Lord of the Truth

Chapter 1575: Failure

”...After four hundred long years, how many of them are still alive?” Jabba asked with a grave seriousness, his tone heavy with the weight of history. ”From the way you spoke earlier, it didn’t seem like you carried a personal grudge against anyone. Surely, then, the Nihari Giants must still be thriving somewhere, living strong and prosperous... isn’t that right?”

”...” Robin kept his gaze fixed forward, his expression unreadable. ”I am still a man in the end, not some flawless, detached being. It is only natural for me to take things personally, especially when those matters involved the brutal murder of my wife... the merciless torture of my son... and yes, even my own torment when I was still in the academy. Do you not remember the days when they threw me into the circus like an animal for spectacle?” He gave a dry shrug of his shoulders. ”There were so many vile encounters with them that at times I truly felt as though the heavens themselves were plotting to annihilate their race through me.”

”Lord Robin...” Jabba’s face flushed crimson as he fought to contain his rising anger, ”is there truly not a single one of the Nihari Giants left alive today?”

Thwack!

”Just before you activated this array, you addressed me as ’Master,’ your words filled with respect, and now you revert to ’Lord Robin’ as though I were a stranger?” Robin turned sharply and smacked the back of Jabba’s head again, his patience thinning. ”How long must I continue treating you like a reckless adolescent, speaking to you in simple terms so you’ll understand? You are supposed to be a prodigy—start acting like one!”

”And what in the hells am I supposed to say when you’re practically admitting you wiped them all out?!” Jabba shot back, his voice rising despite himself.

”...I didn’t exterminate every last one of them.” Robin waved his hand casually, letting out a long sigh. ”What I did was open a door for them. I gave them the chance to transform, using the purifying blood of Crexus, into something new—a different lineage altogether. I encouraged the process, even issued generous rewards for any who undertook it. Of course, any self-respecting race would normally recoil at such an idea. Who would so easily cast aside their ancestral skin, their very heritage, merely for the promise of a few benefits? But guess what happened?”

”...” Jabba’s eyes widened, disbelief stretching across his face.

”Heh... You really do know your people better than I do.” Robin chuckled, his voice filled with both irony and amusement. ”More than ninety-nine percent of them volunteered for the transformation. It is no exaggeration to say that the Nihari Giants no longer exist. Their name has been replaced by what is now known as the Crexians.”

Of course, there were many other hidden factors Robin chose not to reveal. He had spread carefully crafted rumors and damning stories, painting the Nihari Giants as little more than devils in the eyes of all other races, until even the Nihari Giants themselves began to believe that their very act of breathing was a gift granted by him.

Then there was Kandal, along with his enslaved followers—giants themselves—who preached that transformation was salvation, equating it to entry into paradise. Those who opposed it were branded as traitors, silenced, or shackled. But Jabba... Jabba did not need to know any of that.

”...” With visible difficulty, Jabba finally lowered his gaze to the massive array glowing beneath their feet. His voice was quiet, heavy. ”So in the end, you did what I feared most. You brought about the extinction of the Nihari Giants. My concerns were not unfounded after all.”

”I wouldn’t call it extinction,” Robin replied calmly, shaking his head. ”It was their choice to change, not mine to force. Search the records of history if you like—you will not find a single instance of compulsory transformation.” He leaned back slightly. ”And besides... they weren’t all erased. There is still a small village, isolated, where a handful of giants remain.”

”...?!” Jabba’s head snapped toward him instantly. ”An entire village of giants still exists?”

”Mhm.” Robin nodded with certainty. ”Every surviving Nihari Giant is either enslaved in the demon-flesh farms... or they reside in that village. A few hundred of them, no more. They live quietly, sustaining themselves with farming and simple woodworking. They are forbidden from cultivating energy in any shape, but at the same time, no one is allowed to bully or harm them either. You could call it a closed-off, protected community.”

A faint, almost bitter smile crept across Jabba’s lips. ”...Or I could call it exactly what it is: a consolation prize. A handful of pet-like remnants, given to me so I won’t cry too loudly about the racial annihilation you brought upon the Nihari Giants.”

”Heh. You could say that too.” Robin nodded a few times, as though unbothered by the accusation. His eyes glimmered faintly. ”So then, Jabba... do you like the gift?”

There was no need to embellish the truth with illusions. Jabba understood all too well the depth of Robin’s hatred toward the Nihari Giants; it was the very reason he had severed ties with his own kin long ago. He was far too perceptive, far too intelligent, to ever believe the convenient story that every giant had suddenly, unanimously, and willingly chosen to abandon their bloodline and transform into something else overnight.

”...” For several long, heavy seconds, Jabba remained silent, his jaw tightening as if weighing the last remnants of pride in his heart. Then, with a slow, weary nod, he finally spoke. ”A gift accepted. It is better than nothing... At the very least, I will not leave this world burdened with the feeling that the bloodline of my ancestors ended while I’m still around.”

”Hm? Leave for where exactly?” Robin turned his head toward him, his expression caught between amusement and disbelief, a faint smile curling on his lips. ”Are you speaking about going to the village? Have you forgotten yourself, little Jabba? You are human now. If you step into that village in such a form, they will not welcome you as kin. They will treat you with suspicion, with fear, and they will most certainly report you to the authorities.”

”...Yes, I know.” Jabba slowly raised his hands, gazing at them with a strange mix of detachment and grief. He turned them over, palm to back, as the dim light caught the protruding veins and the faint wrinkles of his transformed flesh. His fingers flexed awkwardly, as if they still belonged to a stranger’s body. He was like a man not yet reconciled with the very vessel that carried his soul. At last, he lifted his eyes back toward Robin, his voice quieter now. ”...May I make a request?”

”Go ahead,” Robin answered with calm authority, his nod steady, though curiosity flickered in his gaze.

”...I was never a good son to my tribe—I was the one who shattered them. I was never a good disciple to you—for it was I who severed the bond we shared. I was never a good leader to the Nihari Union Sect—for because of me, they fractured and fell into chains. And I was never a worthy descendant of the Nihari Giants—for while I lived, their lineage was nearly erased. I am a failure through and through, and I have always known this.” Jabba’s lips curved into the faintest, most fragile smile, though his eyes glistened with unrestrained tears as he looked toward the side of Robin’s head, unable to meet him fully.

He drew a sharp breath and pressed on, his words trembling with a desperate resolve. ”Today, I cannot restore my tribe. I cannot mend the Nihari Union Sect. It is far, far too late to save my race. All of those Chapters have closed, sealed beyond recall. But there is one thing I can still attempt to set right—if you grant me permission. And it just so happens to be the greatest regret buried in my heart...”

With those words, Jabba moved. Slowly, almost reverently, he lowered himself down. His knees touched the ground with a dull thud, and he sank onto them as though they might shatter beneath the weight of his guilt. With deliberate care, he bent forward, lowering his head until his forehead pressed against the cold floor. His body trembled faintly as if releasing years of pent-up torment. ”Please... accept me once more as your disciple. This time, I swear I will never leave your side—not for as long as breath remains within me.”

”...” A long silence stretched between them. Then, at last, Robin’s stern face softened into a wide, satisfied smile, one that carried not just pride but also relief. Extending his hand, he gently brushed it across Jabba’s head with paternal warmth. ”Rise. If I were in your place, I would have chosen the same path. But remember your promise this time, understood?”

”Thank you... Master...” Jabba’s voice wavered, weakened, yet filled with sincerity. ”I will remember...” He remained prostrated, forehead still pressed to the ground, his words softening to a whisper that seemed to bleed into the silence of the chamber. ”Jabba... will die... as your disciple... That... is beyond dispute...”

”Haha, good.” Robin chuckled, though unease stirred faintly in his chest. He patted Jabba’s head again, his hand lingering as though trying to anchor him in the present moment.

Yet as seconds passed, a discomfort grew in him at seeing Jabba so unmoving, so still.

But no reply came.

”Hey... enough games. Quit mocking me, boy!” Robin called again, a note of urgency creeping into his voice. He gave Jabba a light slap to the side of his head, intending to rouse him. ”Come on, get up already and let’s—”

Puff

At that touch, Jabba’s kneeling form shuddered weakly, his body swaying as if the last of his strength had been jarred loose. Then, with a soft thud, he toppled over onto his side, collapsing without a flicker of movement, without even a final word.