Lord of the Truth

1073  Grand Soul Master

BAAANG BAAANG

"177,000 soul units..." Pythor's enormous eyes widened to their limits. For a moment, he forgot he was being attacked by six soul creatures. This time, he chose to believe Robin Burton.

SWOOSH SWOOSH The ten colossal silver swords had finished annihilating the purple cloud completely, shredding it to pieces. Without hesitation, they redirected toward Pythor with deadly intent.

KRRRRR Pythor shifted his head to glance toward the main battlefield. The mere friction of his scales as he moved created a sound that felt as though an entire village was shifting from its place.

Calculating everything Robin Burton had deployed so far—the ten swords, the Marshals, the Father Tree, and the 106 soul creatures that were as strong as high level martial emperors— the estimated total force would be around 75,000 soul units.

The moment Robin unleashed those 75,000 units, they were immediately consumed from his soul reserves. Each passing minute, the summoned soul creatures drained more and more energy to maintain their corporeal forms, and every injury they sustained demanded even greater consumption to restore them to their prime condition. Factoring in these ongoing expenditures, another 50,000 units could be added to Robin's expenditure thus far.

This meant that, up to this moment, Robin had already expended 125,000 soul units... Which means he still had 52,000 units remaining.

Robin Burton... he was using the colossal Father Tree to fight alongside Sakaar and the other pillars of his empire. He was employing 102 soul creatures to support his main army, and now he was pouring more and more of his soul force into his own duel. What was terrifying was that he still had enough energy reserves to sustain all these battlefronts for at least another hour.

This is what it means to have a Soul Master as an enemy!

Why did someone so young, not even two centuries old, possess such power? How could someone who had never set foot in the middle planetary belt reach such a level? How did a mere human develop all these advanced techniques?!

Pythor's eyes began to glow with a fierce, blinding purple light. "Robin Burton..." A thick killing intent clouded his vision entirely.

"..." Robin furrowed his brows and then waved his hand with force. The ten mighty swords launched toward Pythor's neck like a barrage of meteorites.

BAAAM BAAAM Each of these swords carried an impact equivalent to an all-out strike from someone like Celebus, yet they barely managed to pierce through the thick scales before halting in place.

"RAAWWRR!!" The six monstrous soul creatures continued their relentless assault on Pythor's colossal body with everything they had—claws, fangs, fists—each of them desperate to be the one to please their master by bringing down the great serpent. However, none could penetrate a single scale; at most, they were able to hold him down.

Clatter Pythor coiled his massive body tightly, his thick, muscular form contracting like a steel spring under immense pressure. Every scale along his colossal body glowed with a faint, ominous sheen, reflecting the chaotic energy rippling through the battlefield. And then— BAM!—with explosive force, he unleashed his tail in a devastating arc. The sheer velocity of the impact sent shockwaves through the air, launching three soul creatures skyward as if they were mere leaves caught in a violent storm. Their bodies twisted and flailed helplessly before they crashed into the distant rubble.

Before the dust could settle, Pythor's tail descended once more with earth-shattering force, crushing the fourth soul beast outright. A sickening crunch echoed through the battlefield, followed by a tremor that rattled the bones of every observer.

"Hssss!!" A venomous hiss escaped Pythor's maw as his cavernous jaws snapped shut with deadly precision. His fangs, each longer than a full grown human, sank effortlessly into the flesh of the gorilla-like soul creature. The beast's muffled roar of agony barely lasted a moment before Pythor's jaw muscles contracted, sending it hurtling through the air like a missile toward the sixth soul beast.

Swoosh! Swoosh! Robin Burton stood firm amidst the chaotic battlefield, his brows tightly knit, eyes locked onto the three horned serpent. Around him, the soul beasts tumbled and crashed, their once-confident assault reduced to scattered fragments under Pythor's onslaught.

Pythor's cold, reptilian eyes glowed with malicious delight as his voice rumbled like distant thunder.

"Robin Burton..." he sneered, his voice thick with venomous hatred. "So what if you're a Grand Soul Master with 177 thousand Soul Units? Perhaps I would have fled from you in the Middle Belt if I had known your true strength... If you had concentrated a single attack using 5 thousand units, I might already be dead. But..."

His massive frame coiled menacingly, and his pupils narrowed to razor-thin slits. "...Here, I am still the strongest. And today... will be the day I proudly declare that I have slain a Grand Soul Master!"

A sinister crackling filled the air as Pythor's immense form tensed. Then—CRACKLE!—with a burst of speed that defied his size, he shot forward like a lightning bolt, the ground beneath him exploding into a cloud of debris.

"This is bad!" Robin's instincts kicked in instantly. With a blur of motion, he activated Time Flash, teleporting multiple times in rapid succession to evade the monstrous serpent's relentless pursuit. But Pythor's speed was terrifying.

"You won't escape!!" Pythor's voice roared across the battlefield, shaking the earth with raw fury. His jaws opened wide, revealing an abyss of swirling purple mist—the ominous prelude to an attack empowered by the deadly Minor Heavenly Law of Corrosion.

Robin's heart pounded as he realized the gravity of the situation. Pythor had positioned himself perfectly—if Robin dodged, the corrosive attack would obliterate his entire demon army behind him. A cold sweat trickled down his brow.

The thick, purple mist churned violently within Pythor's throat, preparing for release. "Fwooooaa---"

Suddenly —BZZZT!— a deafening sound split the air. Ten mighty swords lodged deep into Pythor's thick neck began to spin simultaneously like drills, their sharp edges tearing into his scaly hide.

"HSSS!!!" Pythor writhed in agony, the piercing force not strong enough to break through his formidable scales but they still cause excruciating pain. His jaws trembled, but with sheer willpower, he forced them open, determined to release the devastating attack.

BAM! BAM! In a synchronized strike, the six surviving soul beasts sprang into action, launching themselves onto Pythor's head with unwavering resolve. Three latched onto his massive horns, trying to drag his head down. Another targeted his left eye, delivering relentless blows, while a fourth hammered against the energy crystal embedded in his forehead. The largest among them took the ultimate risk—diving straight into Pythor's gaping maw, blocking his throat entirely.

BOOOOOOM!!!

A massive explosion erupted inside Pythor's mouth. His colossal body convulsed violently, toppling sideways in a thunderous crash that sent tremors rippling across the battlefield.

But—BOOF! BOOF!—the soul beast that had sacrificed itself inside his throat disintegrated entirely under the pressure of the corrosive energy. The dense purple cloud erupted outward, engulfing the remaining soul beasts in its deadly embrace. They vanished in an instant, reduced to nothingness. Even the ten mighty swords lodged in his flesh crackled before breaking apart into fragments, dissipating into the void.

BOOOOOOOOM!!!

Pythor's enormous form collapsed fully, the battlefield trembling under his weight. A hush fell over the chaos, all eyes fixated on the scene in a mixture of awe and dread.

Robin narrowed his eyes, his breathing heavy but controlled. He extended a hand, activating the Eye of Truth, peering through the dense cloud of dust and smoke. His heart pounded—he had sacrificed approximately 13 thousand Soul Units for this intricate plan... and they just evaporated.

The battlefield held its breath. Neither side dared to celebrate victory or mourn defeat just yet.

And then—

"Robin... Burton..."

The voice that echoed through the mist sent shivers down his spine.

As the dust settled, Pythor's colossal form loomed once again. Despite the catastrophic explosion inside his throat, despite the carnage inflicted upon him—he still stood. His lower jaw hung loosely, heavily damaged. One of his enormous fangs had been shattered, and the mantis-like soul beast had gouged out one of his reptilian eyes before meeting its end. Yet none of these injuries were fatal.

Robin exhaled a long, weary sigh. The battle was far from over. Pythor had sustained damage, but it wasn't enough. Meanwhile, Robin's Soul Units were dwindling at an alarming rate.