Lord of the Truth

Chapter 1279 1279: Fight!

”...What the hell is going on here?!”

Robin shouted, his voice thundering across the vast, sprawling garden, echoing off its marble pillars and towering walls, forcing every head in the vicinity to turn.

BAM!

Without hesitation, the guard standing behind him raised his arm and brought it crashing down on Robinʼs shoulder with brutal force. A strike from someone at level 48 should have been more than enough to obliterate a mere level 44 intruder—sending him straight into the ground like a nail hammered into stone.

”Silence yourself, you backwater peasant!” the guard barked arrogantly. ”Do you even know whom youʼre speaking to?! This is sacred imperial ground, not some village fair you—huh?!”

Before he could finish his tirade—WHOOOOOSH—a sudden surge of soul energy swept the air as a shimmering silver portal opened right next to Robin. From it emerged a massive silver war hammer, its surface glowing with ancient runes.

”Hey! What do you think youʼre—”

BOOOOOOOOOOOOM!

”Pfgh—!”

The world spun around the guard. One second he was towering over the young man from the Young Belt, gripping his shoulder with scorn—and the next, he was airborne, hurtling backward, his body numb, his lungs filling with blood. He stared up at the sky, gasping in disbelief, unable to feel a single bone in his body.

”....”

Lord Darmekʼs expression darkened ever so slightly. His keen senses had just registered the force released from that hammer.

It was no ordinary attack— that was hammer carried a weight of nearly 5,000 units...

”You dare assault an Imperial Guards?” the chief of security roared, his voice filled with fury and disbelief. He unsheathed a massive weapon from behind his back and pointed it squarely at Robin.

”Arrest the intruder at once!”

”Detain him!”

Nearly thirty guards clad in imperial armor leapt into action simultaneously, converging on Robin like a tidal wave of steel and fury.

”Fuck off!”

Robinʼs voice was cold, calm, and absolute. Without even turning to look at them—his gaze still fixed on Lord Darmek and the battered prisoner in his grip—Robin swung his hand forcefully through the air.

In that instant, dozens of silver portals burst open like firecrackers across the garden, tearing through space and time with deep, resonating hums.

WHOOM... WHOOM... WHOOM...

”FOOOOOOOOO!!!”

The garden exploded into chaos.

From the portals, massive soul creatures emerged. A three-tailed mammoth stomped onto the ground, its tusks crackling with lightning. Beside it landed a colossal six-armed gorilla, roaring with primal fury. And these were merely the vanguard.

More portals burst open—revealing human and demi-human warriors, powerful entities cloaked in soul armor. Among them stood known faces: Marshal Lonta, wielding twin glaives that shimmered like stars; and the First Marshal Celebos, his eyes glowing with battle-hardened wisdom.

”Heʼs... Heʼs a Soul Master!!”

The chief guard shrieked in disbelief, stumbling backward in a panic. But Celebos was upon him in a flash, not giving him the chance to draw another breath.

And he wasnʼt alone.

The once-serene hall, a structure meant for diplomatic arrivals and dignified receptions, had turned into a raging battlefield in a heartbeat. And this was no even fight—this was a full-on siege.

Robin had flooded the area with soul creatures—ensuring that not a single enemy could even think of slipping past his rear line.

”...Oh? So youʼre not just an ordinary Envoy.”

Lord Darmik narrowed his eyes slightly as he observed the one-sided massacre unfolding behind them.

”Even the weakest among those creatures possesses 700 soul units... and some of them, three to four thousand. Thatʼs no trivial feat.”

He furrowed his brows in deeper thought, voice tinged with disbelief.

”By all logic, any soul creature that dies and is absorbed into a soul domain should only be revived with the same strength it held at death. That is a law of soul cultivation.”

He turned slightly, eyes sharp as blades, watching the battlefield.

”So how in the name of the heavens can a mere villager—someone like you—possess this many beasts and beings with soul capacity of a thousand units or more? This defies reason.”

Robinʼs fingers twitched, his instincts sharp and ready. A battle loomed, and his every muscle remembered war.

”What you canʼt do, doesnʼt mean others canʼt,” he replied, his tone cold as forged steel. ”I am nothing like anyone youʼve ever seen before. Now answer me—who is that man youʼre holding? What crime did he commit to deserve this brutality?”

The soldier in black-and-gold armor, limp in Darmekʼs grasp, was unconscious—clearly overwhelmed by the earlier blow. Blood poured from every crack in his battered face, pooling on the marble below. His condition was rapidly deteriorating.

Robin normally wouldnʼt hesitate to strike down Darmek—but there was something about this manʼs aura, a lingering nobility that made him pause...

”...Him?”

Lord Darmek chuckled, his voice laced with disdain.

”Thatʼs a deputy general from your pitiful empire. And a war criminal at that. His general abandoned the battlefield, so now he must pay the price.”

”A war criminal?!”

Robin clenched his jaw tightly, his teeth grinding so hard it was audible. Rage simmered beneath his skin like a volcano on the verge of eruption. His voice, though low, carried the weight of thunder.

”We are even not your subordinates. We are not beholden to your empire, nor bound by your decrees. We sent a handful of soldiers to train with your armies—nothing more than a gesture of friendship, a token of mutual respect between two powers. We left them with you in good faith, as a sign of peaceful intentions and future cooperation. And this is how you repay that?”

His eyes burned with indignation.

”Because their general had to retreat—due to an unforeseen emergency—you punish them like criminals? What kind of twisted justice is this?”

He stepped forward, his voice rising.

”Forget their general for a moment—even if every last one of them had retreated—by what right, and with what face, do you dare to speak of consequences? If you had even a grain of dignity or the faintest idea of honor, you would have sent them back yourself with rewards and gratitude for all theyʼve done on your behalf!”

Darmikʼs lips curled into a cruel sneer.

”Rewards?”

He scoffed, his tone dripping with contempt.

”We trained them. We gave them the honor of standing shoulder to shoulder with the mighty legions of Azakra—an honor countless others would kill for. And what do they do? After a mere fifty years of service, they run like cowards? They disgrace us, and you expect gratitude? Ha! Even a thousand years of servitude wouldnʼt make up for that insult!”

With a theatrical flick of his hand, he released the chain he had been using to drag the soldier. The wounded man collapsed onto the stone floor like a broken doll, blood still trickling from his mouth, ears, and eyes.

”...And you,” Darmik continued, his gaze locking onto Robin.

”You think you can attack Azakraʼs royal guards—address me in that insolent tone—and walk away from this unscathed?”

His voice dropped into a deadly whisper, filled with venom.

”The so-called ʼTrue Beginning Empireʼ seems to be filled with disrespectful mutts who donʼt know their place. Perhaps itʼs time someone taught them a painful lesson to recognize your place as the followers you are. If we let this slide, even our allies will mock us—forget our enemies!”

SWOOSH!

A swarm of warriors clad in deep orange-brown armor burst out from within the palace. The thunderous clatter of their armored boots against the marble floor echoed through the grand hallways. The noise spilled out into the courtyard, drawing attention from all directions.

The man leading them radiated an aura of overwhelming might. It was suffocating—a clear signal of a ”World Cataclysm” level being.

”Lord Darmik! What in the heavens is happening here?”

The man barked, his voice carrying authority and confusion in equal measure.

Robin, however, didnʼt so much as glance at them. His focus remained locked on the man in front of him.

”Teaching me a lesson as a follower?”

Robin echoed mockingly. Then he jabbed a thumb toward his own chest, his eyes gleaming with disbelief and wrath.

”Are you talking to me? Are you seriously calling me one of your followers?!”

His voice rose into a laugh—harsh and bitter.

”Has the sky shattered while I was away? Did the rules of the universe change? I vanish for a few years and you grow bold enough to spread rumors that I serve you? Even that shameless little fox you serve would never dare utter such filth in my presence!”

”...?!”

The shock hit like a wave. Darmikʼs mind reeled, momentarily going blank. The reinforcements behind him looked equally stunned.

That shameless little fox he serve? Could he possibly mean—

”Well then...”

Robin stepped forward, slowly. Deliberately.

”Letʼs settle this. Today, I—Robin Burton—will witness firsthand just how you intend to ʼteachʼ me to be a loyal, obedient servant.”

With a thunderous gesture, he flung both arms wide. The silvery gates that dotted the horizon multiplied and expanded, spilling light in all directions. They now blanketed the sky and earth alike, as if the very fabric of reality had been torn open.

One portal in particular, positioned just beside him, began pulsing intensely—its energy thick enough to make the air shimmer.

WHOOOOOM WHOOOOOM WHOOOOOM

Then they began to emerge.

This time, it wasnʼt a mere squad.

It was an army.

Hundreds—no, perhaps thousands—of soul creatures came pouring out of the gates.

Gargantuan, otherworldly creatures filled the air and ground. Their howls, growls, and roars blended into a symphony of chaos. The earth trembled under their feet. The wind howled with their arrival.

”Damn it!”

The newly arrived reinforcements barely had time to orient themselves before they were swallowed in a flood of soul beasts.

Beasts of all shapes and sizes descended like a divine punishment, and accompanying them were soldiers—many of them humanoid, others not—each one carrying soul pressure rivaling that of a mid-tier Emperor or higher.

It wasnʼt just a battle.

It was an invasion.

An overwhelming storm of soul-forged wrath.

”Hold formation! Follow standard Soul Master defense protocol!”

The palace head guard bellowed as he brandished a massive spiked war hammer, pulling it from his spatial ring in a flash of light.

”We hold the line—donʼt try to win, just defend long enough for me to take his head!”

His words were filled with conviction.

He stepped toward Robin, confidence in every motion, as though he were about to carry out a mundane execution.

But then—he froze.

Something had shifted.

”Huh…?”

WHOOOOOOOOOOM

The blinding silver gate beside Robin opened wider.

From its depths emerged a leg—thick and scaled. Then another.

Out stepped a monstrous figure, towering well above three meters.

Its body was covered in deep, shimmering scales.

Its hair writhed like a cluster of small, living serpents.

Its eyes—cold, sharp, unblinking—locked immediately onto the palace guard with a predatorʼs focus.

A silence fell.

A dangerous, poised silence.

Robin didnʼt even blink.

He simply raised one finger and pointed.

”Pythor,”

he said, his voice calm like the stillness before a storm.

”Take his head.”

”...Y–Yes, master.”