Lord of the Truth

"Oh no... oh no..." Robin whispered, placing both hands over his head as if trying to physically contain the panic surging inside his skull. His breathing quickened. His heart thundered like war drums. A silent reel of his life began to unravel in his mind, memory after memory flashing by like pages ripped from a burning book.

Hummm...

<Did I keep you waiting?> the fairy reappeared at the left edge of the mirror, her voice calm and pleasant, as if nothing in the universe had shifted. <Setting the right prices and devising promotional strategies that satisfy everyone took a bit more time than I expected, and... hmm?>

She stopped.

Her eyes narrowed slightly in confusion. Robin wasn't responding. He wasn't even seeing her.

His expression wasn't that of someone waiting. It wasn't even one of mild annoyance. His eyes were vacant—disconnected—like someone who had just seen a future they weren't prepared for. Like a man watching his own execution.

<Mr. Human... is something the matter?> she asked gently, the air between them suddenly felt tenser than glass.

"…Matter?" Robin echoed with a voice that sounded hollow, as if it had to crawl its way out from the back of his mind. Then, slowly—like lightning reaching a tree—her words struck him. His eyes refocused, flaring with sudden intensity. "Is something the matter?! You tell me! Weren't you the one who told me to head to the public lobby?! Don't you know what the hell is happening out there?!"

<Are you referring to your… popularity?> the fairy tilted her head slightly, puzzled at the scale of his panic. <Is that truly worth such a dramatic reaction? I did warn you multiple times about the growing attention you were receiving. I told you—clearly—that every major intelligence faction, information guild, and soul surveillance system across the Mid-Belt is pouring resources into tracking you. And we've been actively working to throw them off your scent.>

"Yes, yes, that I expected," Robin snapped, eyes wide. "I assumed there'd be a few nosy agents. People who get too curious when someone invents something useful. That's normal! It's what happens to everyone! I thought I'd get a little heat. Maybe even a background check or two!"

Then his voice exploded, raw with disbelief.

"But you never told me I'd become a bloody myth! That my name would be whispered in every single corner of the Mid-Belt! Every damn avatar in the public lobby was chanting my name like cultists at a summoning ritual!"

<It didn't happen overnight, Mr.Human.> Her tone remained calm, but a note of seriousness entered it. <Fame like yours doesn't come from one act of brilliance—it's the accumulation of consistency, mystery, and impact.>

<You became infamous the moment you completed several high-tier commissions from the Chamber of Truth—commissions that most artisans refuse to even attempt. Over half of those clients tried to trace you, and when they couldn't, your legend grew. Information brokers began whispering about Human who finished impossible jobs effortlessly. A ghost. A genius. A shadow. Your name started echoing among the elite—among the ones who care about these things.>

<Then came the turning point: the "Colonization Array for the Uncolonizable Planets." We heavily promoted it, and that Array made waves so powerful that it caught the attention of Empires and ancient sects alike. Naturally, your name came with it.>

With a small wave of her fingers, a glowing scroll unrolled in midair beside her. It showed a long list of products, talismans, and arrays—all crafted by Robin. His most recent additions, the five martial arts techniques, glowed with golden aura at the bottom of the list.

<Then came your arsenal of innovations. Talismans no one had seen before. Arrays with absurdly high efficiency. Martial arts that blend foundational paths in ways people never imagined. You've become... more than an inventor. You've become a phenomenon.>

She smiled, not mockingly, but in genuine awe.

<Somehow, in under a single century—a mere blink in the eyes of the middle belt—you've managed to build a name that resonates from the ivory towers of imperial families to the street corners of low-level wanderers. You've become a symbol. A banner. A mystery. That's quite something.>

Robin stared at her, horrified—like a man waking up in someone else's skin.

"But how?!" he cried, voice cracking. "Aren't we in the Mid-Belt?! The cradle of accumulated genius—where every brick has a legacy, every shadow holds a master?! There are civilizations here with millions of years of history! Why the hell do my inventions matter?!"

He gripped his hair, almost pulling.

"I thought... I thought my work would vanish into the noise. Like throwing a needle into an endless ocean."

<There are countless reasons why your actions have sent ripples—no, shockwaves—through the entire Soul Society,> the fairy said softly, her voice carrying the weight of truths unspoken. She raised a single finger, a gesture as graceful as it was deliberate. <Allow me to walk you through a few of them, so that you may begin to understand the magnitude of the storm you've stirred.>

She paused, her luminous wings fluttering behind her like echoes of a forgotten song.

<First and foremost... your nature is utterly alien.>

<You see, the Truth Chosen we know they tend to align themselves with specific forces. They become zealots of power. Loyalists to their domains. They dedicate their entire lives to feeding those forces, often at the expense of protection or compassion. And above all, they hoard. Knowledge. Inventions. Insights. They guard their creations like dragons guarding ancient hoards.>

<Even if they do invent something new, it's rarely beyond the boundaries of their specialization. For example, the Dog-Headed Truth Chosen? His name is synonymous with pills innovation—he's revered for his pill-enhancement research. The Spiked-Hair Truth Chosen? He's a legend in martial arts design. They are consistent, predictable...>

Then she turned her gaze directly at Robin, her expression sharp as moonlight on ice.

<But you, Mr. Human? You are chaos incarnate. You don't hoard. You unleash. You give your knowledge to the world freely, carelessly, as though you're in a race against death to empty your soul of every secret it holds.>

<And what's more? You don't follow a pattern. You defy structure. In your short time here, you've published works across vastly different domains—array crafting, soul techniques, healing talismans, soul-forging techniques, martial arts forms, weapon engravings… and beyond. Each a masterpiece in its own right.>

<You don't fit any mold. And in a society built upon hierarchy, repetition, and tradition—that makes you dangerous. That makes you... how to say it, aha: unforgettable.>

"....."

Robin clenched his jaw, brows furrowed in silent tension.

Wasn't it expected for a Truth Chosen to master many paths?

Wasn't that the point of Seeing everything? Had he misunderstood the role from the start?

But the fairy was not finished. She raised a second finger, her tone darkening.

<Now, beyond your eccentricities—beyond the enigma of your mind—there is a very real, practical issue. One that's keeping the higher circles of power awake at night.>

<It's the availability of your creations. You don't sell ten talismans and disappear. You don't auction off one sacred array and let rumors feed your name. No. You hand us—the Soul Society—the method of creation itself. The sacred blueprint. The very formula. And we… we activate our universal-scale factories. We fulfill orders across all sectors in huge quantities.>

<Do you understand how insane that is? No other chosen does that. Everyone else protects the "how" as if it were their soul's last breath. They sell products, not processes. They keep their secrets until death and pass them only to blood heirs or chosen disciples. But you... you give them away. Like they're nothing.>

"...."

Robin stood frozen, mouth dry.

To him, those innovations were nothing. Not compared to what he still had hidden.

They were tools to earn credit. To make a living. To pave the way for the Empire of True Beginning.

If he had tried to craft all those arrays and talismans himself, he wouldn't have made a fraction of what he earned now. Not even 1%.

He suddenly felt a chill.

What would happen if he sold "Deathfire"?

If he unleashed the "Foundation Modification Technique"?

Or the terrifying "Soul-Filling Technique"?

The fairy's voice broke his thoughts like a dagger through fog.

<And finally... we believe much of the turmoil is tied to your name.>

She smiled now, a smile both amused and dangerous.

<"Human.">

<By choosing that name, you've lit a fire. Humans across the Belt are waving your name like a banner. They're claiming that the next Great Truth Chosen—the one to shake the heavens—has come from their ranks.>

<And that, Mr.Human, has enraged everyone else. The noble races. The elder bloodlines. The ancient legacies. They are furious. You've forced them to look down and see the human race rising from the dust with their annoying talk. I assume that was your intention when you chose that name?>

"..."

Robin scratched the back of his neck, guilt and embarrassment crawling up his spine.

"Not entirely... I suppose I got carried away. When I heard from that boy about the condition of humans in the Mid-Belt, about their suffering, their helplessness... I guess I wanted to raise them up a little. Even if just symbolically."

He gave a nervous chuckle. "Yeah… that one's on me."

The fairy's expression hardened. Her wings slowed their shimmer.

<Speaking of "that boy Pitso,"> she said quietly, every word coated in caution.

<Are you sure you can trust him?>