Lord of the Truth

Somewhere in the Mid-Sector 99 —

DSSSHHHH—

A colossal warship pierced through the haze of the dying atmosphere, its metallic hull groaning as it adjusted its angle. Slowly, its one and only cannon—a monstrous barrel the size of a building—began to rotate, locking in on a single fixed point somewhere on the ruined ground below. The barrel flickered. Then it began to glow.

CRACK... CRACK...

Energy swirled violently into the cannon's mouth, coalescing into a sphere of searing light. As the weapon charged, several figures suddenly broke formation from the war-scarred earth beneath the ship. They were fast—shadows darting between debris—wielding weapons that shimmered with ancient power, hoping to strike first.

But WHOOSH!

Dozens of smaller turrets along the ship's hull activated simultaneously, intercepting their attacks midair with brutal precision. The retaliation came instantly—beams of blue and red light erupted from the turrets, sending explosions dancing across the ground, forcing the assailants to scatter like ants caught in flame.

CRACK—!

At last, after nearly a full minute of buildup, the cannon's light stabilized. The vibrations stopped. Silence reigned—for one breathless heartbeat—

Then it fired.

BOOOOOOOOOOM!

The world beneath trembled.

A blinding beam of devastation shot down from the heavens and consumed the target. What little remained of the broken city was obliterated entirely. In mere seconds, it turned to ash, leaving behind only a crater of molten glass.

"YEEEAAAAAH!!"

Cheers erupted inside the massive warship. Soldiers and crew alike, packed into steel halls and observation decks, raised their fists and shouted with elation. For them, it was a flawless execution—pure military glory.

But that joy... was short-lived.

A deep voice thundered across the sky, drowning out every celebration.

"Hmph… You bring these oversized toys to a planetary battlefield? Ridiculous. Utter foolishness."

Without warning, a figure appeared.

Floating calmly in front of the cannon's still-smoking mouth, he hovered in the air with effortless grace. One hand folded behind his back. The other… slowly raised.

Then—he waved.

CRACK!

The cannon twisted. Groaned. Metal shrieked. It bent backward—against all logic—and aimed itself… at the ship that birthed it.

Then, once more—

BOOOOOOOM!

The warship exploded from within. Fire and fury ripped through its core. Its reinforced walls crumbled, bulkheads twisted, internal reactors went critical. The ship collapsed in on itself, compressing under the sheer force of its own destruction—until it became nothing more than a hunk of smoldering steel. A mangled sphere of metal... bleeding molten blood.

The floating figure sneered.

"Hmph."

With one final glance to ensure not a single soul survived, he flung the remains aside like a broken toy and turned his attention elsewhere.

New figures were approaching—soldiers in uniform, yes—but not of the same faction as the ship. Another force. Another color. Another symbol.

And yet… they too would fall.

Step. Step.

On the peak of one of the last standing mountains, high above the battlefield, a man stood still. He wore a shimmering sky-blue battle armor, majestic in form yet terrifying in detail. Twin horns curled from either side of his head, like those of a mythic bull. His white hair flowed freely behind him, untouched by the wind.

He took a few calm steps forward, then stopped at the cliff's edge.

He crossed his arms.

And he watched.

The valley below was chaos incarnate. Explosions. Roars. Blades meeting beams. Fires consuming forests.

Dozens of factions, all clashing at once—different races, banners, and battle tactics, all tangled in one massive brawl.

To the untrained eye, it might look like madness.

But to this man… it was something worse.

"A tournament of wars, I see." he muttered to himself.

For a whole hour, he stood unmoving—studying the patterns, measuring the madness. Then, at last, he sighed.

His voice was quiet, almost sad.

"Leonid… this isn't funny in the slightest."

"No joke here, unfortunately,"

A younger voice responded from behind.

From the shadows, a youth stepped forth—barely in his twenties, yet bearing the calm poise of someone far older.

"This is your starting point, Supreme General."

He paused, then added, "Shall I inform His Highness Theo that you're considering withdrawal?"

"You've earned this, haven't you? You fought for it. Conquered hundreds of planets in Young Sector 99. You proved your readiness. And now—when it's finally time—you hesitate?"

The horned man didn't reply at first. Then:

"It's not fair," he said quietly, shaking his head.

"His Highness Caesar began his battle with a single empire—and his war was protected by another. Peaceful expansion, clean and clear.

And I'm expected to start here? In this madness?"

He pointed below.

"I've counted nine different powers on this one planet already."

"The First Supreme General, His Royal Highness Caesar, is currently battling professional, highly evolved military forces—armies that have expanded in both size and technological sophistication over the span of millions of years," Leonid replied coolly, his tone sharp and devoid of emotion.

"And not just that—they're fighting on their own home turf. Every trench, every cliff, every shadow there belongs to them."

He paused for emphasis, letting the silence underline his next words.

"You, however… will be engaging fragmented noble families, opportunistic pirate fleets, and a fledgling empire that's expanding too quickly for its own good. None of them hold any ancestral claim to this planet. No legacy. No spiritual roots. And while it's true their combined forces may seem larger, in reality… they're disorganized. Splintered. Divided by greed and distrust."

Leonid narrowed his eyes slightly.

"You can face them one by one, dismantle them piece by piece. And that—if memory serves me right—is exactly what you excel at, isn't it, Third Supreme General Aro?"

A faint wind blew between them as Aro remained silent, processing the comparison.

Leonid continued, this time with a colder tone:

"Secondly... His Royal Highness Caesar was only able to begin his campaign under the protection of the Nine Paths Empire. He had to accept their chains, their politics, their restrictions—all because, at the time, we had no World Cataclysms to offer him as backup."

"But now... things are different."

"You will be backed by three World Cataclysms, all sworn into service—three beings of unspeakable power, bound to you as personal bodyguards. For the level of resistance you're about to face, that's more than enough. Some might even say it's overkill."

"Even so…" Aro tilted his head, just slightly—but his gaze remained locked on the battlefield.

There was something about Leonid's tone that didn't sit right with him.

Leonid spoke as if the opposing forces were mere rabble—vagabonds and mercenaries playing war.

But Aro could see the truth from where he stood.

The opposing armies had structure. Discipline. Fleet coordination. Matching uniforms. Unified battle formations. These weren't scattered bandits—they were factions, possibly proto-empires with the will and force to rise.

And the so-called "chaos"?

That was just the surface.

As for the three World Cataclysms ...

Aro had already identified seven different beings with the aura and battlefield presence of World Cataclysms —and that was only in the portion of the warzone he could currently see. What about the rest of the planet? How many more lurked beyond the ridge, waiting for their moment?

"Heh~" Aro finally smirked and nodded once. "Very well. I accept the assignment."

His voice was calm, but there was an edge of fire beneath the surface.

"Give me the full briefing."

"Gladly." Leonid nodded, then turned to the eastern sky as if recalling ancient bloodlines.

"This planet was once part of a sovereign realm known as The Ancestar Blood Empire—a minor but proud multiple planetary empire that controlled seventeen worlds. That empire, however, was eradicated by the Imperial Guard nearly seventy years ago, crushed in a single, glorious purge. Since that day, the empire has existed only in memory. Their homeworlds have become battlegrounds—shattered, unclaimed, and drenched in endless war."

His eyes narrowed, and his voice dropped to something near a whisper:

"Ten of their worlds have already fallen to various forces. Seven remain. And your task… is to claim them all."

"Bring them under your dominion as swiftly as possible. Crush the resistance. Cleanse the instability. When you're finished, we will provide you with a ceremonial puppet—someone to crown as the planetary emperor over these lands in name only. The real power, of course… will be yours."

"Our Imperial Guards are the ones who did this?" Aro raised an eyebrow and then smiled, "Well that's what I expected from those monsters, I don't know if I should be reassured or worried that they're deployed in the same sector as me…"

Then he paused—something clicked in his memory.

"Wait. The original planetary emperor here—he must've been incredibly powerful. A ruler of seventeen worlds? How did you manage to kill him?"

"We didn't."

Leonid's response was immediate, sharp.

"The emperor went mad."

"After the devastation wrought by the Imperial Guard, he lost all sense. He abandoned his throne and fled into the void, howling with rage. Now, he roams the stars like a rabid beast, hunting down the Imperial Guards who work under the name of a group known as The Black Wasps. He's already managed to kill two of them."

Leonid took a breath.

"But worry not. His rampage won't last much longer. We will hunt him down soon enough."

"...."

Aro didn't respond immediately. Instead, he turned back toward the valley and watched the chaos below with narrowed eyes, studying every detail with the precision of a grandmaster.

After several long, silent minutes—he finally nodded. Then he clapped his hands once, sharp and clear.

"Alright then. Time to put everything we've trained for… into action. Let's see how well we perform against living, breathing monsters."

BZZZT BZZZT BZZZT BZZZT!

Suddenly, dozens of instant-space portals began to open, one after another, at the base of the mountain.

The sound alone was unnatural—like ripping the skin of the universe open with bare hands.

Immediately, every soldier from every faction below turned their gaze upward. All hostilities paused for the briefest moment.

These gates were unlike anything they had ever seen.

Unfamiliar design. Unrecognizable power signature. Movement patterns that defied logic.

And then—

"What... the hell... is that?!" one of the pirate captains gasped, stumbling backward.

BOOOOOF—!

From each portal, a single figure emerged.

Each one was different.

Different race. Different physique. Different aura.

But each warrior walked with the same posture—spine straight, eyes cold, steps measured.

And each one let out a long, ringing war cry, their voices echoing across the battlefield like the toll of judgment.

Then they stepped aside.

The real military operation had only just begun.