsider. There will always be other opportunities. This isn't worth it.>

Even the spirit fairy, who stood to gain a substantial commission herself, couldn't hide her concern.

She felt as though a meteor of pressure had landed on her shoulders. The tension in the hall, the heat of titanic wealth clashing—none of it boded well.

But Robin… didn't even look at her.

He ignored her like a phantom breeze and opened his Balance Tab.

His gaze darkened.

The number displayed:

<17.2 billion energy pearls.>

This wasn't just a balance.

This was his legacy.

The condensed, beating heart of one hundred and seventy years of effort.

Countless transactions, sleepless nights, endless research.

A life of relentless drive. Of never pausing. Of chasing progress while others rested.

Yes, the number still ticked upward, little by little. Each sale from his products across the Mid Belt added another drop to the pool.

But the golden moment of initial release—when his matrices first went public, when his techniques stunned the markets—that wave had already crested.

To see another number like this?

Unlikely.

It would take starting over, building again, creating and selling without pause, day and night, across another century.

But he had no time.

"What to do... what can I possibly do in this situation?"

Robin muttered under his breath, the anxiety gnawing at him like a ravenous beast. His body swayed forward and back in small, tense motions, trying to ground himself.

"This isn't the first time I've dealt with people like him," he continued, eyes flickering with frustration. "I know their tactics. I know how far they'll go. Even if I place another bid now, he'll push the price higher, no matter the cost. Even if it means emptying the entire vaults of his empire—he won't stop."

He clenched his jaw, voice nearly a growl.

"Even if I bid ten billion and drain my carefully hoarded wealth—the same wealth I've been saving for the future—he might just throw in entire star systems from his empire in his bid. That's the madness of men like him."

Robin's breath caught in his throat. His mind raced to calculate, to strategize, to outmaneuver—yet the options narrowed with every second.

"There's still one last play…"

His voice dropped to a whisper.

"If I offer fifteen billion I could destroy the auction entirely. No one can match that. Not even him. Not without offering an entire imperial dominion. But…"

He turned his gaze to the far side of the hall.

There sat Lord Hedrick—unmoving, statuesque, composed to a terrifying degree. His eyes were still, yet deep—like a bottomless abyss. A calm surface masking a storm that could shatter worlds.

"…What happens when he finds out I'm the one who outbid him?"

Robin's fingers trembled as he imagined the future—the final chance for his planet, Nihari, to rise to the Mid Belt.

Seven hundred and thirty years from now. That's when the alignment would come. That's when Nihari and a hundred other planet in its orbit would ascend.

But when that moment arrives, and the presence of a displacement gear is discovered there… every faction, every lord, every rival, will know.

And Lord Hedrick—humiliated, wounded in pride, and fueled by vengeance—will come like a reaping blade.

"So what do I choose? Take the tool and wait for an enemy whose wrath could drown stars… Or walk away, pray for a second chance elsewhere, and avoid a future built on fear?"

Robin gripped his head with both hands, sweat now visibly forming on his brow.

Across the auction arena, a sharp crack echoed faintly.

Lord Zarion, until now silent and still, grimaced with growing fury.

His patience had burned out.

5.5 billion? That was beyond reason for a displacement gear.

He wouldn't go a coin further.

With a sneer, he bared his fangs in anger, his voice laced with cold mockery:

"Enjoy it while you can, Hedrick. We'll see if your precious little planet even makes it to the Mid Belt. I doubt it will."

Without blinking, Hedrick raised his chin and responded with quiet steel:

"We shall see."

About forty seconds passed. Silence gripped the hall like a vice.

Lord Morval exhaled a heavy breath, raised his hand toward Hedrick, and spoke to the crowd:

"It appears there are no further bids. In that case, the item shall go to—"

<5.6 billion pearls.>

The number materialized in front of everyone.

Time froze.

Lord Morval lowered his hand again, his face betraying mild irritation.

This auction… was far from over.

"HAHAHAHAHA!"

Lord Zarion erupted in laughter, his voice echoing through the vast chamber like a thunderclap. He was ecstatic. Fate was still playing in his favor.

On the other hand, a soft crack came from Lord Hedrick's direction.

His fists had tightened so hard that his knuckles popped like gunshots.

He opened his mouth, breath held, ready to deliver another soul-crushing bid—

Until a voice cut through the silence.

"Lord Hedrick, please… I ask that you wait just a moment. Perhaps we can find a solution that benefits us both."

Hedrick turned slowly, like a predator locking onto a challenger.

"Hmm?" His voice carried an edge like a drawn sword. His gaze narrowed toward Cloud Number 100.

"There are no deals with enemies," he declared, cold and resolute. "No words from your lips will make me give up the displacement tool. If you want it—then be ready to bleed for it."

His eyes sharpened like a viper's.

"I don't know who you are, but I know people—people who can find out. Whether I win or lose today, whether you're a hidden monster from a forgotten age, or even a Behemoth…"

"I will come for you."

"There's no need to trouble anyone to find out about me."

A ripple of energy swept through Cloud 100.

The mist began to part, evaporating like fog under a rising sun.

And from within stepped a figure cloaked in mystery.

A long black cloak trailed behind him, with a deep hood concealing most of his form. Upon his face, a metallic mask, emotionless and cold. His voice, calm and gentle:

"I am nothing but a simple human. A human who seeks no grudge, and harbors no hatred."

Hedrick's brow furrowed ever so slightly.

Removing the cloud's veil meant little—the Soul Society's anonymity protocols still cloaked this person's identity.

But something about him… something intangible… tickled Hedrick's instinct.

He narrowed his eyes and summoned the control panel with a blink.

The identity scan flashed.

His pupils slowly returned to the man behind Cloud 100.

"…Human, huh?"