Lord of the Truth

While the stands below were ablaze with uproar and murmurs, the crowd behaved as though they were witnessing the theatrical climax of the millennium—and who could blame them? It was a once-in-a-lifetime moment. They rarely saw lords of such terrifying renown standing on the same battlefield, much less clashing with threats and history-bending revelations like this!

"...."

Up above, the Cloud Dwellers stood in silent vigilance, the air around them thick with tension. Every faction, every guest from a distant system, now understood that what was happening here would ripple far beyond a simple auction. Even the General Dearth had turned his gaze toward Robin, his eyelid-less eyes Shined, every muscle coiled, watching—waiting.

Human had openly insulted Lord Hedrick's sister with cutting words, and what's more, his tone carried no subtlety—it was a blatant challenge. That alone should have signed his death sentence. After all, Hedrick was a man who had once erased entire civilizations over minor slights, over disrespect whispered behind closed doors. And now? Robin had confronted him face-to-face, in front of all the cosmos' eyes.

Worse yet, Hedrick had responded with an unveiled threat of his own—declaring he knew Human's true identity. The very Human who had revolutionized the Mid-Belt in less than a century, distributing world-shifting techniques like candy, changing the power balance across multiple empires. Hedrick himself had called him a candidate for the next Great Truth-Chosen!

"…!?"

Even Lord Zarion, whose laughter had moments ago rung like madness across the clouds, froze mid-chuckle. His eyes narrowed. His smile faltered. When he heard the depth of the feud between Destra and Human, even he—who thrived on chaos—chose silence.

Human did something to Helen?

The youngest daughter of the Destra family?!

Even Zarion wouldn't dare cross that line—there were some taboos even madness wouldn't touch.

"Astounding."

A sharp smile spread across Lord Hedrick's face—slow, predatory. His eyes, locked on Robin, sharpened to daggers of light. It was as if he were trying to dissect Robin down to the atom with pure will alone.

"I've heard many things about you—your arrogance, your detachment from reality, your tendency to treat diplomacy like street brawls, and your violent flares under pressure… My sister warned me. I told her not to exaggerate. But now, I see she may have underplayed the impulsiveness you represent."

Robin didn't flinch. Instead, he raised his voice, sweeping a hand through the air as if throwing off invisible chains.

"I tried—multiple times—to resolve matters peacefully with her. I swallowed my pride. I extended the olive branch, more than once."

He pointed at Hedrick, posture unbending.

"And you—I greeted you as a lord. I gave you the highest courtesy I could afford. But you… came at me with veiled threats."

He stood tall, voice now booming like a war drum across the sky.

"What do you want me to do? Crawl to you? Lick your boots and beg for forgiveness like some broken wretch?!"

"I do not kneel to anyone. And anyone who tried to break me in the past should remember exactly how that turned out!"

"The hell… That's Human's real personality?!"

"I always pictured him as some kind old master, quietly trying to help the universe…"

"He's crazier than the Destras!"

"He's completely unhinged! A total lunatic!"

"He's… a pervert!!"

"Hooh~"

Renara exhaled deeply, rubbing her temple. She had seen this version of him before. That fire. That arrogance. That utter lack of self-preservation.

Yes… this was Robin Burton, no doubt about it.

…Before Lord Hedrick could retaliate, Lord Morval—finally sensing that the storm had reached a dangerous peak—stepped forward, hands raised in both caution and command. His tone was urgent, almost pleading.

"Please, noble guests, I ask you all to remain calm. Let us not turn this stage into a battlefield. This is but a simple auction. There is no need to dig up ghosts of the past."

Robin turned slowly, deliberately, to face Lord Morval. Then, as though nothing had happened, he sat down on his cloud seat once more. His back was straight. His voice, when he spoke, was clear and decisive—every syllable intended for every ear.

"I will be taking the Planet Displacement Tool today."

He let that hang for a moment.

"If Lord Hedrick wishes to continue bidding—he may do so.

If he would rather continue our discussion in a private room, perhaps away from the public eye and further… humiliation, then I also welcome that."

The message was loud and unmistakable: Robin would not step back.

Lord Morval sighed heavily. So this was the legendary Human. Not just brilliant. But stubborn and proud enough to dare the Destras to their faces. He turned toward the other side.

"Lord Hedrick… What do you intend to do?"

"...."

For a few silent seconds, Hedrick didn't answer. He stared at Robin as if memorizing every inch of him, committing his voice and posture to some internal archive.

Then, at last, his gaze softened. He turned back to Lord Morval with a faint, almost serene smile.

"Has the one-minute bidding window expired yet?"

"....."

Lord Morval's eyes opened a fraction wider in realization.

Hedrick was giving him—a host—and himself— a way out from this situation.

"The bidding window has officially closed, I'm afraid," he said at last, his voice steady.

Then he turned to the crowd, raising his voice:

"The fourth-grade Planetary Displacement Gear is hereby awarded to Lord Human—for the record-shattering price for an S-class artifact:

5.6 billion energy pearls!"

"Whoaaa!!"

"He really did it! He snatched the Planet Displacement Tool right from under Lord Hedrick and Lord Zarion!!"

"I think all that talking was part of his plan—to distract Lord Hedrick from placing a new bid!"

"Who even is this guy?! He talks like a warlord and bids like an emperor!"

"He's insane! Absolutely insane!!"

"He's a pervert!!"

While the great auction hall erupted in noise, voices clashing in disbelief and excitement like a tidal wave, Lord Morval turned back to Hedrick with the smoothness of a practiced diplomat. He placed his hands formally over his chest and dipped his head slightly.

"We apologize for the abruptness of the announcement, Lord Hedrick, but as you know, the rules are absolute. The final call was made. Better fortune next time."

"..."

Lord Hedrick didn't say a word. His expression was unreadable. Only a subtle nod came in response, but even that held weight. His lips pressed into a thin line, the light in his eyes unreadable, neither rage nor resignation—just deep, calculating silence.

"Congratulations, Lord Human."

"Well played."

"I look forward to what you'll craft from that tool. A miracle, perhaps?"

"Haha! Maybe another one of your infamous mass inventions?"

A wave of congratulatory voices started to rise from the cloud-dwellers. They didn't just admire his win—they were now curious. Interested. Some with genuine excitement, others calculating like snakes sizing up a new predator in the pit. Robin responded with measured nods, his face calm, his posture dignified. Yet between each acknowledgement, his gaze kept returning—momentarily, fleetingly—back to Lord Hedrick.

There was a game still being played.

It hadn't ended.

This was just the opening act.

Why someone as terrifying as Lord Hedrick provoked him, only to withdraw a moment later? Why end it with grace after starting with fire? Was he reconsidering the negotiation option? Or was something darker brewing in that mind of his?

"Hmm… what's this now?"

Robin blinked as a flashing icon on his control panel caught his eye. Curious, he tapped it—only for a long list of names to explode across the screen.

<These are friend requests. Anyone who sees you or knows your public name can send one. Once accepted, you may communicate directly, synchronize visits to halls, share protected channels, and more.>

"There are thousands here… tens of thousands…?"

Robin scrolled through the growing list, eyebrows rising with each passing second.

"Does everyone in this place want to be my friend now? I don't even know 99% of these names!"

<You have been accepted among the elite, Lord Human. Your wealth alone earned their attention. Your confrontation with Lord Hedrick earned their fear—or their curiosity. It is only natural for the tides to rise toward a star that dares to shine against the sun.>

Robin's smile twisted faintly.

"No… this won't do. I want priority classification. Sort them all top-down, highest-value individuals first. Show me the ones who actually matter."

Far off in one of the darker corners of the auction hall...

"…Heh~ Turns out he's not just some loudmouth after all."

A hunched, elderly figure with a dark hound head growled in a low voice, sipping from a bone-colored flask. His tone was dry, but his eyes gleamed with a cautious respect.

"His threat may not have been empty. I thought he was bluffing but it looks like he's backed by something much, much heavier."

Then he added, voice quieter. "I don't know why he thinks so badly of us, obviously there are other people who know him!"

Crack.

A hulking figure beside him, one with jagged, spike-like ridges across his head, crushed the armrest of his seat. His fists were tight enough to glow red from pressure.

"He's nothing but a cash-fed parasite. An empty shell with some genius, sure. But no spine. No roots. No legacy."

"Let him have his moment. Let him play politics and mouth off at monsters. But that fourth-stage threshold…"

His voice dropped to a growl.

"That barrier is where illusions die. I know how steep it is. And no egotistical showman like him will cross it. Not someone who wastes time on speeches, squabbles, and manipulation. He doesn't care about the Truth. He's chasing vanity."

Then he added with eyes sparkling flames, "He will never make a stage-four martial art, array, technique, he will never touch that fourth-stage threshold, he will never be me, You will see.. You will see."