Lord of the Truth

Chapter 1030: Final chance

”...Wait, donʼt kill Jabba!!!” Sakaarʼs rough shout came quickly and forcefully, fearing that the Lord would rip open the fabric of space and leap through it before he could finish his words.

His shout proved effective; everyone around heard it and froze momentarily before resuming their battles.

”...?!” Even Robinʼs target halted midair, looking back with eyes filled with fear and disbelief before quickly continuing his flight.

As for Robin, he froze in place and slowly turned toward Sakaar, his eyes wide open. ”You, of all people? Have you forgotten what happened to Morin and half of your army? Or do you think I am weak and incapable of doing this myself? ...Give me a reason. If itʼs something trivial like, Donʼt do it because I want to kill him myself, then prepare for the consequences.” By the end of his sentence, anger had etched itself onto his face.

Prepare for the consequences... Even Sakaar was stunned upon hearing those words!

It was the first time Robin had threatened a high-ranking member of his empire with punishment. Usually, individuals like Caesar, Richard, Sakaar, and even the generals were given allowances for mistakes without facing repercussions. Robin didnʼt want those around him to feel as though he was lying in wait for their missteps, which would stifle their independent thinking and problem-solving abilities.

But today, he clearly meant his words. During the Shadow Raid, Sakaar had demanded Jabbaʼs execution for his betrayal, particularly for handing over the teleportation arrays to the Great Serpent Empire. But Robin had refused, stating he needed indisputable evidence of Jabbaʼs betrayal, and if found, he would deal with it himself. Today, he had his proof.

Jabbaʼs manner of speaking was not that of someone feigning innocence or plotting schemes. It was the demeanor of a man who knew exactly what he was doing. And as long as Jabba was fully aware of his actions, there was no need for Robin to entertain his justifications or seek reconciliation. Jabba was a grown man, over a century old. Having chosen his path, he should know where it ends.

Robin had made his decision the moment Jabba mentioned his wife. His gaze shifted from seeing Jabba as a misguided student to a dead man. The pity and incomprehension in his eyes were replaced by cold detachment. He had resolved to end Jabbaʼs life then and there-the man he had once considered the closest to understanding him, even closer than his own children!

Thus, if Sakaar now stepped in to stop him for a petty reason like wanting to deal with Jaba himself, it would insult Robinʼs resolve and provide more than enough reason for punishment.

Sakaar sighed in relief when he noticed Robin halt and turn toward him. At this point, there was no need to shout again. Yet he still feared Robin might lose patience and proceed. Quickly, he retrieved a voice ring from the blue leather pouch and infused it with his spiritual essence. (”We agreed, Jabba is yours. And I know the Lord always keeps his word. But could you delay his death for just a bit longer?”)

”Why?” Robin furrowed his brows slightly and loosened his grip on the spear. Sakaarʼs words had calmed him a little.

(”Jabbaʼs words... if Iʼm not mistaken, his dialogue with you contained several hints,”) Sakaar said, his voice calm but carrying a weight of hidden meaning. Even as explosions of energy tore through the battlefield and warriors clashed with elemental fury around him, Sakaar appeared oddly detached, his focus unwavering at Robin alone.

Above them, the Soul Creature Hovenheim had fully materialized, its colossal form casting a shadow over the battlefield like an ancient monolith awakened from a slumber of eons. Its bark shimmered with a strange, otherworldly light, veins of glowing energy coursing through its massive branches. It lacked the raw strength to overwhelm the emperors it faced, but its purpose was clear: to disrupt and delay. Each swing of its gargantuan limbs sent shockwaves rippling through the air, forcing its opponents to scatter and focus their attacks on the mighty creature rather than the battle at large.

Below, the scene was no less intense. A myriad of Sakaarʼs Underworld Daisies dotted the battlefield like an eerie, spectral garden. Their sinister glow pulsed as they regenerated relentlessly, rendering conventional destruction futile. Frustrated, his opponents had resorted to invoking the secondary erosion law, a devastating technique that reduced the daisies to fine, shimmering dust. Each eradicated flower seemed to spark another in its place, turning the battle into a desperate contest-would the daisies be depleted first, or would the blood of their assailants give out under the relentless toll?

(”...What hints are you referring to?”) Robinʼs reply came through the sound ring, his voice laced with skepticism. He would be lying if he claimed Jabbaʼs words had left him unaffected. These hints had not escaped his notice, yet he had chosen to dismiss them.

This was the final confrontation-there was no room for ambiguity. What value could hints hold now? Even if Jabba stood brazenly on this battlefield and hurled insults at Pythorʼs lineage, who would dare touch him under Robinʼs watchful gaze?

(”I donʼt want to seem like a fool if my conclusions are incorrect, so Iʼd prefer to keep them to myself until proven otherwise,”) Sakaar responded tersely. His words were clipped but firm as if weighed down by an unseen burden. (”All I ask is that you grant him one last chance.”) Robin remained silent for a moment, his gaze following the faint silhouette of Jabba as it shrank in the distance. The young man with his long, dark braids streaked through the skies with remarkable speed, a blur against the smoky horizon. A few more seconds and even Robinʼs sharp eyes would lose him.

”Hoo~” Robin exhaled slowly, his breath a mix of exasperation and resignation. He eased back into his throne, its ornate design glowing faintly with stored power. Resting the tip of his black spear against his shoulder, he signaled his reluctant agreement. (”I hope you know what youʼre doing.”)

His voice, though neutral, carried a chilling undertone. The responsibility for Jabbaʼs survival now rested solely with Sakaar, and Robin made no effort to mask the consequences should this decision backfire. Yet deep inside, a quiet sense of relief unfurled within him, like a tightly wound spring finally released.

(”I hope he knows what heʼs doing,”) Sakaar replied in a soft murmur, before slipping the sound ring back into his leather pouch and returning his attention to the battle at hand.

A sardonic chuckle broke the tension as Pythorʼs voice cut through the stillness like a blade. ”Hmm, I see youʼve returned to your seat. Does this mean youʼve reconsidered killing your disobedient disciple?” His tone dripped with mockery. ”Tell me, how does a planetary emperor stoop so low as to heed the barks of a subordinate? That horned fiend bellowed at you, and you simply sat down? Pathetic. Truth Chosens, for all their vaunted wisdom, truly make for laughable rulers.”

Robinʼs lips curled into a faint, humorless smile as he rubbed his temples, the weight of Pythorʼs provocations an unwelcome distraction. Finally, his golden eyes settled on Pythor, their intensity sharp enough to cut stone.

”Mind your own affairs,” Robin said, his tone laced with cold disdain. ”You can drape yourself in your gaudy jewels and parade around with hair as garish as your robes but donʼt think for a moment Iʼm unaware of how you grovel before your Overlord. Nose to the dirt, chin scraping the ground... even prisoners of war in my empire are treated with more dignity.”