Lord of the Truth

Beneath the colossal shadow of the tower, Robin casually made his way to the main entrance, a calm and pleasant smile on his face. His gaze rose up for a brief moment, admiring the enormous silver structure that pierced the skies like a divine needle, then he looked forward and asked politely, "Excuse me, is this the headquarters of the Soul Society?"

The being guarding the entrance was nothing short of alien—so utterly foreign that even Robin, who had seen more than his share of oddities across planets, paused for a moment in intrigue. The creature possessed eight eyes, each of them constantly shifting positions across its face like tiles in a mystical puzzle. Its four arms were folded behind its back in eerie stillness, and it had no visible ears, nor any discernible nose or typical facial structure. It was clear from the start—this being wasn't humanoid in the slightest. Not even close.

Yet, Robin didn't feel uncomfortable. He had grown used to the unpredictable diversity of the cosmos. In the age of interplanetary openness, language barriers were a thing of the past. Advanced translation technologies—some built into the air itself, others woven into the spiritual matrix of the universe—made sure everyone could communicate, no matter their origin. As long as the will to speak existed, understanding would follow.

As expected, the creature responded in a strange, layered voice that vibrated slightly in the air. "Do you wish to collect a package, or are you seeking entry into the Society?"

"I want to access the Society," Robin responded immediately, without pause or thought.

"..."

The creature's eight eyes scanned Robin from head to toe, in slow, deliberate motions. It was like being examined by a sentient surveillance system. "Is this your first time visiting?"

"Yes," Robin nodded confidently, without hesitation. There was no point in pretending otherwise.

The gatekeeper gave a slow nod and extended one of its arms, pointing toward a smaller, slightly recessed side door. "Proceed to registration through that entrance."

"Hm?" Robin turned to look, eyes narrowing at the small, modestly designed door. It was not at all what he expected for an organization so renowned. Still, he made his way toward it. As he stepped inside, the atmosphere changed—quieter, more focused. Instead of lines or crowds, there was only one attendant behind a smooth, minimalistic desk.

The woman was... unusual, to say the least. Her head was bulbous and round, resembling a large onion, and her mouth stretched unnaturally wide across her lower face. She didn't lift her gaze immediately, but when she finally did, it was slow and deliberate.

"Welcome," she said in a slow, slightly monotone voice. "Please step into that circle. Do not move. And do not worry. Your personal information will remain confidential, under the direct protection of Dreamer Morpheus himself."

"Oh, this one?" Robin noticed the rune-covered circle etched into the ground in front of her and stepped into it with casual confidence. He didn't even pause to consider what 'confidentiality' might mean in such a place.

"Hmm?"

The moment both feet touched the circle, a luminous ring rose from the floor and began scanning his body. It moved slowly, as if savoring every detail, reading his composition not just physically—but spiritually, metaphysically. It passed over his arms, his chest, his face, his hair... then vanished.

Moments later, a pen on the woman's desk floated into the air, as if drawn by an invisible hand, and began scribbling quickly on a parchment scroll. When it finished, it dropped back onto the table with a soft click.

Without looking at the scroll or touching it with any kind of spiritual sense, the woman picked it up, slid it forward toward Robin, and said, "Here. This is your identification number. With it, you may access the Spirit Society and collect any personal deliveries. The Society is not responsible for any damage, loss, or consequences resulting from this number being leaked. You are advised to memorize it in your own way and destroy the scroll afterward. Is that clear?"

"..."

Robin accepted the parchment with his right hand. His expression shifted slightly as his eyes scanned its contents. It contained not only his exact physical age, but also his accurate soul age, his species and gender, a general illustration of his body, and—most alarming of all—a statement confirming that he was a practitioner of the Law of Truth!

And beneath all that, a colossal numerical identifier—a sixteen-digit code, completely unique.

Still, Robin didn't even blink. A single glance was all it took. Shwaaalaaa! The number was burned into his mind with perfect clarity. Without delay, he raised his hand and destroyed the scroll with a small pulse of spiritual fire. "Understood."

Robin wasn't even slightly bothered by the fact that the scanning device had extracted so much from him—perhaps even far more than what had appeared on the scroll. He was well aware that the attendant hadn't even read it. The real analysis had already happened elsewhere. That information had likely been transmitted to some deeply protected data center within the Soul Society's system. They probably knew more about his body now than he knew about himself.

But really, what could he do about it?

He was in the Mid-Belt planetary region. If he wanted access to the network, if he wanted to use their services then he had to abide by their rules. It was their game in the end.

"Very well. At this point, all that's left is to pay the operational fee for the access chamber. Once that's done. you may proceed inside," the onion-faced woman said, her voice calm and measured. She gestured lazily toward a specific zone off to the side, before returning to her slow, deliberate task of arranging the pen and scrolls on her desk. Each movement she made was methodical, almost ceremonial, as if the simple act of tidying her station carried some unseen weight.

"Thank you," Robin replied courteously with a smile, giving her a polite nod before making his way toward the area she had indicated.

He stepped into a massive hall—circular in shape and utterly colossal—its sheer size enough to make one feel insignificant. The room extended so far in every direction that it seemed to challenge his perception of scale. The entire circumference of the chamber's curved walls was covered with rows upon rows of sealed doors, placed evenly and precisely. With just a casual sweep of his eyes, Robin could estimate that there were several hundred identical entryways, each one closed and silent, their purposes hidden behind uniform exteriors.

At the very heart of this massive, glowing room stood a modest reception counter, small when compared to the scale of the hall but noticeable due to the warm presence of its attendants. Four young employees—two males and two females, each from clearly different species—stood behind the desk, wearing coordinated uniforms. Their postures were upright, their smiles bright and rehearsed, giving the impression of warm efficiency.

"Hello there!" Robin greeted them with a wave and a friendly tone. "I'd like to rent an access chamber."

"Of course, sir," one of the women responded immediately, stepping forward with the air of someone who had repeated these exact words a thousand times. "The standard activation fee is 70 liters of sealed energy essence per day."

Whistle~

Robin let out a quiet, impressed whistle, his eyes widening slightly in surprise. Just moments earlier, he'd been mildly puzzled as to why there was no charge for the initial registration. Now he understood. That part had been complimentary only because the real cost came later.

Seventy liters? That was more than a casual fee—that was a statement. A show of exclusivity. A price tag that said only serious cultivators, scholars, or the truly wealthy were welcome here.

To put it in perspective: even the entire floor of a high-end hotel—complete with personal service, luxurious meals, cultivation resources, and advanced security—usually didn't cost more than 10 liters per day.

"Hmm," Robin muttered, tapping the ring on his finger. Instantly, a large amount of raw energy essence swirled out of the ring and floated in front of him, suspended in a glowing orb.

"Will this do?" he asked casually, as if he were offering pocket change.

"I'm sorry, sir," the receptionist said kindly but firmly, her smile unwavering. "We only accept sealed energy essence, certified by the Interplanetary Council or any other recognized universal authority. If you like, you can visit the Galactic Council's official banking branch just down the corridor and have your essence converted into valid currency."

Robin blinked, then let out a sigh of mild exasperation. "Sealed currency? Oh, you mean those blue vials?"

He recalled the scene back at the Seven Spirits Clan examination, where the mustached man had used those exact crystal-blue containers to pay the proctors. They were sleek, compact, and clearly standardized—ready for interstellar trade.

Robin scratched his head. He really didn't want to walk away now, not when he was standing at the very gates of the Soul Society, something he had dreamed about for a long time.

So—shoo—he withdrew the floating essence and returned it to his spatial ring, then pulled out a small, glowing Energy Pearl.

"How about this?"

"Of course, sir," the receptionist said, her eyes lighting up as both of her hands extended forward. "An Energy Pearl is equivalent to 100 liters of certified energy essence."

"Perfect," Robin grinned. "Keep the change!"

He gently tossed the Power Pearl into her hands. The moment he said that, Robin could feel the subtle shift in the air—the flash of envy from the other three attendants behind the desk, who tried to keep smiling despite the tension in their auras.

"What's next?" Robin asked, brushing imaginary dust from his shoulder.

"Thank you very much, sir," the receptionist said with a formal nod. "Please proceed to Access Chamber 707. It has now been reserved for you and will remain active for a full planetary cycle—one complete day."

She gestured toward a specific door on the chamber's far side.

Robin turned to look. At first glance, it was just another one of the many closed doors—nothing distinguished it. But then—

Krrrrk…

The door began to lower slowly into the floor, as though sinking into an unseen mechanism. A second panel descended from above, sliding down smoothly into place. Shrrrk. A low hiss echoed across the hall as the panel clicked into position and then partially opened, just enough for one person to enter.

"Whoa…" Robin exhaled softly, entranced by the smooth mechanical ballet. Not wasting another second, he strode forward, eagerness in every step.

Click!

As soon as he stepped inside, the door closed silently behind him, sealing the room with a quiet finality.

He didn't bother looking back.

Because what he saw next claimed all of his attention.

The chamber before him was… indescribable.

It felt like stepping into the core of a star—a realm of endless radiance.

The walls were so white, so blindingly bright, that they erased all sense of distance. There were no visible edges, no ceiling, no corners—nothing to give context or scale. One couldn't tell whether the room was as small as a closet or extended to infinity. It was as if space itself had been overwritten.

And in the center of it all stood a single object: a chair, plain and silent, waiting only a few steps away.

Robin stood still for a moment, absorbing the surreal atmosphere. Then, calmly, he approached the chair, sat down, closed his eyes...

HUUUUMMMMMM…