Lord of the Truth

Chapter 1504: Divine Decree Incarnation Technique of truth -2

”....”

With bloodied eyes, Robin focused his gaze on Wade—or... what looked like Wade. At least, it was supposed to be Wade standing in that corner.

Wade himself was looking at his palms up and down, feeling his body, panicking, not knowing what’s happening to him.

What he saw now was not the Wade he knew. It was something sharper, stranger, dissected by layers.

In the instant Robin’s eyes turned toward him, he first saw a heap of twitching red muscles, fibers twisting violently as though unsure of their own form, and a bulging eye darting around in confusion. He saw Wade staring at his own hand in shock, mouth open as though trying to scream at what was happening to him.

The next moment, all Robin saw were the veins and blood vessels threading through the body. Then he saw Wade’s unique energy channels, the strange traces of elixirs he had consumed before the battle, etched into him like scars of light.

Then came only bone, a skeleton draped in nothingness. Around it swirled a dark cloud—the haze of foul karma—shaped with a twisted, grinning face. Finally, Robin’s gaze pierced deeper, to the nearly empty energy core, to its foundations, then into Wade’s soul domain, where he saw the faint outlines of his soul creatures.

Robin’s vision wavered as he stared at Wade. Each layer of truth cut deeper into him, showing not only flesh and bone but intention, memory, and the stains of countless choices Wade had made in his life.

He saw regret pooled like shadows in his core, the reckless courage that had pushed him into this battle, and the faint glimmer of loyalty burning stubbornly even as his body frayed apart. It was overwhelming—too much for any human to behold—and Robin’s head throbbed as though it might burst under the weight of such revelations.

And at the end of that cascade, Robin saw Wade again, whole and naked, his true body exposed. Several points shone like stars across his form—weak spots, targets screaming to be struck.

After that, Robin’s sight turned to the black armor alone. He saw its full structure, the seams where it had been forged together, every detail laid bare. Dotted along it were glowing points, and beside each, faint inscriptions—notations of the force required to break them, and even which law would be best suited for the strike.

This was a mid-grade epic armor!

Yet despite everything Robin saw, Wade still moved. He remained an independent being, a will of his own, capable of resisting, of striking back, of trying to flee. Not like the specters, who had been reduced to hollow shells under the Manifesting Decree.

Perhaps this was what it meant to be a higher being on the great ladder of existence. Robin wondered grimly: What would I see if before me stood a human with the power of a World Cataclysm... or even one in a Nexus State?

What would happen if the Decree was forced upon someone greater still...

CRACK

”...?” Robin heard the sharp snap. At once he knew—it was his arm. It had broken.

CRACKCRACK

More sounds followed in rapid succession. His body could no longer withstand this magnitude of pressure.

And so, though the slaughter of the specter horde was not yet finished... Robin closed his eyes.

OOOOOM

The vast golden eye in the sky blinked shut, retreating upward until it vanished into clouds that had formed from nothing.

The light that had bathed plains and mountains in revelation faded. The brilliance that stripped all things to truth drew back in silence.

With it, every soul gate closed, every whirlwind and every net dissolved.

The collapse of the golden eye was not sudden but drawn out, like the closing of heaven itself. Shadows bled back into the world, painting everything dull once more. The specters, who had been reduced to hollow truths, regained their shapes. Their claws returned, their ghastly faces reformed, but the memory of what had just happened lingered in their movements.

Many trembled as if unsure they even wanted to exist anymore. Others grew manic, desperate to prove they still had meaning by hurling themselves.

As for Robin—

PUFF

The soul force wheel chair beneath him crumbled, and he fell, landing on his back.

”Sh-shaaaaahhh?!” The surviving specters found their voices and forms again. Even their ghastly faces—horrid masks that inspired fear—were etched with panic and confusion.

They turned wildly, searching for their leaders, but none could be found.

”Shaaaaaahhh!!” In terror, they realized their numbers had been decimated. With no leaders left to command them, the inevitable came.

WHOOSHWHOOSH

Hundreds of specters scattered in panic, fleeing in every direction—those who retained fragments of memory, fragments of thought. But not all. More than half remained, and once their targets were fixed again, they roared and charged: ”Shaaaahhh!!”

”Your Majesty!!” Wade and Malik surged toward Robin as they saw the swarm closing in.

The ground beneath Malik folded, and the air before Wade cracked—without the specter kings to restrain them, they could finally use their movement techniques freely, reaching Robin in an instant.

When they arrived at his side, they shouted again, this time in pain and fear: ”Your Majesty!!”

Robin’s state was ghastly. His arms, legs, ribs—every bone twisted and fractured at unnatural angles, his frame bending like shattered glass barely holding together. Veins beneath his skin had ruptured, bleeding freely. From his eyes and ears flowed streams of blood, each drop sizzling as if tainted by venom, dripping onto the ground like ink. And his aura... his aura was darker, fouler, closer to death itself than even Specter King Arkalon.

”Focus on carrying His Majesty out of here,” Malik growled, striking the nearest specter aside before preparing for another.

”What are you saying? Your body’s collapsing too!” Wade shouted. He knew exactly what Malik meant, for he was in the same state.

Both of them had been pushed beyond the brink in this short battle, their souls scarred and wounded. The instant Wade shifted with his movement art to Robin’s side, he had felt it—he might be able to move one more time before falling apart entirely. And if he tried to move while carrying someone else, the strain would be even greater.

Malik was no better. If he fought to hold back the horde instead of escaping, the end was certain.

”Do it! We exist to protect His Majesty—that is our life’s purpose!!” Malik roared, eyes burning with the mark of soul damage.

”...Damn it!!” Wade clenched his eyes shut, grasping a seed of energy, trying to gather what little remained to pull Robin out of the battlefield.

Wade’s heart thundered. He knew his body was failing, his soul-thread fraying dangerously, yet the thought of abandoning Robin was impossible. He looked at Malik and saw the same resolve mirrored there. Both men were broken, yet both chose defiance.

The swarm closed in, claws raised, shrieks echoing like knives, and still they planted their feet beside Robin’s broken body. For one breath, they were not warriors on the brink of collapse—they were shields, unyielding, daring the darkness to come.

Robin’s body trembled under the invisible aftermath of the golden eye. Each muscle fiber screamed, each joint groaned, as if his very anatomy resented what he had forced it to endure. His breath came ragged, shallow, tasting of copper. Every heartbeat felt like a drumbeat of war struck against a fractured shield. Yet even in this ruin, his mind clung to clarity. He could not allow himself to fall fully, not while Wade and Malik stood fighting for him. Not while specters still prowled with hungry intent.

The specters that remained were divided. Some paced restlessly, glancing about like beasts that had lost their master’s whip. Others grew frenzied, pounding their chests, trying to roar louder than their own terror. Their black eyes darted to Robin again and again, as though they feared and coveted him in equal measure. The battlefield, once a tide of certainty, had collapsed into chaos—chaos that could swallow them all if even one misstep was made.

Malik’s strikes grew heavier, not because he had strength left, but because he was willing to burn what little remained of his soul flame. His face contorted with pain, every movement tearing at wounds unseen, yet his blade never faltered. In his eyes burned a truth as absolute as Robin’s Decree: better to break here than to retreat while their emperor still breathed.

As for Robin, he opened his eyes—slowly, painfully.

Twin pools of pitch-black gazed outward, emanating a malevolent aura. Blood gushed from them even faster as they opened, yet he still forced them toward Wade. His lips parted with agonizing effort: ”Something... is coming...”

”Something?” Wade’s heart lurched. ”What do you mean, my lord there is no—” His words froze in his throat.

Slowly, he turned his head.

From the distance, a presence was approaching—a presence far darker, far heavier than the horde that had nearly killed them.

From that direction drifted not roars, not screams... but fragments of a human voice singing.

🎶🎶