Lord of the Truth-Chapter 1335: Necessary risk

"Haha! That boy will be absolutely thrilled when I bring him the scythe!" Robin clapped his hands together with force and excitement.

Although he had never personally laid eyes on a third-tier planetary artifact before, he could vividly imagine its might and magnificence just from the price tag alone. Caesar’s current halberd, for example, was crafted entirely from neutral-grade Urasilium—a rare and stable metal—boasting intricate detailing and unparalleled durability. And yet, despite all that, its value would never exceed 10,000 pearls. The fact that this scythe was worth multiple times more painted a clear picture of its sheer superiority.

"Now then... how exactly do I go about receiving the artifact? And—" Robin turned slightly toward the fairy beside him, intending to ask her a few questions about the procedures and logistics. But before he could speak, he noticed something odd.

Renara, as well as a remarkably large portion of the hall’s audience, were all staring directly at him at that moment. Their gazes weren’t hostile or accusing—far from it. Instead, there was a clear sense of puzzled curiosity in their eyes, as if trying to decode a riddle they weren’t expecting.

"What’s going on?" Robin asked, his voice carrying a hint of alarm. He was visibly unsettled by the unexpected attention.

<There’s no need for concern, Mr. H—ah, I mean, Lord Human.> The fairy replied quickly with a graceful, reassuring smile.

<They’re simply surprised by the way Lord Morval addressed you just now, that’s all.>

She leaned in slightly, lowering her voice as if sharing a secret.

<You see, when someone of Lord Morval’s stature uses the title ’Lord’ toward someone, it usually implies a few things: immense personal power, high standing within a faction, or perhaps a background linked to noble bloodlines—such as a general, the grandchild of a Tyrant, a prominent figure from a stellar academy, or someone holding significant influence over a star region.>

Then, gesturing subtly around the auction hall, she continued,

<And individuals of such caliber typically don’t go out of their way to conceal their identity—unlike you. The fact that you remain cloaked in secrecy, while being treated with such reverence by someone as influential as Lord Morval, has sparked their curiosity. To them, you are now a mystery—a hidden Lord whose identity begs to be discovered.>

"Ah... I see." Robin murmured, scratching the back of his head in contemplation. The situation was, admittedly, a little awkward—but also somewhat flattering.

To be publicly acknowledged with the title "Lord" by someone like Morval wasn’t a trivial matter—it was a gesture of recognition. But it raised an important question: Why him? What had earned him such a mark of respect?

Before he could delve deeper into that thought, Lord Morval’s voice rang out across the grand hall once again:

"Up next, we have a sealed jar containing the blood of the legendary griffin, Petgriff—the ancient beast who lived for an astonishing 23 million years and managed to ascend to the Nexus State. It possesses an exceptionally strong elemental affinity with fire, wind, and poison. Whoever obtains this blood may awaken a path in any one of these three celestial elements—or, of course, strive to combine them into a merged law! Haha!"

A soft ripple of laughter spread through the crowd.

Laws that combined multiple elemental paths were extraordinarily rare—near mythical, in fact—and while not everyone could harness them, having access to the raw potential was enough to stir excitement and awe.

"With this blood, you could found an entirely new bloodline for your clan. You could reinforce your armies, or even rewrite the genetic fate of your lineage, especially if it has been in decline. Just be sure to purchase a high-grade racial enhancement device from the Soul Society, haha! Let’s open the bidding at 450,000 pearls!"

With that enthusiastic declaration, Lord Morval leaned back and closed his eyes, folding his arms behind him in calm satisfaction, as if this entire grand auction was just another leisurely afternoon.

Robin, however, no longer looked toward the stage. Instead, deep in thought, he turned again to the fairy beside him.

"Hey... did Lord Morval say anything else about me?"

There was something about the way the auctioneer had treated him that still gnawed at his curiosity.

The fairy paused for a moment, as if weighing whether she should answer. Then she gave a gentle smile.

<...Lord Morval had actually instructed me to deliver some good news to you at the end of the auction, so you wouldn’t be distracted during the event. But since you’ve asked directly, I suppose there’s no harm in telling you now, Lord Human.>

She leaned in slightly, voice laced with subtle excitement.

<The truth is... Lord Morval is himself a Royal Soul Master. And earlier today, he agreed—personally—to help you in the matter of the Eternal Silence Curse.>

"He agreed today? Wait—when did he even learn about my request?" Robin asked, raising one eyebrow. The application had been submitted so long ago that he had nearly forgotten about it.

<...He found out today.> The fairy replied with a slightly forced, sheepish chuckle.

Just then, Lord Morval’s voice echoed once more through the auction hall:

"Sold—for 680,000 pearls! Now, our next item is the Mask of the Makers. This is a third-tier planetary artifact—a wooden mask capable of altering both your face and your aura to mimic any race you’ve seen before. However, be warned: anyone a full cultivation realm above you can still see through the illusion. We’ll begin the bidding at 5 million pearls!"

Robin stared at the fairy with a seriousness that left no room for jest. His brows furrowed, and his voice dropped low with a hint of disbelief.

"...He found out today and decided to accept my request today!? No... it must’ve been after he laid eyes on that item."

He narrowed his eyes slightly, thoughts swirling like a storm behind his calm exterior.

"Let me guess—did he start questioning you about everything related to me?"

A subtle tremor of unease passed through Robin’s chest.

Getting the attention of a being like Lord Morval... it wasn’t flattering—it was terrifying.

To be seen by a figure that stood at such a dizzying height meant your life could change with a single word—from blessing to doom.

The fairy, however, remained cheerful—completely unfazed by Robin’s sudden tension.

<Naturally, Lord Human. You’ve already become someone of significance. When Lord Morval learned that you submitted a request regarding the Curse of Eternal Silence, he didn’t hesitate. He immediately instructed me to arrange a meeting after the auction ends.>

Her voice was light, almost celebratory, as though she were delivering news of a promotion rather than the potential meddling of one of the universe’s most powerful individuals.

<There’s truly no reason to fear. Aside from the Tyrant of Curses—who neither offers aid nor permits his followers to lend a hand—there is no one more suited to helping you than Lord Morval himself.>

Robin was only half-listening at that point.

Behind them, the booming voice of Lord Morval echoed through the auction hall:

"The mask has been sold for 33.9 million pearls! Now, let us proceed to our next artifact: the Bell of Silence. This item is..."

But Robin heard none of it. His senses felt muffled, as if wrapped in thick fog.

The world around him slowed as his mind fixated on the weight of the news.

"Lord Morval... is going to help me?"

He repeated the thought like a prayer—or perhaps a curse.

"Hah..." A hollow chuckle escaped his lips as he gave a few slow, mechanical nods.

"It’s been nearly a century since you first told me you were searching for a Royal Soul Master for my case... and now—out of nowhere—you find one in under half an hour."

He turned toward the fairy again, his voice cold but calm.

"So tell me... do you have any idea what he’s going to ask for in return?"

The fairy paused for the first time, her smile faltering into something more hesitant.

<Unfortunately, I don’t. That... will be something the two of you will have to discuss directly.>

She gave a small, awkward laugh, clearly aware of Robin’s rising tension.

<But don’t worry too much. Everything in the Soul Society is handled through fair exchange. If you don’t like the price, you can refuse. No tricks. No pressure. The Society doesn’t need to stoop to manipulation or force to get what it wants.>

Robin held her gaze for a long, heavy moment.

No more words were exchanged—only silence and the quiet, mutual understanding that even power wrapped in civility could be terrifying.

Eventually, he exhaled slowly and began to nod again, this time with a hint of reluctant acceptance.

In truth, Robin had made incredible progress lately.

After learning how to utilize the Elastic Range and accelerate unit absorption, his soul units had soared—740,000 units now coursed through him.

He was nearing a number once believed mythical—a million units.

That number had haunted him like a distant star ever since he first heard of it.

It had seemed like a joke back then. Now, it was within reach.

But even that wasn’t enough.

One million units didn’t guarantee ascension to Royal soul Master.

Unlike the transition from a white soul owner to a Silver soul Master, which was simply a matter of hitting 1,000 units... this next step was different.

It wasn’t about quantity—it was about depth, insight, transcendence.

A million units was merely the limit of the silver realm.

Stepping beyond it—breaking through to become a Royal—required more than raw accumulation.

It required a complete transformation of the soul itself, a mastery of the fundamental laws of soul that only a lifetime of devotion could grant.

There were countless beings across the stars who had reached a million units and still failed.

They had hit a ceiling, unable to evolve.

That’s why Royal Soul Masters were revered far more than even those in the Nexus State.

Their existence was proof of soul supremacy—true understanding.

Robin, however, had reached his level by force. By gathering. By sheer will and brutal resourcefulness.

His grasp of soul theory... was shallow in comparison.

He had questioned for a long time whether he could ever cross that final threshold—or if such a leap was forever beyond him.

"...Sold for 43.5 million pearls! Now, let us proceed to the next item—The Dagger of Nine Venoms, a second-grade planetary artifact of..."

The auction rolled on in the background, but Robin remained submerged in thought.

Time was slipping by unnoticed. Faces blurred, voices faded.

Until finally, he inhaled deeply and gave a slow, decisive nod.

"Alright," he whispered under his breath.

"I’ll meet him. I have to rid myself of this curse."

Then he glanced back at the fairy with a faint, cynical smile.

"Let’s just hope... he doesn’t ask for anything outrageous."

The fairy hesitated. Her smile remained on her lips, but it faltered in her eyes.

She had no answer to give—only silence.

Fortunately, Lord Morval’s booming voice cut through the tension like a blade, thundering through the room as he clapped his hands powerfully:

"And now—at last—we arrive at the beginning of the grand finale! Let me present to you all... a fourth-grade Planetary artifact: the Planetary Displacement Tool!"

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