Lord of the Truth

"...The agreement will be simple: you protect Nihari, and I'll protect Virillion."

"...?"

Hedrick's brows drew together in a sharp knot, a flash of confusion—and perhaps disbelief—passing over his face.

"You protecting my Virillion? Are you serious?"

Robin nodded without hesitation.

"Dead serious. Your biggest issue right now is your inability to protect Virillion the way it should be protected.

You and your generals, your elites... you're all locked out of the battlefield that matters most.

The only thing you can do is guard it from orbit, like an outsider looking in.

But your enemies? They're exploiting portals, smuggling fleets, sneaking strike teams past your outer defenses.

They're already deep inside the planet, raiding the heart of the Shattering Meteor Empire.

They might even be preparing to breach the planetary core and bring about total destruction."

Robin's tone remained calm, yet the weight behind his words was growing.

"But once that planet shifts into Mid-Sector 101, everything changes.

Your true armies can finally set foot on your own soil.

You'll be able to enter personally, bring your full force into play.

And just by being there, every enemy you face will pause—think twice—before making a move against you.

At that point, your only threat will be the Radiant Galaxy. And even then, you can negotiate with them.

Promise a quick extraction of the seed.

Or, if diplomacy fails... deal with them on your terms, you are still a mighty Monarch of the path of destruction."

He lifted a shoulder in a faint, confident shrug.

"That transition will happen in... what, 2,500 years?

By then, I'll likely have less use for the planetary displacement gear.

You could purchase it from me then. Or perhaps we'll both find a fifth-grade set by that time.

It's not an impossible dream.

2,500 years is a long stretch. Longer than most empires survive."

"Aha..."

Hedrick tilted his chin upward slightly. The crimson glow in his eyes deepened, like rubies blazing in the shadow of a dying star.

"I see. So your offer is: you'll defend my galactic seed for 2,500 years—or until it enters Mid Sector 101. That's the full deal?"

"Exactly that." Robin gave a slight, composed nod, a trace of a smile curling at the corner of his lips.

But Hedrick didn't smile. Not even close.

In fact, his expression darkened.

"So let me get this straight..."

He leaned forward slightly, his voice tightening.

"You're saying you—a single man—believe you can protect a galaxy seed located in a completely different sector, far from your domain, better than the Shattering Meteor Empire can?

An empire with 2,300 planetary holdings... an army strong enough to dominate them all... and the kind of firepower that could wipe out most young sectors if unleashed in full?"

"Exactly." Robin repeated, without a flicker of hesitation.

"....."

Hedrick stared at him in silence. For a moment, the tension in the hole thickened, as if time itself had paused.

Then, slowly—very slowly—Hedrick turned his face away, as though physically restraining himself from exploding in laughter or rage.

He drew in a long breath.

"And how..." he began, almost whispering,

"...how do you possibly imagine you can accomplish such a thing?"

Right now, Hedrick felt like he was trying to have a serious conversation with a delusional child.

Robin's words sounded less like a military strategy and more like the bedtime fantasy of a madman.

It was as if a toddler had just told him that the moon was made of cheese—and expected him to take it seriously.

How in the name of all reason was he supposed to process this?

Robin wanted to send an army to defend Virillion from the inside?

Was he implying that this was something the Shattering Meteor Empire—the pinnacle of power in the Young Belt—had failed to do?

That empire had ruled for eons.

They had amassed a mountain of devastating technologies.

They had entire divisions armed with Destruction Laws and battle doctrines honed over thousands of planetary wars.

They had manpower that dwarfed entire alliances.

And even they were barely holding on.

And yet Robin thought a handful of elite warriors from another young empire, however skilled, could succeed where the titans had failed?

Earlier, Robin had said that convincing Hedrick's sister to join was his problem.

Now, this insane offer... was Robin's problem.

"Very well," Robin said, pointing to himself firmly. His voice was calm but filled with iron certainty.

"If we finalize this agreement today, I give you my word: Virillion will not fall from within before its ascension.

That's my promise.

And in exchange, you swear to commit everything you have to the defense of Nihari, once it enters Mid-Sector 99."

"...."

Hedrick now rubbed at his forehead with a mix of exhaustion and disbelief.

"Come on now, show a little trust!" Robin said with a short laugh. "My forces aren't to be underestimated. They may not be vast in number—but they do hit like hell."

"Trust what, exactly?"

Hedrick's voice remained composed, but the tension was palpable—each word layered with quiet frustration.

"In your war against the Great Serpent Empire, every single one of your planets was overrun and left in ruin. The only reason you emerged victorious in the end was because of a personal duel—you, defeating their leader one-on-one. And that leader was nothing but a second-rate warlord from a fledgling empire, barely scratching ten thousand years of history."

He inhaled slowly, forcing himself to remain civil, as if the sheer absurdity of the conversation was beginning to wear on his patience.

"And now, you're suggesting that in just four centuries, you've not only recovered from that... but risen above a millennial, war-hardened empire like the Shattering Meteor Empire? By a wide margin, no less? And all it takes is a small group of soldiers from your side to do what my empire could not?"

His tone dipped lower, colder.

"Does that sound reasonable to you? Because to me, it sounds like the delusion of a man trying to sell a miracle he doesn't have."

Robin, ever unfazed, simply gave a casual wave.

"You may not believe it now. That's fine.

But in due time, you will. The truth doesn't need belief—it proves itself."

He folded his arms behind his back, his steps calm, his voice steady.

"The distance between Young Sector 100 and Young Sector 101 can vary between one to three years, depending on which void channels are active, and how many spatial storms are raging across the paths.

So, at most, it'll take my troops three years to arrive. That's your worst-case scenario."

He turned slightly to glance at Hedrick.

"And when they do arrive, you'll see their work.

If the results don't satisfy you... well, then you can yell at me to your heart's content."

"What would that accomplish?" Hedrick asked, now clearly exasperated, locking eyes with Robin.

Robin grinned, letting out a short, mocking laugh.

"I'll get so scared from your scolding, I'll mail you the fourth-grade displacement gear just to make it stop—hah!"

Hedrick didn't laugh.

He simply went quiet again, narrowing his eyes ever so slightly.

Robin took another step forward.

"You're willing to gamble your entire galaxy seed on a displacement gear that has only a 50% success rate...

But not willing to gamble three years?"

There was a long pause.

Then, finally, Hedrick nodded—once, twice.

"...Fine. Three years."

His voice was cool but firm.

"If the unit you send fails—either by death, incompetence, or failing to make any noticeable improvement beyond the current state—then you will send me the fourth-stage planetary displacement gear.

And in return, I'll send you the Nine planetary displacement gears I have so we can initiate the preliminary transaction."

"Deal."

Robin clapped his hands together once, the sound echoing like a starting bell.

He stepped closer, extended his hand toward Hedrick with a smile brimming with confidence.

"Then let this be a partnership recorded in the annals of time!"

Hedrick nodded slowly, then rose to his feet and clasped Robin's hand.

"Let it be a partnership... remembered by the ages."

There were no binding soul contracts.

No divine seals, no laws invoked to force either of them to honor their words.

Just a handshake.

A single, solemn handshake between a man on the path to becoming a Great Truth Chosen,

And another on the brink of becoming a Behemoth of Destruction.

Robin exhaled softly, then gave a respectful nod.

"I look forward to seeing what this alliance brings us.

I'm confident that sooner rather than later... both of us will be lords of galaxies bearing our names."

He attempted to withdraw his hand—but paused.

Hedrick was still gripping it, just slightly.

He raised his gaze to find Hedrick watching him, eyes half-hidden beneath silver strands, glowing faintly like hell-born rubies.

And with the same calm voice, Hedrick spoke.

"Since we're partners now, allow me to drop the formalities.

I assume it's acceptable if I address you simply as Robin?"

Robin hesitated for a second, then nodded.

"...I don't mind, Hedrick."

Only then did Hedrick release his hand.

But in the same movement, he placed a firm hand behind Robin's back, nudging him forward gently—so the two walked side by side.

The crimson clouds of the dying horizon stretched ahead of them, glowing like blood-soaked silk.

"Good," Hedrick murmured, almost affectionately.

"Then tell me, Robin... have you ever seen a true cosmic war with your own eyes?"