Lord of the Truth

"…How are the other fronts against them faring?" Renara asked with visible difficulty, her voice laced with concern after a prolonged, heavy silence.

Darmik responded, his tone laced with both frustration and warning. "What was once a widespread conflict across twenty-two battleground planets—thirteen under our control, nine under theirs—has now narrowed dramatically. We've been forced back. The war has shrunk… and it now rages on only five planets, Your Majesty. And every single one of those planets belongs to us."

He paused, his fists clenching at his sides, his voice sharpening. "They've changed tactics. I fear the days of scattered skirmishes, hit-and-run raids, and contained battles are long gone—for them, at least. What they're planning now is different. Much more calculated. They're focusing their entire might onto a few specific fronts, compressing the war into razor-sharp points of attack, with the clear goal of tearing planets away from us one by one… until nothing remains."

He inhaled, then continued, his voice low but filled with weight. "And when you look at the timeframe outlined in their recent treaties… I dread to say it, but I believe they intend to carry out this systematic destruction within the next five hundred years."

Renara's composure cracked. Her voice rose, the fire in her tone unmistakable. "That's absurd! You're telling me that in just half a millennium, they plan to annihilate our military forces entirely? Have you lost your mind, Darmik?!"

The force behind her words echoed across the hall, startling even some of the guards stationed nearby. Her expression was one of disbelief mixed with rising indignation.

Darmik bowed his head slightly, showing respect but not backing down. "I apologize if my words sound extreme, Your Majesty. I speak not to alarm you, but because I must speak the truth. I ask only this—can you, with certainty, say I am mistaken?"

He looked directly into her eyes. "Given the ferocity with which they now press their attacks… and the immense wealth Luciander is beginning to accumulate… I am genuinely afraid. Unless we act decisively, I fear we could lose at least half of our territory—nearly forty or more of our planets—within the coming five centuries."

He gritted his teeth, the pressure building in his voice. "Right now, we hold eighty-five planets. It's not ideal, but it's sustainable… for now. But if we fall beneath sixty planets, Your Majesty—if we reach that number—our prestige, our reputation, everything we've built over the last two million years… it will crumble. Our standing in Sector 100 of the Middle Territories will disintegrate before our eyes."

Renara released a long, measured breath. Her gaze drifted to the floor for a moment as if searching for something hidden within the stone. "…We will weather the storm. It's not the first time we've found ourselves surrounded."

Darmik's voice hardened further. "Forgive me, but that's simply not true this time. This war is different. They've evolved, and we haven't kept pace. Unless we mirror their commitment—unless you command a full mobilization of all our legions, of every resource and reserve we can muster—unless we strike back hard and fast… I fear the moment for recovery will pass us by."

He paused again, his brow furrowed, his tone now edged with bitterness. "That's assuming… we even have the wealth left to wage such a war."

Renara's expression changed. She turned away slightly, her voice quieter. "The investment will bear fruit. We only need patience."

The investment she referred to was the colossal sum of 118 million energy pearls—an amount that stunned even the most veteran rulers—used to purchase fleets of Interstellar Scout Ships. It had been one of the most controversial decisions in the history of the Nine Paths Empire. The Lords of the Nine Halls, the elite powerholders who presided over the empire's internal affairs, had erupted in outrage.

They summoned emergency councils, held formal denunciations, and accused her of betraying the very foundation of their economy. To them, it was madness—an irrational sacrifice. A quarter of the empire's entire accumulated energy pearls they gathered over the course of seven million painstaking years, spent not on war, defense, or expansion… but on acquiring Interstellar Scout Ships meant not for the Nine Paths Empire, but for a distant, barely-known faction in the Young Belt.

But Renara had stood firm. She had enacted the order despite every voice raised against her—because she was, without question, the single most powerful being in the empire.

"Yes… that's exactly what you said back then, without offering any proper explanation," Darmik spat bitterly. "But don't you think the wait has been too long? A full century has passed since you made that investment. And what do we have to show for it? What benefit have our so-called 'trade allies' brought us? Aside from that one golden division stationed on Orlando Planet… nothing!"

He waved his arm in frustration, the tension in the room thickening.

Renara flinched slightly at the mention of Orlando. Her voice was quick and sharp, deflecting the conversation. "Tell me about the other war fronts. What's the situation beyond the Twilight Specters?"

Darmik exhaled slowly, his weariness visible. "…As you're well aware, we're still at war with six other empires. Fortunately, most of these conflicts remain localized—planet-against-planet disputes. We've intentionally kept our forces minimal on those fronts to avoid escalation. We dare not turn them into full-scale existential wars like the one we're trapped in now."

He closed his eyes for a moment, as if holding back a surge of anger. "But those bastards… the moment they saw how dire things had become for us against the Twilight Specters, they acted. Every last one of them sent reinforcements to their battlefronts. All of them are now mobilizing. Preparing to strike. Preparing to end their conflicts while we're still weak."

"Especially the Iron Boar Empire," Darmik said through gritted teeth, his voice low but burning with suppressed rage. "They were the very first to respond. Fifty years ago, they sent a full auxiliary army to Orlando Planet, intent on seizing it from us in a swift, overwhelming strike. Had reinforcements not arrived at the exact critical moment they did, I have no doubt—none at all—that the planet would have been lost."

His hand trembled slightly before curling into a tight, trembling fist. His knuckles cracked audibly under the pressure.

"We cannot allow those accursed pigs to continue acting with impunity. Once the matter with the Twilight Specters is resolved—even partially—we must direct all our remaining might toward them. They must be reduced to ash. Their empire must be razed to the ground at the earliest possible opportunity. It's a matter of principle now."

"Orlando Planet cannot fall," Renara stated firmly, her voice cutting through the tension like a blade. Her brows drew together, her expression growing steely. "Not now. Not while the entire structure of our empire teeters on the edge."

Orlando wasn't just any mineral world. It was a planetary vault of essential resources—rare alloys, energy-reactive ores, and high-density minerals crucial for forging sovereign-grade armaments and enhancing large-scale defensive formations. Losing it would not only be a logistical disaster—it would be symbolic, a crack in the façade of their dominance.

For over fourteen thousand years, they had engaged in bitter, relentless conflict with the Iron Boar Empire over this single planet. It was an ancient wound that never closed, a war that reignited like wildfire every few centuries, with neither side able to hold the world for long before the other struck back with vengeance.

"Of course, Your Majesty," Darmik responded with heavy solemnity. "But let's be realistic. Aside from the garrison we already have stationed there, we can't spare even a single extra division. And truthfully... I came here to request the opposite—to propose a strategic withdrawal. I believe we should pull our forces back from the six secondary fronts and reassign them, even temporarily, to confront the Twilight Specters directly. This is no longer a border conflict—this is a war of survival."

Renara's voice rose, sharp with authority. "Impossible! Do you honestly believe those six empires will show restraint if we pull away? No, Darmik. I promise you, the moment we divert our attention, they will descend upon another of our holdings like vultures to a carcass."

She slammed her palm onto the edge of the stone table. "When the calf stumbles, every dog bares its teeth and readies for the feast."

"I am fully aware of that, Your Majesty," Darmik said, nodding grimly. "But the Iron Boar Empire is not waiting anyway. Our scouts confirm they are assembling another army to launch a second assault on Orlando. Their previous reinforcements may have been thwarted, but they've learned. Their next move will be smarter. Stronger."

He hesitated, then added with urgency, "Unless… unless you are able to request further support from those trading allies. That might quiet the Lords of the Nine Halls for a time—reassure them that the pearls were not spent in vain."

"…Tell me more," Renara sighed, rubbing her temple, exhaustion creeping into her voice.

"Fifty years ago," Darmik began, "under your direct command, we purchased an advanced set of defensive arrays from that empire in the Young Belt. But the price wasn't measured in pearls alone. As part of the deal, they requested we allow one of their elite units to undergo a thirty-year integration deployment within our military."

He paused, then continued, "We didn't want to accept it, but your orders were absolute. So we welcomed them—begrudgingly. To avoid disrupting critical fronts, we stationed them far from our primary warzones, relegating them to Orlando Planet. It seemed harmless. They'd train quietly, observe, and be gone. But just three months after they arrived, the Iron Boar Empire launched their invasion."

Darmik's eyes narrowed as if replaying the memory in his mind.

"And then something… unexpected happened. Despite having a full garrison on the planet—one of our better ones, mind you—they broke. Collapsed within hours of the initial strike. Yet that golden unit, that single division of three thousand martial emperors and thirty War Domination Array, stood their ground. They repelled the entire invading army by themselves. No backup. No retreat."

Renara's eyes widened, shock flashing across her face for a fleeting second.

"Their leader is a human named Raiden, I believe." Darmik continued. "He is a strong level 50 Martial Emperor Realm. His control over lightning is... unnatural. Some say he is lightning, not merely a user of it."

He drew in a breath. "The surviving members of our garrison claim he's untouchable below the World Cataclysm Realm. They saw him cut down officers of the Iron Boar elite with terrifying ease—alone, without assistance."

Darmik looked downward now, his tone carrying a reluctant admission of truth.

"Our stationed forces there… they're effectively useless in the face of a true invasion. The only thing of any worth are the generals strong enough to survive a Cataclysm-level confrontation—and even they serve one purpose: shielding the golden division from enemy World Cataclysms while that golden division handles everything else."

He clenched his teeth.

"In short… they are defending our territory, not us. And that's the hard truth."