Lord of the Truth

Chapter 1808 Tragedy in Sector 100

Middle Sector 100-

”There must have been some kind of mistake in the message, right?” one officer muttered, his voice tinged with disbelief.

”Of course there must be. The Marshal himself will bring us confirmation soon,” another replied, trying to maintain calm, though the anxiety in his tone betrayed him.

”If it really

true... I fear we will be completely crushed in the coming period,” a third added, his eyes darting nervously around the massive hall.

The chamber was enormous, grand enough to host dozens of generals. Some had come in person, while others were represented by envoys, each equipped with a cross-stellar voice ring. A place that should have radiated dignity, authority, and military pride was instead thick with unease. Each person present was a veteran planetary general, someone who had faced countless campaigns, survived dozens of battles, and led fleets that could devastate entire star fields. Yet, despite their experience, none of them displayed composure. No strategic silence or carefully measured restraint.

On the contrary, every single one of them seemed on the verge of panic, their faces betraying a mix of fear, disbelief, and tension.

All eyes were fixed on Caesar, who sat at the edge of the massive table, eyes tightly shut. He had gathered them to deliver harsh and possibly devastating news, but after hearing it, every general had refused to accept it at face value. They demanded confirmation. Strangely enough, Caesar himself had gone so far as to enter the Soul Society to verify the news personally. It was clear that even he struggled to believe it.

In that tense silence, something shifted.

The hall fell suddenly quiet-the subtle twitch of Caesarʼs eyelid signaled that consciousness had returned fully to his body.

”...” Caesar slowly opened his eyes and scanned the room. His gaze was calm, steady, and unflinching, though the dozens of eyes staring back at him betrayed a mixture of fear, doubt, and anticipation.

He said nothing. Instead, he rose from his seat, his posture composed and deliberate, and began walking toward the massive balcony at the far end of the chamber. His hands were folded behind his back, his every movement

measured, purposeful, and commanding, as if the weight of the entire sector rested on his shoulders.

Then he took a deep, resonant breath-

and let out a roar.

”ААААННННННННННН-!”

”..” The generals felt an immediate weakening in their limbs. The sound was not just a scream-it was a declaration, a confirmation of the dreadful truth. The news they had feared was no longer uncertain.

Even Peon, standing stiffly at the back, felt a shiver run down his spine and tightened his brows. ”What did Theo say?” he asked quietly, almost to himself.

”...We must act immediately.” Caesarʼs voice returned, calm and measured, yet carrying the authority of absolute command. He cracked his neck left and right in a brief, controlled motion, then turned back to face the council of generals. His lips formed a deliberate, forced smile. ”Orders are orders.”

”...No one denies the authority and standing of Second Brother Theo,” Peon interjected, standing tall and rigid. His expression was metallic, almost mask-like, betraying no emotion. ”His intelligence reports direct the strategies of all three empires. But in this particular matter...” He paused, weighing his words carefully, ”...it would still be prudent to consult Father first.”

”Pointless,” Caesar said calmly, returning to his seat with measured steps. ”He already stated that these orders were issued with his agreement from the very beginning. Theo would never lie about something like this-never.”

He leaned back slightly, his eyes sweeping the hall as he addressed the generals. ”We will begin mobilizing an armada of fifty fleets, fully equipped with personnel, weapons, and supplies, to support the Crumbled Dreams Empire in Middle Sector 101. This is not open for debate or delay. Every hour counts.”

Caesar could feel the subtle physiological reactions around him: tension creeping into stiffened muscles, anger simmering in clenched jaws, frustration in grinding teeth, and the hollow feeling of despair in eyes that had seen far too much war. Even seasoned generals, accustomed to navigating crises, were shaken.

Ever since Marshal Caesar had ordered a halt to further expansion and focused on consolidating the forces remaining in their sectors-after the enemy discovered counters to the Regressive Replacement operations and the strategies for swapping armies-the army had experienced a brief period of stability. Daily, needless casualties had slowed, and morale had begun to

recover.

But this fragile equilibrium was shattered.

The enemy had interpreted the temporary pause as weakness. They had not remained defensive, as expected-they had launched their assault with renewed aggression, striking at positions that had been previously secure. The generals now realized the full gravity of the situation: they were facing not just a battle, but a storm that could overwhelm everything they had fought to

protect.

Years had dragged on since Caesarʼs decisive command and the initiation of the counteroffensive against their enemies. In all that time, somehow, miraculously, they had not lost a single planet to the advancing forces-but the cost had been

staggering.

Hundreds of thousands of soldiers had fallen in relentless battles, their lifeblood staining countless worlds. Moreover, the ambitious plans of the Empire of Tomorrow, meticulously crafted by Caesar to sway local populations and turn their allegiance, had ground to a complete halt. The people no longer cared about planets they could lose the next day; their hearts and minds had grown indifferent, even jaded, as the constant cycle of war and loss took its toll. Without the absolute dominance of a powerful military presence to safeguard every inch of territory, investing in and developing lands that could easily be overrun at any moment bordered on sheer madness. It was a dangerous gamble, one that could backfire at any time with catastrophic consequences. And as if this stagnation and attrition were not enough, an even greater threat loomed on the horizon. A coalition was in the process of forming-a coalition mediated by a formidable millennial empire-whose single-minded objective was nothing less than the eradication of the malignant tumor that was the Cradle Empire and the cleansing of the sector from their perceived evils. The coalition had already begun mobilizing armies, assembling forces with alarming efficiency. If it werenʼt for the Shadow Swordsʼ covert interventions, that millennial empire would have already succeeded in solidifying the alliance and launching a direct assault against them.

Yet their patience, Caesar knew, would not last forever. That empire coveted every forbidden Law, every terrifying innovation possessed by the Cradle Empire. They demanded access to power without suffering substantial losses themselves. And if they failed to bring the coalition together, there was little doubt they would take matters into their own hands and strike directly, without hesitation.

Even leaving aside the fate of their own planets, the century-old treasures of the Cradle Empire remained an irresistible lure, glittering with promise and unimaginable wealth. The temptation alone could incite rival empires to desperate measures, driven by greed and ambition.

And then, in the midst of all this chaos and looming danger, an order arrived: half of their fleets were to be dispatched to Medium Sector 101. ”Weʼre finished...” one of the generals muttered, his voice barely audible,

trembling with fear.

”Silence!” Caesar bellowed, his voice cutting through the room like steel. Every whisper died instantly. ”When we first ascended to the Middle Belt, did we have only dozens of war fleets? Did we rely on a handful of planets and a few wings? Now however we command hundreds of planets, many wings, and unmatched forces. We are stronger now than we have ever been! How dare you falter and feel despair just because fifty fleets are being sent elsewhere? You disappoint me-truly, you disappoint me!”

”But Marshal...” a young general dared to speak, his eyes glued to the floor, avoiding Caesarʼs piercing gaze. ”Our forces are all battling against their own... our fleets against theirs... we are already deploying every military asset, every ship, every weapon we have just to maintain our positions. If all of that were to withdraw overnight-not secretly, but openly, flags raised as the orders dictate -what would become of us?”

Caesar lifted his head slowly, his expression hardening as he fought to contain

the storm of emotions inside him. ”...If Theo and His Majesty have reached a decision, it is the right one. That is all you need to consider. Nothing else matters.” He paused, letting the weight of his words sink into the generals. Then, his tone grew sharper, more deliberate. ”...Once the withdrawal begins, we will immediately start forming elite rapid-response forces, designed to move swiftly toward areas of greatest risk. Wide-scale deployment no longer serves us, and...”

His hands clenched with such force that subtle cracks of stress echoed through the room, a physical manifestation of the tension in the hall.

”... be prepared to abandon any planet where our control falls below twenty

percent.”

A silence fell over the room. Every commander gritted their teeth, but none dared speak aloud. Had the Cradle Empire truly returned to such punishing and grueling strategies? Would they risk losing elite soldiers by throwing them endlessly into battle day and night, only to watch the planets they had bled to acquire slip through their fingers? Without the protective cover of their armadas in the skies, maintaining even twenty percent control over contested worlds would verge on impossible.

Whatever transpired in Medium Sector 101, they all understood one thing: it would have to be worth every sacrifice, every life, every ounce of blood shed.

Every decision made in the coming days would determine not only the fate of the sector but the very legacy of the Cradle Empire itself.

The generals knew, deep down, that the storm was coming-and the universe would watch, silent, as they braced for the trials ahead.

Whatever happens in Sector 101 Middle...

Itʼs best if itʼs worth it!!