Lord of the Truth

At that very instant, a thunderous cry split the air behind Robin, sharp and venomous,

"…There you are, you crippled wretch!!"

"…?!" Robin stiffened, his body seizing in shock. His heart lurched against his chest, every beat pounding like a war drum, and his breath caught in his throat. But it wasn't the identity of the speaker that rattled him—not at all. He didn't even turn to look behind him. Instead, his gaze locked downward, his senses sharpened, and a heavy silence seemed to smother him.

"Shaaaakh?"

The single word, dragged out in confusion, rippled through the sea of specters. More than half of that vast, restless tide froze mid-sway, their twisted forms lifting upward in eerie unison, all staring toward the summit where the shout had come from.

"🎶🎶"

"Shaaaakh…" The sound began to swell again, but fortune favored Robin. The girl's voice—melodic, steady, hypnotic—rose once more in song. The dreadful silence shattered, and the specters resumed their endless dance, swaying as if bound by invisible strings to the rhythm of her tune.

"Turn around and face me! I won't stain my honor by slicing your neck from behind!!" Again, the harsh roar came from the rear, loud enough to shake the stones.

"Silence, you fuckin' animal!!" Robin snapped, unable to restrain himself any longer. He spun around, his voice cutting like steel. With a sharp tilt of his head toward the mountain's base, he barked, "Open your eyes! Can't you see what's happening below us? Do you truly wish for death?!"

"Me, an animal?!" Kazarin snarled, face twisted with fury. "I'll shred you into pieces!!" He tore his weapon free with a hiss, ready to charge.

But baa—a sharp clap as one of his companions clutched his arm with trembling hands. His entire body quivered, fear etched across his features, and he whispered so faintly that only Kazarin could hear: "Use your soul sense… now, before it's too late…"

"My soul sense?" Kazarin sneered, jerking his arm free. "What, does he have hidden troops lying in wait beyond the ridge?" Despite his bravado, he extended his perception outward, testing the surroundings. The result was immediate. His bravado drained away, his body recoiling as though struck by lightning. He staggered backward several steps, eyes wide in sheer terror. "The Shepherd… it's the Specter Sheph—!!"

Before he could finish, he slapped both hands tightly over his mouth, terrified even the syllables themselves could summon doom upon him.

"The Shepherd? That's the infamous Specters Shepherd?" Robin's eyes narrowed. He turned once again toward the girl, studying her intently. What baffled him most was her complete lack of response. She hadn't twitched at the loud, jeering insults hurled from behind. Not once had she braced herself for an attack, nor even acknowledged the outburst. She simply… kept singing.

Could it be she hadn't noticed them? Impossible. She had identified Robin's hiding place in an instant, piercing his veil of stealth as if it were paper, locking eyes with him when no one else could. How, then, could she not register fifty fools bellowing threats right behind him?

The answer struck him like a hammer: she simply did not care.

To her, their voices were no different than the chirping of sparrows or the mewing of cats—background noise, irrelevant, harmless. Her mind had tossed their presence into the shadows of disregard, utterly convinced they posed no threat at all. She had ascended to a level of terrifying indifference, the kind born of a being who knew—beyond all doubt—that nothing in her surroundings could touch her.

Whooosh Whooosh

Suddenly, the air split again. Two more figures descended with deliberate grace, their presence pressing down like a storm. Robin didn't need to turn his head to know. He felt it instantly—the weight of their aura, the crushing intensity of their existence. He didn't even need to test further. The fact that they hovered, suspended in the sky without effort, said everything. Two World Cataclysms had joined the stage.

The newcomers were quickly briefed in hushed, frantic tones about the situation unfolding beyond the ridge, and though they made no immediate move, it was clear they were circling him. Slowly, deliberately, they crept closer—testing, probing, perhaps hoping to pry him from his seat and drag him to a place where the Shepherd's shadow did not fall.

Robin waited, listening to the pounding rhythm of his own heart. A few more seconds ticked by until the Specters Shepherd and her army moved further away, before he finally released a long, steady sigh. His head rose smoothly, then turned to Kazarin, his companions, and even the guards at his side.

His voice rang with cutting clarity. "Follow me farther away—unless you truly wish to provoke the specters into frenzy."

Wooosh

Without sparing them another glance, Robin launched himself forward, his body erupting into motion. In the blink of an eye, he became a blazing streak of white and gold, vanishing into the distance with all the grace and ferocity of a shooting star.

"What!?"

"Damn it, we can't keep up with that speed!"

"We have to cut him off anyway—after him, now!"

Whoosh Whoosh

Kazarin thrust out his arm, pointing toward Robin like a hunting hound catching the scent. Without hesitation he sprinted forward, his companions following, their boots and wings tearing through the air. It didn't matter where Robin fled to, it didn't matter how far he ran—today, Kazarin swore, the crippled teacher would not escape his grasp. Today would be the day they dragged him down, no matter the cost.

—Five long minutes later—

Whoosh

Robin came to an abrupt halt, his figure flickering as the golden-white streak of light dispersed into form again. He turned slowly, deliberately, letting the silence thicken around him. His eyes half-closed, his mind sank into thought.

That girl. That monster. That Shepherd. Just the memory of her song chilled his blood and made his heart pound with awe. She was a terror unlike anything he had seen before. Who, in all the worlds, would need an army if they could claim a creature like her as an ally? Who would waste years weaving alliances and treaties when a single hymn from her lips could subdue thousands of specters, an entire tide of death and madness?

Yes, with someone like her, kingdoms could crumble in silence. But what a waste—what a pity. That Shepherd bore no crest, carried no banner, acknowledged no master. From the manic gleam in her eyes and the way she dismissed the world around her, it was clear she belonged to no throne, no cause, and perhaps not even to reason itself.

Whoosh Whoosh

The ground trembled as two shadows descended at Robin's flanks, one to the right, one to the left. Their killing intent washed over him like waves, heavy and suffocating. Then more came—dark silhouettes streaking downward, dozens upon dozens, closing in like a tightening noose.

Kazarin himself dropped before Robin at last, planting his feet with a triumphant sneer. His voice rang with venomous glee.

"Heh~ You were slippery, truly slippery, but look at you now. The fire that carried you this far is gone, burned out. You're finished. Just as I expected from a failed cripple of a teacher. Today, Robin, your pathetic tale ends!"

"...." Robin tilted his head upward slowly, his calm gaze sliding from Kazarin's boots to his face. "Who are you?"

The grin on Kazarin's face cracked instantly. "Are you mocking me, you wretch?!" He swung an arm through the air in outrage, his voice cracking with fury. "I told you already—I was your student!"

Robin's expression didn't change. "When, exactly, did you tell me that?"

"...." A ripple of confusion passed through the crowd. The two World Calamities who had arrived earlier exchanged bewildered glances with the guards. The tension in the air twisted into something absurd, surreal.

"In the Mission Hall!!" Kazarin bellowed, his face flushing redder than blood, veins bulging on his neck. "What the hell is wrong with you?! How could you not remember me?!"

"The Mission Hall?" Robin frowned faintly, his eyes narrowing in thought. "...." Then suddenly his face brightened with the spark of recollection. "Ahhh… You're the one who chewed off Malik's foot, aren't you?"

The words fell like hammers. Robin wasn't mocking him, wasn't needling him. He genuinely hadn't remembered. He could memorize an impossibly complex pattern, an intricate law, or a labyrinthine formula with just one glance—yet an entire conversation he deemed unimportant? Gone from memory, discarded like ash.

Now, with the realization, his lips curved in faint surprise. "So that's why you're here. Did you like the taste so much you came chasing after more?"

Kazarin's eyes flared with madness. "I'll kill you!!" He roared, tearing both blades from their sheaths, steel flashing as he lunged forward. In his mind, Robin was nothing—a crippled relic, a teacher long past his prime. Kazarin alone was more than enough to kill him. The companions and guards he had gathered were just for show, insurance against the specters, nothing more.

"Tsk~" Robin sighed, lifting one hand lazily, a single finger pointing outward at Kazarin and all those around him. His voice came cold, quiet, carrying weight that silenced the air itself.

"The problem with this academy… is that it admits students for their wealth or talent, but never once tests the sharpness of their minds. All of you… made the mistake of following me here. And now, allow this teacher to give you one final lesson."

Hummmm

The air beside Robin rippled. A gate of pure white spirit-energy, its frame traced in molten gold, bloomed into existence. From its depths stepped forth a soul creature in human guise, tall, solid, its form radiating silent power.

Bang

In a blur of motion, the soul creature surged forward, intercepting Kazarin's strike with contemptuous ease. Its hands clamped around his wrists like iron shackles, freezing his twin blades in place. Then, in one smooth, merciless motion, it raised its leg and drove a brutal kick upward between Kazarin's thighs.

"Aaaaoooohhh!!!" The scream ripped from Kazarin's throat, raw and strangled. His eyes bulged, his body folding, bile rising as if he might vomit his very manhood. But mercy never came—he had no time to even feel the pain.

The soul creature released his right wrist, its fingers curling into a fist. And then—

BAM!

The blow landed squarely across Kazarin's cheek, the force like a cannon shell detonating against bone.

"Pfvvvtt—!!"

Blood and teeth burst from his mouth as his body was hurled backward, crashing across the ground in a mess of limbs, humiliation, and agony.