Lord of the Truth

BANG!

Specter King Arkalon descended like a meteor, slamming into the ground directly before Robin. The instant his monstrous form collided with the Shield of Nexus, the defense shattered with a deafening crack, fragments of spiritual energy scattering like shards of broken glass flung into the wind. The carefully woven soul technique dissolved as though it had never existed.

A cruel, predatory grin stretched across Arkalon's hollow features. His voice dripped venom, deep and mocking: "And where do you think you are going, my new right hand? This isn't a good behavior, we should get to know each other better."

SHAA SHAA

"…!!" Robin twisted sharply, eyes darting across the battlefield. The vast clearing he had carved out with the Shield of Nexus—a sanctuary amidst chaos—was gone. In the blink of an eye, it had been swallowed once again by the sea of specters. Now, thousands surrounded him, pressing close enough that their chilling presence scraped against his skin, as if their fingers hovered at his throat.

Yet none of them struck. They merely stood, enclosing him like an unbroken wall of death, restrained by reverence for their king who loomed at the center of it all.

The world grew silent. The howls of the masses faded into nothingness, swallowed by the weight of the moment. Robin's perception narrowed until there was only one figure—the monstrous sovereign before him. In such a snare, no path of escape remained. Not through soul force. Not through the body. Not even through the majesty of the fundamental laws themselves.

"…You don't have to do this." Robin lifted his chin, his gaze locking with Arkalon's sunken, abyssal eyes. His voice was steady, cold, unyielding. "Forcing me into a corner has never ended well for anyone. No one has ever trapped me and walked away with what they wanted. I promise you… you will not be the exception today."

"You dare… threaten a specter?" Arkalon's tone broke into jagged laughter, sharp and manic. "With what—death? Hahaha!" His booming cackle shook the air, a chorus of madness that seemed to rattle the bones of the specters around them. "You may be a clever weaver of soul techniques… but intelligence? That is not your strength, human."

Robin's expression did not waver. His voice cut back, harder than steel: "There are fates far worse than becoming a specter… Such as becoming one stripped of will."

At those words, Arkalon's expression shifted, the amusement draining away, replaced by sharp and vicious hostility. "You dare threaten me… with turning me into a soul creature? Me?" His voice lowered, guttural, trembling with fury. "I can feel your domain rotting, twisting, ever since you devoured Shar'kha the lion—a specter that did not even reach ten percent of my strength, one percent of my consciousness, not even a hundredth of a percent of my memories!"

"And you…" He lifted his skeletal hand slowly, deliberately, until he tapped Robin's shoulder, a gesture both mocking and terrifying. "…you truly believe you could devour me? Your fragile domain barely supports eight hundred thousand units, and you think yourself capable of consuming me?" A deep, venomous laugh spilled from his mouth. "If not for the risk that your memories would be shattered beyond repair, leaving you broken like the pitiful specters beneath me—you would already be dead."

Robin's lips pressed thin as he gave a slow, measured nod. "You've made yourself clear. Reassembling scattered memories after death would indeed be… difficult." His gaze hardened once again, locking with Arkalon's eyes. "Then tell me—what do you plan to do with me and my companions?"

The Specter King waved his staff with a dismissive flick, like a master brushing aside dust. "Your companions are irrelevant. My army has burned through countless units and requires replenishment. Their souls will be destroyed, shattered into fragments, and distributed among my legions before the true battle begins. Their fates are already sealed."

Then his staff swung back, pointing directly at Robin. "But you… you have a chance. You will remain at my side for one hundred thousand years. You will devote yourself entirely to completing my new array. When it is done, I will release you." His tone darkened into something almost indulgent, as though he were offering a gift. "You need not thank me. What I require is your absolute focus, your undiminished, unbroken memories. Freedom will be the prize for your success."

Arkalon spread his arms wide, laughter rising once again, but now rich with mockery and cruel delight. The sound reverberated across the field, like the gates of the abyss creaking open. "And of course… should you come to enjoy my rule, that one hundred thousand years can be extended. Not for a little longer. Not for an age. But forever—into eternity!"

"….." Robin's hardened face began to change, his lips slowly curling upward into a faint, unsettling smile. "Tsk~ Everyone claims I am arrogant, conceited, insane even—blind to my own place in the world. Yet none of them truly sees the kinds of figures I deal with every single day. Every vermin that holds even a scrap of power or influence believes himself a god, untouchable, above reproach. To meet the likes of you with honor and humility—now that would be the true, unforgivable crime against one's own self!"

"...." Specter King Arkalon's grip clenched tighter around his staff, the ancient bone creaking beneath his force. "Am I to understand… that you refuse my generous offer?" His voice was calm, but venomous, trembling with restrained wrath.

Robin's head tilted slowly, gaze sliding to his right. BAM BAM There was Malek, struggling in desperation within the endless sea of specters. His body was bloodied, his aura flickering under the weight of the battlefield. From the very moment Arkalon had set foot upon the arena, the pressure had multiplied manyfold, pressing down like a collapsing sky. At least seven specters, each radiating a power surpassing fifty thousand units, closed in on him with gnashing hunger.

His state screamed disaster—he might not even live long enough to attempt escape, much less reach Robin's side. And Wade… Wade fared no better, his own body battered, dodging frantically, his figure nearly drowned amidst the horde.

Robin nodded a few times as he watched from afar, the weight of the sight pressing on him. Then he spoke, his tone deep, reflective. "…Long ago, I encountered a technique most fascinating. Its concept was ingenious, its results magnificent. Yet… it was not meant for me. It slipped through my grasp, and that reality left me with a touch of grief, even envy, toward those who could wield it freely. I hated admitting it, but there was a hollow in my heart… a sense of incompleteness. Still, I did not give up. For years, in the stolen hours of solitude, I labored to reshape it, to remake it into something that might fit me. And at last, I succeeded! But my triumph carried one fatal flaw…"

"...." The withered, leathery brows of Specter King Arkalon furrowed like storm clouds, his gaze narrowing. What madness is this human speaking of?

Robin exhaled, the sound carrying a quiet gravity. "…The flaw was its cost. It devoured soul force—an ocean's worth, far more than I possessed at the time. A soul force so vast I once believed I could never attain it. And even now, to be honest…" He lifted his eyes once more, burning with unwavering resolve as they locked into Arkalon's abyssal hollows. "…it is a soul force I still do not truly possess."

A pause lingered, heavy, electric. Then Robin's voice sharpened, his words cutting like blades: "But I have discovered how to summon it, how to provide it… should I so choose. Yes, it will come with consequences. I accept that. But I also know this truth—it will wound you, Specter King, far more deeply than it will ever harm me."

Arkalon's hollow sockets flared, and then—he laughed. A sharp, venomous, mocking laugh that rang across the battlefield. "You dare threaten me with an untested technique?" His tone rose, boiling into anger as his bony finger pointed toward Robin through the staff. "Forget recruitment! I have no use for foolish dreamers! I will kill you here, and then I shall tear through your memories myself!"

His voice split the silence, filled with command. "Rip him apart! But leave the head intact!"

SHAAAAAAAAHHH~//

The world darkened as tens of thousands of specters lunged toward Robin at once, their forms like a tidal wave of claws, fangs, and blackened mist. The ground quaked beneath their stampede, the air drowned in their shrieks of bloodlust.

"..." Robin nodded softly, almost peacefully, as he exhaled a long sigh. At that moment, he closed his eyes. The battlefield, the cries of the specters, the trembling of the world—all of it faded. He felt as if he were utterly alone in the vast, endless universe. Silence. Stillness. Then, from his lips, came a whisper, gentle but resonant, like the tolling of a divine bell:

"Divine Decree Incarnation Technique… Master Law of Truth version."