Lord of the Truth

"A sovereign entity daring to impose fees upon the Dawn Light Stellar Academy? An academy not merely administered, but ruled outright by a Monarch whose word shapes the course of worlds? Althera already wields one of the most profound and immutable Fundamental laws — and now, all she lacks is the acquisition of a single, priceless Galaxy Seed. With that in her grasp, she would not merely rise in influence — she would ascend, transformed into a true Behemoth, a force whose presence could bend the will of civilizations and tip the balance of cosmic order."

Robin's brows tightened, his gaze narrowing as if the very thought unsettled the structure of the conversation. His voice was calm but edged with calculation. "...Perhaps this sovereign entity you speak of is not simply a distant authority or bureaucratic power, but an actual Behemoth— one who reigns only over the Specter Valley planet in Mid Sector 99 with the same unyielding grip that Interas exerts upon his chosen world, all for the sole purpose of hosting the Grand Inter-sector Spatial Gate that links the farthest reaches of known space."

This time, Malik stepped forward, his tone deliberate. "No, Your Majesty. Behemoths and academies are bound by an unspoken equilibrium — they do not engage in direct conflict. Though the galaxies under Behemoths rule boast vast legions and fervent followers, unmatched in sheer military might, while academies maintain no standing armies of their own. Their strength lies in the individuals who lead them, in the arcane mastery of their heads, and in the breadth of their political and mystical alliances. All academies are united under a single, binding pact, forged long ago by an ancient and enigmatic figure whose name is spoken in reverence. By the terms of this pact, they are compelled to send aid to any sister academy under siege, which grants them a voice powerful enough to force even Tyrants to abandon the brink of a cosmic war, to dispatch forces to a beleaguered front in the struggle against the Plague, or to join battle against some catastrophic space beast that has breached a sector and begun sowing devastation."

He allowed the weight of his words to linger before continuing, his voice low and steady. "For this reason, Behemoths, however proud, avoid provoking academies, lest they draw the wrath of the pact's collective strength. And likewise, academies refrain from rousing the ire of Behemoths, for such recklessness could ignite a war that would engulf star systems. While Behemoths may respect the academies' reach, they will never permit them to dictate the course of their rule." Malik paused, letting the silence underscore his point. "Thus, when it is said that a sovereign entity has imposed a decree, a tariff, or any such imposition upon an academy, it is almost never the act of a Behemoths — and it is certainly not the doing of another academy."

"If it is neither, then surely… the Syndicate?!" Robin's brows drew closer still, his eyes sharpening with thought.

"Most likely," Latania replied, her tone tinged with recollection. "In the reckless days of the Imperial Guard's beginnings, before we understood the hidden mechanisms by which the cosmos truly operates, we clashed with them more than once. The causes were varied, but most often it was because our people strayed into forbidden worlds. Some were quietly escorted away; others were assaulted first and cast, bruised and battered, into a bone-crusher commercial world where survival was its own cruel challenge. And one of ours… was slain outright."

"Any enterprise that promises a steady stream of profit and influence, they are there — without exception," Wade added, breaking his silence with a grim note. "They control several worlds possessing unique, irresistible properties — planets that compel visitation no matter the risk or expense. A world suffused with an unparalleled energy source vital to mastering a rare law… a planet prowled by beasts whose slain hides and bones yield unmatched mounts… or, as in this case, a planet teeming with mighty Specters, endlessly reborn no matter how many are hunted and destroyed."

"...." Robin's brows knitted further, his mind already reaching toward connections he wished he did not have to make.

That Syndicate… the name was but a veil for what it truly was — the Hidden Hand Syndicate, a creation of Sevar himself.

"...Could it be that the Syndicate's leadership is present on the Specter Valley planet?" Robin's question emerged in a measured tone, but beneath it lay a tension he fought to mask.

Sevar — his first mission. A threat greater even than the guardianship of Nihari. To approach him now, or to weave even the smallest thread of fate between them, would be to court disaster before his own strength was ready. Until the day came when his power was absolute, he would keep his distance from Sevar… and from the inner circle that served him with unquestioning loyalty.

"The leadership? I think that's highly improbable," Malik said at last, stepping in to provide the answer before anyone else could. His voice was steady, but the weight of his certainty pressed into every word. "The sheer number of worlds under their dominion is staggering — a lattice of planets stretching across sectors without end — and unlike other clandestine guilds that slink about in shadows, they parade their influence in the open for all to see. They have no reason to hide their movements. If anyone were to embark on a hunt for their leadership, they would not waste time on some forsaken frontier like Specter Valley. The Syndicate's leaders dwell in places of greater magnitude — worlds brimming with wealth, prestige, and the sort of notoriety that commands both fear and respect. Those are the thrones upon which they sit."

"...." Robin gave the faintest of nods, though his brows remained furrowed into a sharp, pensive crease, as if carved there by the gravity of the situation.

Was it wiser to abandon this path altogether and search for some lesser, more inconspicuous world, far from the Valley's reputation?

…No. Such a thought was little more than wishful thinking. Evading the Syndicate entirely was a daydream — the sort of fantasy one could only afford when ignorant of the truth. From the words of the three Imperial Guard captains alone, it was obvious: the Syndicate's influence was not merely widespread, it was brazen, looming like an ever-present constellation in the night sky of the cosmos. His own son, Theo, and even the feared Shadow Swords were counted, in the unspoken language of power, as unofficial vassals beneath their banner.

The realization gnawed at him — and yet, before his thoughts could spiral further, a clipped, officious voice shattered his reverie.

"Permits."

Robin turned his gaze toward the spatial portal platform. The gate officials had already approached, their uniforms crisp, their expressions strictly professional.

"Here you go." Malik and Wade stepped forward in practiced unison, handing over the guards' exit permits, the travel authorizations, and the proof of payment for their intended destination. The attendant received them with an air of habitual precision, scanning each document with careful scrutiny, as if the slightest oversight might invite disaster.

Once satisfied, the official stepped to one side and began feeding the coordinates into the portal's crystalline control array. Lines of light flared briefly over the panel, humming with spatial energy.

"Please wait one moment," he said politely.

"You three," Robin spoke again, his tone casual enough to mask the edge of calculation behind it, "have any of you ever encountered Specters before?" It was a question asked to pass the time, yet also a quiet probe for knowledge he would rather have before setting foot on the other side.

"Ah, yes… a handful, once," Malik answered, a shadow of weariness in his tone. He released a slow breath, as though recalling a battle that had drained more than just his strength. "They were… taxing, to say the least. I never did see that so-called emerald they're rumored to drop."

Latania's lips curled into a knowing smile. "Or perhaps the ones you faced were too feeble to produce anything worth your notice. Imagine — their emeralds no larger than grains of sand, scattered at your feet, and you simply walked away."

"I wouldn't argue with you in the point, maybe what you said is true." Malik rolled his shoulders in a shrug. "Still, they're aggravating creatures no matter their size or strength. Time — my usual advantage — is almost useless against them, and brute force fares no better. I had to use several of the soul-force techniques Lady Emily bestowed upon us just to bring them down. Without those, I would have been left with no choice but to keep running until my legs gave out."

"...." Robin sank back into silence, the corners of his eyes tightening.

An Imperial Guard division leader — battle-hardened, tested by campaigns across the stars — worn down by a mere handful of what were considered weak Specters? The thought rippled through him with quiet unease. Perhaps this mission would not unfold with the swiftness and simplicity he had envisioned.

BZZZT

The portal's shimmering aperture stirred to life, the air before them bending and warping in liquid waves of light. A low, resonant hum rolled outward as the space within began to ripple like disturbed water.

The attendant straightened and gestured toward the swirling void with the deference of someone presenting a royal path.

"Specter Valley — please proceed."

"...." Robin inclined his head stiffly, then motioned for Latania to take the lead. Wade and Malik followed in close step, their silhouettes framed in the portal's pulsing glow.

In the blink of an eye, all four were swallowed by the vortex, their figures dissolving into streaks of light before the gateway sealed shut with a muted thrum.

---------------------

—One hour later—

BZZZT

The portal flared again, its surface parting to admit a lone figure.

The portal officials immediately dipped into a shallow bow.

"Professor Shaddad."

The man spared them no more than a passing glance, his long strides eating the distance as though urgency were stitched into his very bones. Upon his face rested a broad, almost boyish smile — the kind that hinted at some private triumph.

"Heh-heh… I've secured another vital resource for the Fifth Bath," he murmured to himself, voice laced with satisfaction. "The elder brother will want to hear of this at once. He must be drowning in boredom, lying idle in bed all this time…"

Without breaking pace, Shaddad vanished into the corridor beyond, leaving the portal officials in his wake.