Lord of the Truth

The dialogue box displayed:

/Lord Hedric is online and requesting a direct meeting. Do you accept?/

"What?!" Robin's eyes widened to their limit, his expression a mix of shock and disbelief.

<You're in luck, Lord Human,> the fairy chirped, doing a slow circle around his head. <It seems Lord Hedric was already present in the Soul Society when your message was received. That means, if you so choose, you can face him directly. Right now.>

"Lucky? Lucky?!" Robin slapped his thigh in disbelief. Just minutes ago—no, seconds ago—he had been muttering prayers under his breath, wishing to go another few centuries without hearing from Hedric. And now, the universe had answered… in the worst possible way.

<You seem unsettled.> The fairy tilted her tiny glowing form. <But it's alright. You're under no obligation. You can reject the call outright, or simply ignore the connection until he cancels it himself. The Soul Society gives you total freedom.>

"'Total freedom,' huh?" Robin muttered bitterly, clenching his teeth. "There's no such thing as total freedom. Every decision carves out its consequences."

His mind was racing now, biting lightly at the edge of his index finger. What was the right move here? Should he just ignore Hedric? But that felt reckless. He'd just sent a reply—Hedric surely knew he was online. Ignoring the meeting now would seem intentional, disrespectful even. Not a wise move if he was trying to maintain even a semblance of neutrality between them.

But… what if he accepted the meeting, only to find Hedric in a bad mood, barking demands? What if he insisted on receiving the Planetary Displacement Gear immediately—or worse, started throwing around absurd conditions like his sister had done before? Robin didn't need that kind of pressure right now, especially not when his plans were only just gaining momentum.

He continued to stare at the flashing message:

/Lord Hedric is requesting a direct meeting. Do you accept?/

It felt like entire eras were passing as the words blinked before his eyes, though in truth… only six seconds had ticked by.

Finally, with a long sigh and a resigned hand wave, Robin muttered, "Accept the request."

If he was going to be forced into a corner either way, he'd rather do it on his own terms—with his own excuses and escape routes. Ignoring Hedric entirely just wasn't an option.

The message box shimmered and changed color—earthy brown now—and displayed a new prompt:

/Preparing meeting space according to the caller's request/

"Preparing… what does that even me—" Robin raised a brow, confused.

Fwoooosh!

He didn't have to finish the question. The answer arrived before the sentence could leave his mouth.

The countdown hit zero, and instantly, the world around him shifted in a breathtaking rush.

Gone was the babbling stream and the towering waterfall he had been resting beside. Now, he was seated on a thick, impossibly soft cloud—like a dense cushion of cotton floating high in the sky. Above him stretched an endless blue dome, streaked with brushstrokes of orange and pink. In the distance, the sun was slowly setting, painting the sky with a warm, golden-red hue that bled through the remaining clouds like fire through silk.

It was a breathtaking scene… and yet it did nothing to ease the tension in his chest.

Then a voice, smooth and composed, cut through the silence like wind across silk.

"I thought it fitting we meet on the clouds—just as we did the first time. I felt it only right to complete our last meeting properly. After all... it didn't quite end as it should have, wouldn't you agree?"

Robin turned his head sharply to the side, his posture straightening instinctively.

There, seated comfortably on a neighboring cloud, was a man with shoulder-length white hair that partially veiled one eye, and a beard trimmed with perfect care. His features were serene—almost too serene for the situation—and his presence exuded a quiet, unshakable authority. He sat not like a guest, but like a monarch in full command of his realm.

"Lord Hedric," Robin greeted, offering a respectful nod. He forced himself to remain composed, projecting strength—not arrogance, not submission. Just enough presence to remind Hedric who he was dealing with.

"You're quite the elusive man, Lord Robin," Hedric said, his lips curving ever so slightly into a smile. "Tell me—are all Great Truth Chosen so difficult to track down? Or was there some quiet grudge keeping you from this meeting all along?"

"There is no grudge between myself and Lord Hedric," Robin replied smoothly. "In fact, I owe you some thanks. If you hadn't withdrawn from the auction for the Planetary Displacement Gear, I would've paid far more than I did. And if you hadn't driven up the price during the Breath of Ages auction with that aggressive bid, I wouldn't have earned as much as I did. In both cases, your involvement helped me greatly. I am, in truth, grateful."

Again, Robin offered a calm, measured nod.

"...."

Hedric turned away slightly, his eyes settling on the radiant sunset stretched before them.

"I won't accept thanks for either," he said at last, voice quieter now. "It was all a matter of resources, nothing more. Had I possessed enough Pearls, I'd have taken the planetary displacement gear—no matter the cost. Do you think I let you win it so I could borrow it from you later and save a few billion? That's not who I am. I don't borrow things."

He turned slightly, his eye now catching Robin's directly.

"Just hearing your message—where you said you'd only hand it over under this condition or that—it nearly killed me. But... alas. Fate has not been kind to me lately."

"..."

Robin stared at the man beside him for a few long seconds, studying his calm expression, before finally turning to gaze forward himself.

"We've all endured such trials, Lord Hedric. You've no reason to feel ashamed. In times of war, everything burns—the fertile and the barren alike."

"Oh?" Hedric raised an eyebrow, a subtle smile tugging at his lips. "Would that 'war' you're referring to be your little skirmish with my younger sister?"

Robin turned to him abruptly, his eyes widening in surprise—but not panic. His lips curled into a faint, almost mischievous smile.

"...Your younger sister is a formidable opponent. I crushed her forces without much issue—but I lost, utterly, to her resolve. I was overwhelmed. I had to unleash some of the bigger weapons just to survive."

There was an unmistakable edge in Robin's voice. Every word was calculated. He was reminding Hedric—clearly—that whatever had happened between him and Helen was no card to be played lightly. If Hedric had any idea of using that prior conflict as leverage, it would be better left untouched.

Still, Hedric's smile didn't falter.

"Hmm. Then I suppose it's fortunate the 'big weapons' were merciful enough to send Helen back to her room on Destruction Pit Planet. That scene—it was strangely moving. Be sure to pass on my thanks."

"No need. He's probably forgotten about it already—it was a small matter." Robin replied smoothly, a courteous grin on his face. Once again, he cut off any further probing with elegant finality.

Hedric noted the deflection and chuckled softly.

"Hmm. I suppose you're right."

"..."

The conversation stalled. Silence hung in the air between them, thick and heavy—but not uncomfortable. Robin returned to watching the horizon, letting the warm hues of the sunset dance across his eyes. The golden-red sunlight bathed the soft clouds beneath them like a painter's brush. Minutes passed.

Eventually, it was Robin who surrendered in the unspoken contest of patience.

"You've reached out twice now, requesting a conversation about our agreement. I'd like to understand the full scope of it—finally. I believe I was quite clear about the terms under which the Planetary Displacement Gear could be lent. And since you know Nihari, you should understand just how crucial that artifact is to me as well."

"...Truthfully," Hedric began, his voice growing low, tone steeped in gravity, "when I first contacted you, my intentions were straightforward. I simply wanted to learn more about you—perhaps share the projected timeline for Verilion's Galactic Seed ascension, and negotiate terms. But circumstances have changed... dramatically."

His demeanor, calm until now, shifted. His brows knit together in concern.

"Back at that auction, I still had seven billion Pearls to play with—enough wealth to posture and pretend I had control over things. Now? I'm down to less than three. Everything I had was funneled into the war effort—purchasing weapons, summoning legends, securing planetary-grade gear to protect Verilion. It's all gone into the fire."

"..."

Robin didn't flinch. Those numbers were astronomical, but he didn't bat an eye. He understood perfectly well. If Nihari were under threat, he'd spend ten times that amount without hesitation. A Galactic Seed wasn't just an artifact—it was a future throne, a symbol of destiny, an anchor of power.

But even with that understanding... he couldn't help but ask the question echoing in his mind.

Why is this my burden to bear?

With the sharp precision of a blade drawn in silence, Robin spoke:

"That's unfortunate, truly. I've heard about the scale of the conflict. It's enormous. But what exactly does that have to do with our agreement? Or this meeting now?"

Hedric tapped his fingers twice against the plush, cloudlike armrest beneath him.

"In all honesty, Lord Robin," he said, his voice measured, "I asked you here today because I'm hoping you'll give me the Planetary Displacement Gear. Not as a loan. But as a permanent gift."

"...."

Robin slowly turned his head toward him, disbelief etched across his features. His voice, when it came, was cold and deliberate: "Excuse me?!"