Lord of the Truth

Chapter 1509: Hell

”...Wade?”

Robin’s voice trembled, thin and hoarse, as though dragged over broken glass. His eyes widened until they felt as if they might burst from their sockets, the pitch-black tears streaming down his face like molten tar, streaking his cheeks.

His very eye burned as though it were rotting away, every blink releasing more of that foul ichor. Yet even through that searing torment, he forced his body to move, his muscles quivering under the strain. With a guttural sound of willpower, he pushed himself upward, dragging his battered frame into a half-sitting posture. He braced against his right elbow, his back hunched, his breath labored.

His vision blurred and decayed, his eyes felt as though they were melting, dissolving into the very darkness they wept. Still, in that moment—just in that moment—he forgot his pain. He forgot his own misery, his ruined soul, the unbearable weight crushing him.

Because what he saw before him was worse.

Wade.

His state was dire beyond measure. The thick, black liquid oozing from his eyes, nose, and ears told the whole story, a grim proclamation of the corruption gnawing at his soul domain.

Robin’s lips parted, but no words came. His heart pounded in his chest, heavy, suffocating. He understood immediately what it meant.

Of course, Wade had not suffered the same invasive devastation that Robin had endured. But Wade’s soul domain was not as vast, not as tempered through endless battles, not built to resist collapse the way Robin’s was. A weaker soul domain needed far less to reach the point of no return. What Robin’s domain could barely withstand, Wade’s could not. His collapse was inevitable.

”...” Robin’s gaze locked like iron onto Wade’s chest, ignoring everything else.

Still... still breathing...

A shallow rise. A faint fall.

Robin exhaled slowly, his body trembling, relief flooding him for a heartbeat. That fragile breath meant Wade’s soul domain had not yet yielded. It was still resisting, still clawing against the inevitable. It meant Wade still clung to life.

If Robin were whole, if his soul had not been reduced to ruin, he could have reached out, summoned the Primordial Purification, and burned the corruption from Wade’s essence. He could have cleansed him, saved him.

But Robin was broken himself. He needed saving more than anyone. He was powerless to help.

And yet... even that shallow relief did not calm him. His hands trembled, his lips pressed thin. The weak breath was proof of life, yes—but it could vanish in an instant. The line between life and death was razor-thin. Any moment, that faint rhythm could falter, could stop forever.

BAAAM!

”Damn it!!” Robin’s body collapsed back to the floor, his skull cracking against the ground. His fists hammered against his temples as though he could beat sense into the world, as though he could erase the horror.

If Wade—Wade, the wielder of the Major Law of Space, a master of evasion, the one man whose very essence was built to escape death itself—had fallen this low, then what chance did Malik have?

His thoughts shot instantly to the other tent. The one shrouded in black, its formation pulsing faintly. The figure inside... it could only be Malak. And if Malak was there, then his state could not be better than Wade’s. No—realistically, it was worse. Perhaps Malak was already gone.

Robin’s chest tightened as the realization hit like a blade: both of his guardians—the shields he had trusted his life to—were in worse condition than he was.

What now?

He could not heal himself. He could not rise to build the formation. He could not lean on his protectors. Every path was cut off, every solution strangled. The walls were closing in.

...No. Wait.

A spark flared in his mind. Latanya. She had left hours ago, escorting the prisoners to the Grave Empire. She was strong, resourceful. If anyone could return in time, it was her. Maybe she would come back. Maybe she would save them.

But how would she find them? And even if she did, when would she?

Robin’s heart sank like a stone. His soul domain was collapsing at a pace no healer could match. If it continued, he would not survive a full day before his final breath escaped him. And Wade—Malak—neither of them would last even that long.

”...” Robin clenched his teeth, grinding them until his jaw threatened to break. He forced his eyes open, his head lolling as he scanned the cavern desperately for salvation. For anything.

But it was just a cave. A suffocating void carved into the depths of a mountain. The air was thick with negative energy, seeping endlessly from the stone. Around him, layers upon layers of formations shimmered faintly, placed with painstaking care. A sound-dampening matrix. An aura-suppression array. A seal against supernatural frequencies.

And more—the formation of the Light Path, weaving its illusion, cloaking the entrance so that from the outside, this cavern was no more than a solid cliff, a lifeless slope of stone.

His guardians had built him a fortress, a prison to contain any outburst, any uncontrolled surge of his unstable power. A cage meant to shield the world from him.

But it also meant that Latanya would never find him. Not easily. Not quickly. The very protections that kept him hidden would doom him to die unseen.

Ksshhhhh//...

Robin groaned as he forced his body backward, palms scraping raw against the ground. He dragged himself inch by inch, every movement like a war. Pain pulsed through him in waves. More than once he froze, clutching his head in both hands, fingers digging into his scalp as though holding it together, as though his skull would burst open if he let go. His groans filled the dark. Still, he pushed, dragging himself again.

Thud.

His head finally struck cold stone. He pushed further, until his back pressed against the wall. His spine locked rigid, his head leaning heavily against the surface. His breath rattled in his chest as he slid down, eyelids shutting against the weight of exhaustion.

Even breathing felt like a battle.

And yet, there was nothing wrong with his body. Nothing. The triple-formation had repaired him beyond perfection, reforming his flesh stronger than before. Every injury had been erased. Even the scars left by the Armament Bath were gone, cleansed by the hours he had spent in the Temporal Cascade Array.

His energy center blazed like a star. Brimming, unbroken. No cracks, no flaws. Thirty-one full levels, ready to ignite into combat at a thought. His body was prepared, polished to perfection, the vessel of a warrior.

But the soul...

Without it, the body was nothing but a puppet, a corpse animated by hollow strength. And now, in the depths of his collapse, his soul domain crumbling into ruin, the bond between his soul and his body was unraveling.

Breathing, once automatic, now demanded effort. His heartbeat, once steady and sure, now required conscious command. His will had to push each pulse, force each breath.

And the simple act of moving his hands—lifting his arms—it was like trying to shift the weight of entire worlds, dragging planets through the void.

And yet...

”...” Robin’s fingers twitched. His hand felt like lead, every movement tearing at the fibers of his being, but still—he forced it. With excruciating slowness, he turned his palm over and placed it shakily upon his knee. His chest rose and fell like a storm-tossed sea. With unbearable effort, he pried his eyes open.

The world blurred. His lids fluttered. But at last, his gaze fixed upon his own hand.

He stared... and stared... as if the lines of his palm held the key to salvation.

Dooooom...

A shudder echoed in his head. Shapes flickered. His vision warped.

Specters.

They began to dance at the edge of his sight, springing before his eyes like twisted children of shadow. They crawled between his fingers, coiling around his knuckles. They thickened until they filled his entire view, pressing against his perception like an army of writhing silhouettes.

Specters~ Specters~ Specters~

His heart sank. He understood the truth.

He had been sealed. Marked forever.

The curse of the specters was his.

Like one stained by their blight, he had stepped beyond the threshold—into the stage of no return.

The touch of a single specter could poison a soul domain. Just one was enough to rot the foundations of a life. But his desperate gamble, his reckless decision, had plunged him beneath the dominion of not one... not a dozen... but tens of thousands.

Alive. Breathing. Nesting inside his soul domain.

Every heartbeat, they gnawed deeper.

Every second, they eroded more.

Every moment, they dragged him closer to the abyss of death.

There was no mistake—he was dying.

His best option now was one he despised. The path the caretaker had once whispered into his ear: bury your initial soul deep, shield it with everything you have left, protect your memories. Become a conscious specter.

Like Arkalon had. Like those who chose survival at any cost.

Robin was strong enough. He could endure. He could awaken as one of them—aware, but shackled. Condemned to wander the void as a slave of corruption.

Or... he could let go.

Forget it all. Allow the collapse to consume him fully.

The all-seeing god had warned him of this fate. Death would not come as peace. Not for him. Not anymore. If he failed again, there would be no silence, no rest. He would not dissolve into nothingness.

No.

When the moment came—when he reached the very brink of death—something awaited.

The all-seeing god would appear. And he would drag Robin into that place. That eternal prison. That endless inferno.

That hell.

And there... he would be waiting.

Furious. Furious beyond comprehension. Furious at Robin for daring to fail again.

The thought should have broken him. Should have terrified him.

Instead, Robin smiled. His lips curled upward, dry and cracked, his face twitching with hysteria. A hollow laugh, weak and broken, slipped from his throat.

But it died as quickly as it came.

BAA!

His palm struck his own cheek, the sound sharp, echoing in the cavern. His head snapped to the side. The faint smile was gone, swallowed by a scowl carved deep into his features. His breathing rasped louder, uneven. His thoughts—already unstable—were unraveling faster.

His mental state was crumbling. Piece by piece.

But still... was this the end?

Was there any way out?

Perhaps.

Perhaps there was still one gamble left. A single card he could play.

Risky. Dangerous. But at this point, what choice did he have?

No hesitation. No doubt. If he faltered even a moment longer, he would be gone.

Woooooooooom...

The cavern trembled as light surged. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, the darkness parted. Robin’s body began to blaze with golden radiance, his very flesh pulsing like a beacon in the void.

It began at his neck—lines of shimmering light etching themselves into his skin like molten gold poured into cracks. The patterns twisted, interlocked, carved themselves into his shoulders, his chest, his arms. They flared, burning bright enough to pierce his robes.

But they did not stop.

The marks grew. They spread further than ever before.

Not just his arms. Not just his upper body.

They devoured him whole.

The runes crawled up the back of his head, glowing beneath every strand of hair. They raced down his legs, blazing beneath his feet. They enveloped his face, once grim and weary, now etched with luminous sigils of defiance.

Even his open mouth glowed, the faint golden light spilling from between his lips, from his very breath.

When the transformation was complete, Robin’s scowl softened. Just slightly. A faint, ghostly smile crept across his lips.

And for the first time, his voice carried clearly through the cavern.

”Heh~ Boy... this is going to hurt...”

His fingers twitched once, then snapped.

CLACK!

SHWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOSH!

Blue fire exploded from Robin’s fingertip, bursting like a second sun.

The flames were no ordinary fire—they were purgatory flame, searing, cleansing, merciless. They surged across his hand, swallowing his arm, racing up his body like a storm unleashed.

In seconds, he was engulfed.

Every inch of him burned.

”Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhh~~///!!!”

The scream that tore from his throat shook the cavern to its foundations. It was not the cry of a man in pain—it was the roar of a soul being flayed alive.