Lord of the Truth

"…Is that… a Grade Four Planet-displacement Tool?" Robin muttered in disbelief, his voice nearly cracking from the sheer shock. "Description: An artifact capable of relocating an entire planet to any random or specific location within the same sector. Enters a dormant state for six months following each usage."

His heart skipped a beat. His pupils dilated. This was no ordinary item—it was the treasure he had been dreaming of, yearning for, and planning around for decades. "It's… it's real? It actually exists? And it's for sale?! Impossible! Since when?!"

His fingers danced across the control panel like a man possessed, rushing into the auction listing with the urgency of someone discovering a lost heirloom. Data loaded instantly. "It was posted… 130 years ago?!"

BAAM!

The sharp crack of his hand striking the armrest echoed throughout the platform.

"What the hell is Rinara doing?!" he roared, eyes blazing with a mix of betrayal and confusion. "How could she keep this from me? This isn't a trivial detail—this changes everything!"

A century ago, he had ascended to the imperial throne. It had been a monumental moment, one that solidified his rule over the empire and began a new era of celestial dominance. In those early days, he'd forged a personal pact with Rinara—entrusting her, his closest spiritual advisor and resource overseer, with a single mission: Find me a Tier Three Planet-displacement Tool. That was his request, loud and clear.

And yet… this listing predated even that moment. It had been available thirty years before he even took the throne. And she'd said nothing?

Even if, by some wild twist of fate, she had missed it then, how could she have failed to notice it for the next entire century? Just two days ago, he'd asked her again, and her reply had been a clueless, dismissive: "There's nothing available right now."

<I'm not sure who this Lady Rinara you're referring to is, Mr.Human,> the fairy interrupted gently, her voice light yet respectful. <But perhaps… you may want to scroll down and review the rest of the details.>

"Hmm?" Robin pulled his mind back from the storm of frustration and allowed himself to glance back at the floating control panel. With a breath held in his lungs, he read further.

His eyes locked on a line that made him freeze. "…One hundred and seventy years remaining until the auction begins?"

<That's correct,> the fairy replied smoothly, her tone carrying the weight of reverence. <Tier Four planetary gear is not merely valuable—it is legendary. It stands among the rarest and most precious S-Class treasures known to civilized existence. Tier Five and Tier Six artifacts have transcended monetary valuation; they are cosmic anomalies, beyond commerce. So when a Tier Four item emerges, protocols must be enacted. Long-term promotion, interstellar awareness campaigns, and cosmic-level screening processes are set in motion.>

"…I see." Robin exhaled a long, heavy breath as his eyes moved to a glowing label on the interface:

Auction Scope: The Middle Planetary Belt.

He leaned back into his seat with a defeated slump. It made perfect sense now.

This current auction he was participating in—just a small, local galactic affair for a Tier One item—had already attracted over 1,600 bidders, all of them wealthy, influential, and ruthless. The price had risen from 60,000 to 370,000 energy Pearls in mere minutes.

Now imagine... what would happen when an item of Tier Four caliber was unveiled across the entire Mid-Celestial Belt? A region with countless worlds, empires, and ancient forces? With a three-century-long marketing campaign preparing the battlefield?

Then came the final blow—one that made his chest feel hollow.

Starting Bid: 70 Million Energy Pearls.

The number glared back at him, tauntingly.

Back before his departure, while waiting for the elites he'd summoned to arrive, Robin had made a request to Emily, He'd joked to her with a sly grin, "Prepare me a space ring fit for an emperor."

And she had gone above and beyond.

Days later, she delivered not just a ring—but a multidimensional treasury. A single space ring that held tens of other rings within it, and those rings each contained samples—or in many cases, full stockpiles—of everything the empire had accumulated across generations. Minerals, alloys, energy stones, enchanted goods… it was the lifeblood of a galactic power.

And the most important part?

Fifty rings.

Each one packed with one million energy pearls.

They once had nearly a billion pearls in reserve. A fortune. But Robin had given Emily full permission to use it all. "Don't hold back," he had said. She used it into armor development, fleet upgrades, military matrices.

And she had. For a century, the empire had advanced like never before. But that progress had drained the vaults. Now their reserves were down to barely a quarter of what they once were.

The fact that she still managed to hand him 50 million worth of pearls was a miracle—a gesture that tore at her heart as she placed the ring in his hand.

There was no way—no universe—where he could return and ask for even a single ring more.

And the problem was... Robin simply couldn't justify borrowing another 20 million from the Empire—not in its current state. The 70 million was only the opening bid, after all. It wouldn't be even slightly surprising if the final price soared to 200… maybe even 300 million energy pearls.

No wonder Rinara had completely ignored the listing—as if it never existed in the first place. With her empire hanging on by a thread, there was no realistic way she could muster such a staggering amount of wealth just to bid on a single artifact. Most likely, she was still clinging to her old plan: trying to hunt down a Grade Three Displacement Artifact from some obscure recluse, pressuring him into a trade... or simply eliminating him and taking it by force.

Robin exhaled deeply, his brows furrowed as he slowly pinched the bridge of his nose, the pressure building behind his eyes.

"I came here seeking alliances… to uncover the mysteries of the fifth stages of the laws… to strengthen myself and ascend to the level of a World Cataclysm. And yet—why do I feel the path is veering off, leading me toward wealth and trade instead?"

It was then that the fairy reappeared, her glowing figure shimmering faintly in the dim surroundings:

<Acquiring wealth may be a monumental task for most living beings, but not for one chosen by Truth,> she said gently. <Human Sir, are you ready to ascend once more into the Chamber of Truth? Or would you prefer to continue browsing through the remaining halls of the Spirit Society?>

Robin tilted his head back and chuckled quietly, voice laced with determination.

"Heh~ Why not...?"

He stretched his arms to either side, as if embracing the weight of his destiny.

"That artifact... it's no mere luxury—it's a critical part of the mission. I must acquire it, no matter the price." Then he clapped his hands once. "Take me there."

<As you wish,> the fairy replied with a radiant smile spreading across her delicate face.

SWOOSH

Once more, the world tilted and spiraled, but this time, it wasn't just a change of scenery or the shifting of avatars. No, this time darkness overtook everything. The light in Robin's eyes dimmed… and then vanished.

When the world finally stabilized and his senses caught up, Robin found himself standing in a narrow, sealed room—a chamber cloaked in shadows. There were no windows, no doors, no breeze, no scent, no sound… only the faint flicker of a solitary candle, its flame the sole source of light, casting long shadows across stone walls.

Robin could only judge the room's size by the faint glow that reached the surrounding furniture—minimalist, almost spartan: a handful of scattered chairs and a few small, plain tables.

"…A bit gloomy, isn't it?" Robin muttered, breaking the silence with a dry observation.

<This is the exact environment previous Truth Chosens requested,> the fairy explained softly. <A secluded, silent place, devoid of excessive lighting or sound. A sanctuary for contemplation. Does it not suit your tastes?>

Robin paused, then offered a faint smile as his gaze traveled upward.

"…Feels like the cave at night, in a way. Not something I haven't grown used to."

But then his eyes widened.

Though the chamber was cramped in width, it soared vertically—an immense height stretching upward. And then, he saw the reason why.

The walls were buried in documents.

Sheets of paper stacked from floor to ceiling, some bound, others folded, sealed, or pinned with delicate symbols. Every surface was covered.

"All of these are requests for Truth Chosens…?" Robin walked toward one of the four towering walls, his hands clasped behind his back. The wall before him was dense with hundreds—no, perhaps thousands—of sealed scrolls, slips, and handwritten forms.

<That's right, Mr.Human,> the fairy said. <This room does not serve just Planet Zaron, or even Sector 100. The requests here come from across the entire Mid-Planetary Belt. As you may already understand, Mr.Human, the number of Truth Chosens is far too limited to assign a dedicated chamber in every single sector.>

Robin nodded slowly, already reaching for the first scroll. He read the title aloud. "Makes sense… but why don't you—"

"Would you shut your mouth for a damn minute?" The sudden voice cut through the still air like a sharp blade. "Some of us are actually trying to concentrate in here."