Lord of the Truth

".....?!" Robin slowly opened his eyes, Meanwhile, his mind was operating at an astonishing speed, desperately trying to process the overwhelming flood of numbers that Neri had just thrown at him as if they were mere trivialities. His thoughts raced, attempting to make sense of the sheer complexity, trying to break it down into comprehensible fragments.

With each passing second, his eyelids lifted further and further, his expression shifting from confusion to deep contemplation, then to sheer disbelief. His pupils dilated as he absorbed the meaning behind the figures. Before he realized it, his eyes were so wide open that his eyelids had almost disappeared.

A cold chill ran down his spine, and his body instinctively reacted. He took a step backward, but his legs suddenly failed him. His balance wavered, and within a fraction of a second, his knees gave in.

Baa!

He collapsed onto the ground, his breath caught in his throat. However, before his body could fully hit the hard surface, Neri flicked her fingers, manipulating the energy of the field. Instantly, a chair materialized beneath him, catching him just in time.

Neri observed him silently, allowing him the space to process everything without interference. She knew that what she had just explained was not something a person could digest in mere moments.

Robin's lips moved slightly, whispering incomprehensible words as he mumbled to himself, trying to organize the chaotic calculations storming through his mind.

While he was lost in his thoughts, Neri turned her attention to the ground before him. With a simple gesture, she extended her hand and traced intricate patterns using the energy of the field. A luminous diagram began forming in the air, glowing softly.

Robin's trance was broken when he noticed the shifting symbols. His gaze snapped toward the diagram, his brows furrowing in curiosity.

"Hmm?" he murmured, his analytical instincts kicking in. He leaned forward slightly, examining the strange structure that had just appeared before him.

At the core of the illustration was a dense, smoky cloud, an amorphous and chaotic mass that seemed to swirl endlessly.

Surrounding it were two perfectly symmetrical circles one after the other, with the second, being much larger encompassing the entire diagram, creating a layered pattern.

Extending from the smoky cloud were long, thin lines that sliced through the inner circle and stretched outward until they reached the borders of the outer circle, where they came to an abrupt halt.

Neri's voice broke the silence, drawing Robin's full attention.

"This cloud in the center, is what we call the Primordial Chaos." she began, her tone carrying a certain weight. Then she extended a finger and tapped the diagram lightly, causing the smoky cloud to ripple.

"At its boundaries, matter begins to form randomly. Sometimes, it is an enormous, burning star. Other times, it is a mere asteroid drifting aimlessly. And then, on rarer occasions, it is something far greater—an entire solar system, born with the potential to host life."

She paused for a moment, allowing Robin to digest her words before continuing.

"Once something is born from the Primordial Chaos, it does not remain still. Instead, it begins to move away and forward, slowly but inevitably. Its direction is always fixed—never changing under normal circumstances."

She then pointed toward the long lines extending from the chaotic cloud.

"Each of these lines represents a boundary, and within each boundary lies an immense cosmic region. These regions are loaded with vast empty spaces, violent space storms, and terrifying interdimensional beasts that roam the void. Between these lines, however, exist safe zones—stable areas that are protected from the dangers outside. These are known as sectors."

Robin's eyes narrowed slightly as he absorbed the explanation.

"You could think of them as miniature universes, each isolated yet connected. These sectors serve as the pathways for celestial bodies, guiding them as they move further and further from the Primordial Chaos."

Neri then directed his attention to the first circular boundary surrounding the chaos.

"This," she said, "is the Young Planetary Belt. It is the first major threshold that any celestial body must pass. Within this belt, the dangers are relatively low. However, no planet is permitted to cross this boundary unless its inhabitants have spent at least 500,000 years in cultivation history."

"Only after this period of cultivation is a planet allowed to continue its journey into the Middle-aged Belt. Of course, 500,000 years is hardly enough time to prepare for the horrors that await beyond, but it is still better than nothing."

She offered him a small, knowing smile before adding,

"I imagine you're wondering— How only 500,000 years when there are beings, creatures, and even plants that have existed for millions of years?"

Robin didn't respond, but the glint in his eyes indicated that she had guessed correctly.

"The answer," Neri continued, "is that this half a million years does not refer to the age of the planet itself. Instead, it refers to the age of its martial paths. In other words, a planet could exist for millions— or even billions— of years within the Young Belt, waiting for its inhabitants to discover martial paths. Until that discovery occurs, the planet is placed under absolute protection, hidden from the eyes of invaders."

Her expression darkened slightly.

"However, this protection is not eternal. If the planet's inhabitants fail to discover battle paths within a certain time limit, their chance will be forever denied. Their protection will be lifted—exposing them to stronger, more advanced young planets that will have the right to invade and conquer them."

A heavy silence fell over them as the weight of her words settled in. Then, with a casual motion, she pointed toward the next layer of sectors beyond the Young Belt.

"As you can see, these sectors are extensions of the previous ones. If a planet exists in Sector 70 within the Young Belt, upon promotion, it will continue into Sector 70 of the Middle Aged Belt. However, there is a major difference between the two."

She gestured toward the diagram again.

"The Middle-Aged sectors are much larger, their distances far greater, and the number of planets within them significantly lower. Here, planets are spaced far apart, each struggling to survive in an increasingly hostile environment."

Robin exhaled slowly, his mind spinning with newfound knowledge. The sheer structure of this cosmic order was beyond anything he had imagined.

She then reached the second and final circle, her gaze steady as she continued,

"This marks the end of the Middle-Aged Planetary Belt and the known boundary of the known universe. Beyond this point, no widely accessible knowledge exists. It is said that some of the most powerful beings —those who reign at the pinnacle of the Middle-Aged Belt— possess fragments of forbidden insight about what lies beyond. However, for some reason unknown to the rest of us, they hoard this knowledge, refusing to share a single word of it with the outside world.

This secrecy is bizarre—an enigma in itself—but because of it, to the vast majority of civilizations, what is known as the Ancient Planetary Belt remains an unsolved mystery. It is both a certainty and a myth—a place that must exist and yet, at the same time, is nothing more than a legend passed through whispers and speculation."

She turned her head slightly, meeting Robin's bewildered expression with an unchanged, knowing smile.

"So, tell me," she said, her voice calm yet firm. "Do you have any other questions about the natural galaxies or the true structure of the universe?"

Robin had been deep in thought for a while, but now, as if unable to contain himself any longer, he suddenly burst out,

"...Doesn't this mean that the average number of planets that harbor life within a single sector exceeds ten million at the very least?!"

Neri nodded in confirmation, as if the number was a mere triviality to her.

"Yes," she replied casually. "And in truth, the number can be far greater if you were to count them all properly."

A quiet chuckle escaped her lips as she observed Robin's face pale slightly. Then, with effortless grace, she extended a hand toward the glowing model of the known universe, gesturing at it once more.

"Do not let this tiny projection fool you, my dear owner," she continued, her voice carrying an almost hypnotic authority.

"The universe is vast—so vast that no mortal mind can fully grasp its scale. Tell me, do you believe that after hearing all of this, you now have a clearer idea of its true size? Do you think that simply listening to numbers will help you comprehend the boundless void in which all these celestial bodies drift?

No, you will not.

Even if the number of planets, moons, and stars were to double, triple, or even multiply a hundredfold, they would still fail to fill even a minuscule fraction of the universe. They would remain scattered, drifting across impossible distances—mere dust motes lost in an eternal, uncharted ocean of blackness and silence."

Robin's breath caught in his throat as the weight of reality came crashing down upon him.

"Millions of inhabited planets per sector… A thousand young sectors… A thousand middle-aged sectors…"

His voice trembled, barely above a whisper now.

"Oh my heavens...!!"

The overwhelming numbers churned in his mind, each one suffocating his former sense of confidence like a tidal wave.

Without realizing it, he had buried his face in his hands, his fingers gripping his hair. His once steady breathing had turned erratic, and his shoulders—once squared with self-assurance—now trembled ever so slightly.

The sense of greatness he had carried within him, the unshakable pride that had filled his heart after his hard-won victory over Pythor, was now shrinking at an alarming rate.

It was as if that victory —something he had thought to be monumental, legendary, a defining moment in history— was now being stripped of all meaning before his very eyes.

Even the light that always gleamed in his eyes, that flicker of undeniable ambition, was starting to fade.

The deaths of billions… The destruction of the Shadow…

All of it, once seen as epoch-defining events, now seemed utterly insignificant in the grand scope of the cosmos.

That great war, which once seemed to shake the very fabric of reality, was no more than a petty skirmish.

It was nothing more than a battle between dung beetles beneath some forgotten rock—trivial, meaningless.

As Neri observed the changes in Robin's expression, her eyebrows furrowed slightly, displeased by what she saw.

"My future owner," she said, her tone sharp, yet laced with a hint of amusement.

"Why that look on your face? Don't tell me that you are already considering abandoning your dreams of expansion? That would be… disappointing."

She tilted her head slightly, scrutinizing his expression with keen interest.

"You have just learned that the feast before you is even grander than you had imagined," she continued, her voice smooth, almost playful.

"So why has your appetite shrunk?"

Robin exhaled slowly, rubbing his temples as his mind reeled from the implications.

"It's the goal, Neri… My goal has become blurry," he admitted at last.

"Before, I took pride in my thirteen planets—I would raise my head high whenever I thought of them. But now…

Now I feel that even if I conquered a million worlds, I would still be nothing more than a small fish—a fragile existence that could be swallowed whole at any given moment."

His voice was filled with something he had never allowed himself to feel before—uncertainty.

He shook his head, his fingers curling into fists.

For the first time in a long while, he felt as though he was standing on the edge of an abyss, staring into a darkness so vast that it threatened to consume even the most unshakable of wills.

Neri simply watched him for a moment, then, with an amused chuckle, she took a slow step forward.

"A goal, hmm?" she mused softly.

Then, her lips curled into a mischievous yet enigmatic smile.

"Oh… In that case," she purred, her eyes gleaming with something indescribable, "Allow me to give you one."