Lord of the Truth

Somewhere in the Mid-Sector 99 – Ghost Valley Planet

Bzzzt

Only moments earlier, Robin had been surrounded by an almost dreamlike paradise: vast gardens brimming with colossal plants whose lifespans stretched back hundreds of thousands of years, their towering trunks and sprawling leaves whispering of ages long past. He had been treading along a marble walkway that shimmered with a pearly radiance, each step carrying him closer to a grand gate encrusted with the rarest and most exquisite gemstones the sector could offer. The air there had been crisp, fragrant, and almost sacred.

Then, in the very instant he stepped beyond the threshold of that jeweled gate, the world turned on its head.

"...."

Robin's expression hardened instantly. The air here was stifling with oppressive humidity, thick enough that each breath felt like inhaling warm mist. Above, the sky was locked in a strange, eternal twilight—neither fully day nor night. It was as if a white thread and a black thread were forever entwined in combat, struggling endlessly at the razor edge of dusk.

Before him stretched a land scarred in darkness: small but jagged mountains, black as obsidian, their surfaces cloaked in a swirling, malignant haze. The sight gave the uncanny impression that they had only just been scorched by an apocalyptic fire moments ago.

Latanya emerged behind him, her hands steady on the handles of the wheelchair, pushing him forward. Wade and Malik followed, both halting in their steps as their faces involuntarily tightened. The suffocating wave of negative energy rolling through the air was enough to make even seasoned warriors uneasy.

"What a vile stench…" Robin muttered under his breath—though his words were almost swallowed by the weight of the atmosphere. As Latanya pushed him forward, a draft caught him full in the face, bringing with it a putrid, clinging odor. It was the kind of smell that dug into the back of the throat—thick, rancid, and overpowering, like the breath of thousands upon thousands of corpses left to rot in stagnant air.

"Entry permits."

The deep, commanding voice snapped Robin's attention forward. Standing before them was a man so massive that he seemed less like a person and more like a living fortress—broad enough to block the path entirely. His tone, though technically polite, carried the solid weight of authority. His hands were clasped neatly behind his back, yet Robin could see the subtle readiness in his stance, the coiled tension of someone prepared to strike without hesitation should the need arise.

"Here." Malik stepped forward calmly, producing the necessary documents. He handed them over and immediately began a low, businesslike exchange with the giant.

Robin, meanwhile, let his gaze wander with quiet calculation. There were at least ten guards here—ten he could see, at least. Judging by the palpable pressure of their auras, half of them were Martial Emperors, including that moving gat" of a man directly before them. The other half… World Cataclysms.

Five World Cataclysms to guard a single entryway. The sheer luxury of such security detail was staggering—more extravagant than anything Robin had seen even at the Dawn Light Stellar Academy.

Still, it wasn't completely inexplicable. The cost of entry alone was staggering—fifty thousand Pearls for a first-time visitor, with an additional ten thousand Pearls for every extra day. A quick calculation told him that Wade must have paid four hundred thousand Pearls for the four of them to remain here for just six days.

Four hundred thousand for less than a week… By contrast, the Dawn Light Stellar Academy—home to the greatest library in Mid-Sector 99 and boasting the finest training facilities—charged the same amount for nearly eight years of enrollment.

"All in order," the massive guard finally said, pressing his heavy seal onto each permit. He returned the stamped papers to Malik with a smile that seemed more predatory than friendly. "You have six days. Anything you can claim from Ghost Valley is yours to keep. Whether you manage to recover your investment will depend entirely on your own skill and strength. Once your six days are up, any extra time will cost you a daily fine—payable in full before departure. Now… proceed with caution."

With that, he stepped aside, his colossal form moving with the ponderous weight of a fortress wall sliding back into place. The other guards did not so much as twitch, their eyes and expressions betraying no interest whatsoever in Robin or his companions—as if they were nothing more than passing dust.

Creek

Latanya, Wade, and Malik clearly had no interest in exchanging pleasantries either. Without a word, Latanya set the wheelchair in motion, her movements precise and deliberate. Within a few dozen paces, the four figures were swallowed by the warped horizon, their silhouettes fading into the oppressive gloom of the valley.

"…Well," Robin murmured with a dry chuckle, "at least they were somewhat polite."

The men at the spatial portal were clearly members of that Syndicate. This was Robin's first time laying eyes on one of them—and certainly the first time dealing with them directly.

"They're always like this," Wade said at last, his tone even but edged with faint annoyance. "Spread thin across every corner of the sector, and rarely openly arrogant. In fact, these ones probably sound a bit rough simply because they're still low-ranked members." His lips tightened. "The higher a member's status in that Syndicate, the more polished, charming, and easy to deal with they tend to be."

"Hmm… that spiteful tone doesn't quite match the pleasant words you're choosing," Robin said with a sly smile tugging at the corner of his lips, his eyes narrowing in playful suspicion.

Wade didn't bother to reply—at least not right away. But somehow, those words of his had calmed Robin a little. If they truly were scattered like shadows across every part of the sector, then forging a direct link to Sevar just by meeting one of them… would be like trying to find the source of a river by staring at a single drop of water.

"Their friendliness and easy-going attitude," Malik interjected, voice low but edged with a cool certainty, "has nothing to do with kindness. It comes from the fact that they live without fear. No one holds them accountable. Not their enemies. Not the law. Not the heavens themselves. Every member of that guild is a criminal—and they wear that fact like a badge of pride. They know what they are, they know the world knows it, and they simply don't care. They commit atrocities in broad daylight, grin like they're sharing an inside joke, and then walk through the streets nibbling candy as if they own them."

Latanya's expression soured, and the light in her eyes dimmed. "For a regular person, joining them is nearly impossible. For a criminal? It's like being welcomed home. You just need to stack up enough negative karma—enough to stain your soul a dozen times over—before you even try to approach them. And the entry trials… the things you're required to do to prove yourself…" She shook her head, a subtle shiver running through her. "They're not just brutal. They're monstrous."

Her gaze turned toward the distant horizon, as if the answer might be waiting there. "But what I want to know is… who protects them? Who's standing in the shadows making sure justice never lays a hand on them?"

"It's… bizarre," Wade said, his tone shifting to something halfway between disbelief and frustration. "The academies stand up to Behemoths when they step out of line. Behemoths punish the academies when they fail their duties. But when it comes to that Syndicate? Neither side even pretends to care."

"People say," Latanya replied, leaning forward as if sharing a secret, "that the Syndicate masters have something—some terrible leverage—over both the Behemoths and the leaders of the Stellar Academies' Alliance."

Malik's lips curled into a faint, humorless smile. "What could possibly threaten a Behemoth? What truth could you reveal that would actually shake their throne?"

The three fell silent, each trapped in their own web of thought.

Robin stayed quiet too… but not for the same reason. He wasn't guessing. He wasn't wondering. He already knew.

Sevar.

The user of the sixth-stage of the Master Law of Causality—one of the most terrifying existences in the known universe.

If the Cosmic Elder himself did not act, or that mysterious woman known as Athena, then there was simply no way to touch him.

But the problem was… the Cosmic Elder had poured his strength into protecting the universe, draining himself until he was little more than a dying flame. His time was nearly gone. He couldn't afford the toll of a confrontation that massive.

And Athena… was locked away in her own world, unreachable, unmoved, uncaring about whatever storms raged outside her walls.

That left the Syndicate —the Hidden Hand— completely unchecked. Free to grow. Free to spread. Free to strangle the stars themselves if they wished.

Morfius and Interas… competing for supremacy in wealth and influence?

Robin almost smirked at the thought. At best, they were fighting for second place. First place already belonged to the Hidden Hand—and would remain theirs unless Sevar fell.

"Shaaaaah//"

A sound cut through the air like a serrated blade. It was close—too close.

In an instant, the atmosphere shifted. Wade's eyes sharpened, Malik's hand drifted toward his weapon, and Latanya's grip on Robin's wheelchair tightened without her even realizing it.

From behind the black mountain, the source emerged.

A herd of specters —swirling, pale, their forms half-real and half-nightmare— stood behind the mountain, seems to be ready to take over the planet.