Lord of the Truth

Chapter 1508: Definition of disaster

”Ahhhhhh//”

Robin’s eyes flew open as his scream tore through the silence, raw and jagged, echoing as if dragged from the depths of his lungs. He clutched his head with both hands so tightly that his knuckles turned pale, as though trying to shield his skull from invisible blades stabbing into him again and again.

The nightmare had been too real. Every phantom strike, every thrust, he had felt it all cutting into his flesh—pain lancing through his body, relentless and unending. It was so real that he could taste the despair, the greed, the hatred that had drowned Arkalon in those final moments. That desperate hunger for one last breath, one last heartbeat—it all still clung to him like a suffocating shroud.

”Haa... haa... haa...” His chest rose and fell violently, air dragging in and out of his lungs in ragged bursts. Then, as his gaze slowly adjusted, he saw it—an ocean of black mist swirling around him, glyphs and talismans glowing faintly within the darkness, floating like broken stars. The realization struck him. It was only a dream. A nightmare... nothing more.

”What...?” Robin blinked hard, confusion washing over him. Only then did he realize something strange—his arms moved freely. He raised them up in front of his face, stunned. They were whole. No shattered bones tearing through skin. No twisted flesh. Nothing but smooth, unharmed limbs. Disbelief crawled through him as he tilted his head, looking down at his body. He bent his leg—no pain. He shifted his chest—no cracks, no agony. His body had been healed, every injury erased as if they had never existed.

And yet... something was wrong. Terribly wrong.

His arms, his chest, the world around him—everything was painted in endless black. Shapes rippled in the shadows, like specters twisting and drifting within the void. His eyes widened. No—this wasn’t the world itself. It was his vision. His very sight had been veiled, consumed by a curtain of darkness.

”Ahhh... ahhhhh!!” Robin cried again, pressing his palms harder into his skull. But this time the scream was not born from fear or panic—it was pain. A pain unlike anything he had felt before.

It was as if his head were melting, his very brain dissolving into sludge. Fire and acid seemed to pour through his mind.

”.....” Robin clenched his jaw, biting into his lip until he tasted blood, forcing himself to stop screaming. His breath trembled. Slowly, his thoughts cleared, his memory sparking to life. He remembered. He remembered everything. The desperate gamble against the King of Specters. The forbidden act he had committed for victory. The price his soul domain would pay.

He knew exactly what awaited him inside.

He had to go in. He had to see how much could still be saved.

But the thought alone made him tremble. The mere image of what damage awaited within filled him with dread so sharp his muscles seized.

”Damn... everything... damn it all...” Robin muttered, each word forced out with ragged effort. Then his strength failed him. His hands slipped away from his head, his body sagged, and his consciousness sank—down, down—into his soul domain.

Inside Robin’s Soul Domain—

Bloop

Bloop
”No...” Robin’s soul avatar—his figure entirely blackened, as though sculpted from shadow itself—stared around in horror, his voice trembling with disbelief.

BloopCrack

The earth beneath him fractured, walls splintered, ceilings caved. Trees withered into black husks. Plants shriveled into brittle ash. Towering cliffs crumbled into heaps of dust. Everything—every structure, every fragment of landscape—had turned to black stone, peeling apart like burned skin.

The ponds, once teeming with soul energy, were now pits of tar, their surfaces bubbling with grotesque, foul-smelling foam.

The small soul creatures that had once filled this place—gone. The fish, the birds, the fragile beings with sparks of life—they were all dead. Anything without strong enough awareness had perished instantly, snuffed out as if the domain itself had devoured them.

Step

Robin forced a step forward, his foot sinking into the decaying soil. ”NOO...” The words trembled from his lips. The air here was a prison, suffocating, pressing down on him like the crushing weight of the deepest seas. Every breath was poison, thick with dread, forcing him to feel as though a predator lurked behind every shadow. The darkness whispered of death, and every nerve in his body screamed to flee.

Even the ground beneath him betrayed him, softening, liquefying, sucking him downward as though he were walking atop quicksand.

Slash!

”Shaaaaaakhh//~”

From ahead, Robin caught sight of it—a specter tearing through a soul creature, shredding it apart mercilessly. Then another. Then a third. The air was filled with the sound of hunting, of butchery.

This was the only motion left in his once-thriving domain: a massacre. The slaughter of what little had survived.

Step

Robin’s foot sank deeper. His leg was trapped, sinking inch by inch, but he hardly noticed. His gaze wandered, weak and hollow. His face was pale, stricken by the sight before him.

This soul domain... it wasn’t alive. It was a corpse. A rotting zombie of what it had once been.

Why was it still moving? Why was he

still alive?!
”My Owner...”

”...?” Robin froze. His head jerked upward at the faint, trembling sound. The voice—it was familiar. Weak, but calling to him.

His eyes darted frantically, searching, until at last he looked skyward.

The fog above was thick, smothering everything in its depths. But even it could not hide the glow. A faint radiance pierced the veil—one light emerald green, flickering like a fragile flame... and another, cool and calm, shimmering in shades of deep blue.

”The two suns!!” Robin’s eyes snapped open wide, blazing with both fear and hope.

Could it be? Could the twin suns—Nihari, the eternal flame above, and Greenland, the calm celestial light—be the very reason his soul still clung to life? Were those suns, still burning with desperate defiance, fighting against the corruption that was trying to devour his domain? Were they the ones holding the decay at bay, giving him this fragile sliver of time?

”My Owneeeer—help meee!!”

”Evergreen!!” Robin roared, his voice echoing into the suffocating darkness. He twisted, struggling, kicking against the mire that clung to his legs like the grasping hands of corpses. He tried to leap upward, to rush toward that distant light, to save them. But it was like battling chains of iron forged from shadow itself. Countless specters, invisible and merciless, dragged at his limbs, anchoring him deeper into the abyss.

”My Owneeeeeeer...!!” The desperate cry ripped from his throat like a man drowning.

”Evergreen, Neri—hold on!!” Robin shouted with everything he had left. ”I’ll try—I’ll try to fix this!!” His gaze darted downward to the damp, sinking soil gnawing at his legs, pulling him lower and lower like a living swamp. Fury twisted his face. ”Damn you! You’re my domain—how dare you try to kill me?!”

With a violent motion, he thrust both hands downward. Black soul force roared forth from his palms, thick and unstable, runes etching themselves in the air like burning scars. The energy coiled into spirals, symbols glowing as though they were carved into reality itself.

Then, with a guttural cry, he unleashed it:

”Primordial Purity!!”

It was one of the sacred techniques he had crafted long ago—his answer to the threat of the black ponds, should they ever return. This art was meant to purify anything, no matter how deeply tainted, no matter how long corruption had spread. A salvation forged through endless years of thought and labor.

But...

Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhiiiiiiiii//

Nothing happened.

The mire did not retreat. The corruption did not shatter. His body only sank faster.

”What?!” Robin’s voice broke, his eyes going wide with horror. His body lurched downward, pulled with double the force, his head almost swallowed entirely. ”N-no...! Mmmmmm!!!”

In blind desperation, he squeezed his eyes shut, cutting himself off before the abyss could consume his awaress whole.

Outside once more—

”Haa... haa... haa...” Robin gasped violently, his chest heaving, every breath like fire. He rolled onto his side, his body quivering uncontrollably after being torn apart and dragged back together by that nightmarish ordeal. His sweat mixed with the black mist clinging to him. ”Damn... it all...”

The answer became clear to him at once, cold and merciless. How could he expect to purify corruption... using soul force that was already corrupted? His domain was poisoned to its core. His weapons, his hands, his very power—it was all tainted. Inside, nothing could be saved. If there was even the faintest chance, he had to find it outside.

His head throbbed like drums of war, his vision blurred almost into blindness. Still, he forced himself upright, barely holding on, his voice erupting into the darkness around him. ”Malik...! Where are you?! I need resources—materials—for a formation... I must set it up... immediately! Immediately!!”

Silence.

His voice cracked louder, more frantic. ”Malak!! Waaaade!!” He screamed until his throat tore. ”I don’t... have much time!! Where... are you two?!”

But again—no answer came. No voices. Nothing. Only the weight of silence pressing down on him like a coffin.

”Arrghhh...” Robin groaned, fury and despair twisting his face. The black canopy of the tent surrounding him turned the little vision he had into near-total blindness. Still, he forced his body to move, commanding his legs as if they were soldiers on their last march. He kicked outward—

Clank!

Several flags surrounding him collapsed from the strike. The intricate pattern they had formed unraveled instantly, the protective triple-layered formation shattering in a blink.

Robin’s breathing grew ragged. His head whipped from side to side, his movements clumsy but frantic. Panic clawed at him as his gaze scoured the shadows, searching desperately for anything, any clue, any hope of salvation.

Then his eyes caught it—another tent, smaller, dark like his own, shrouded by layers of protective flags. A triple-formation set for another. Through the haze, he strained to see. Who was inside? Malak? Waid? Someone else? His heart pounded with dread. If one of his guardians had fallen, then his plan was finished.

”Damn it...” he muttered under his breath, every word trembling. His carefully laid plan had collapsed. One was supposed to stay, to guard him while the other went to fetch the materials. But now—if either left to bring reinforcements, or to gather what was needed for the formation—he would be left here, exposed, utterly defenseless, unable to even move his soul power without destroying himself.

His eyes darted again, wider this time, desperation making his blood run cold. He scanned the surroundings like a hunted beast searching for safety. And then—he saw it.

Not far away, a figure. A body. It was human—he could tell even through his blurred, ruined vision. Definitely not a specter. But from its eyes, its nose, its ears... thick black threads oozed downward, like rivers of tar bleeding from every opening. The figure twitched faintly, but it was drenched in corruption, drowning in it.

Even through his failing sight, Robin recognized it at once. His chest tightened, his heart nearly stopped.

”...Wade?” he whispered, his voice breaking with disbelief, terror, and sorrow all at once.