Lord of the Truth

Chapter 1649: New pit of destruction

Mid Sector 100 — Planet of the Pit of Destruction.

”...”

Seated in a serene garden encircled by fragrant blossoms and drifting petals, Helen remained motionless, her eyes gently closed for what felt like an eternity. The soft hum of the wind brushed against her golden hair as if nature itself hesitated to disturb her calm.

Beside her sat her loyal maid, Seraphina, breathing in and out with slow, deliberate rhythm — as though she sought to etch every scent, every ray of filtered sunlight into the deepest recesses of her soul. It was as if she longed to preserve this fragile tranquility, to immortalize the feeling of peace itself.

No one could tell how long the two had been sitting there, but Seraphina’s serene, blissful expression said everything — she had no intention of leaving anytime soon. For her, these rare moments of quiet were worth more than any treasure.

To sit silently in a garden — and on the Pit of Destruction of all places? When had such a miracle ever been conceivable? Since when had there even been something so delicate as a garden on this forsaken world? For ages, the very idea would have been a cruel joke.

Ever since Helen’s invasion — the day she swept across the planet like a storm and wrenched it from the grasp of the Gassan Empire — this land had been nothing but a ruin. A broken shell of a world, blanketed in soot and the ashes of the fallen, where every gust of wind carried whispers of death and decay. The air itself had once tasted like smoke and despair.

The Pit of Destruction Planet — many still believed its name had originated from the Law of Ashification, a terrifying branch of the Path of Destruction once wielded by the empire’s high priests. But that was only a convenient myth. Anyone who had ever stood on this soil, anyone who had looked upon its horizon, would understand instantly — the planet wasn’t merely named after destruction. It was destruction given form.

After the catastrophic battle that scorched its crust and turned oceans into glass, Helen made no effort to restore what was lost. She had grander visions to chase — empires to confront, worlds to reshape, destinies to command. Time, resources, manpower — she spent them all elsewhere, leaving this scarred planet to slumber beneath layers of ash.

Decades became centuries, centuries turned to millennia, and the decay grew thicker, deeper — each age adding its own ruin, each ruler its own neglect. The planet eventually became little more than a hollow echo of what it had once been — a ghost of its former glory.

But not anymore.

Beyond the edges of the tranquil garden — just outside the royal palace’s boundaries — came the rhythmic clanging of tools, the heavy calls of laborers, and the rumble of machines as clouds of ochre dust swirled upward into the pale sky. The sounds of construction filled the air like a heartbeat returning to a body long thought dead.

Yet no one complained. The noise was not a nuisance — it was life reborn.

For the first time in ten thousand years, the foundations of a new military and commercial starport were being laid. The empire now commanded four formidable fleets, and Her Majesty had recently acquired ten advanced transport and trade vessels. The ancient docks, corroded and crumbling, could no longer sustain such expansion. It was time to rebuild — not merely to survive, but to rise.

Rumors spread like wildfire across the galactic network — whispers of grand projects: training academies for the next generation of officers, vast military compounds, residential zones for civilians, and even a colossal initiative to regrow forests upon the burnt wastelands. Citizens — whether born here or who had followed Helen from afar — lived every day in disbelief. They spoke of miracles, of divine favor, of history bending in their lifetime.

Every galactic broadcast and news feed echoed with the same astonishment: the Pit of Destruction lives again.

They called it a resurrection.

And the Emperor of Gassan, upon hearing those words, was said to have shattered an entire communication terminal in his fury.

Inhaaaaaale—

Seraphina drew in a deep, theatrical breath, as though she were trying to inhale the entire planet — the flowers, the air, the warmth, the hope — all at once.

”Alright, stop behaving like that,” came a calm, faintly amused voice beside her. ”We didn’t grow up in a garbage dump, you know.”

”Ah! My lady!” Seraphina snapped upright, her face instantly brightening with unrestrained joy. ”Hehe~ How was your visit to the Soul Society this time? It must’ve been wonderful, right? Finally not having to travel to a commercial world and rent one of those dreadful chambers!”

”...Pleasant,” Helen murmured, her voice low and measured, her smile subtle — yet carrying that same disarming grace that had made entire courts kneel and hardened generals falter. ”I was never fond of the notion of planting a soul seed, but... now, I think I understand it.”

”No one really enjoys piloting super fast vessels — unless they happen to own one, hehe~.” Seraphina’s laughter rang softly through the air, a light melody carried on the gentle wind that rustled the garden leaves. Yet her amusement vanished in an instant when she felt the cool, steady gaze of her lady upon her. The mere weight of Helen’s eyes was enough to silence even the most carefree heart.

”U-um...” Seraphina shifted awkwardly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. ”Did you find any new reports about your brother, my lady? The elder lord?”

Helen’s head tilted slightly, the sunlight glimmering off her golden hair. ”Mm,” she murmured in acknowledgment. ”It turns out that those who share in the soul seed are treated differently. I was able to view every piece of information regarding the Cosmic War — unrestricted and without paying a single credit in additional fees. It was... remarkable, and yet, unsettling in a way.”

She let her voice fade, pausing as if weighing her next words.

”...But to be honest, the reports about my brother are far from comforting.”

”Oh? Why?” Seraphina’s tone rose with surprise, her expression shifting from curiosity to disbelief. ”Everyone’s been in awe of what’s happening there! The entire Cosmos talking about him. No one can comprehend how Lord Hedrick has managed to hold his ground for so long — standing against a cosmic war led by two Behemoths! There are even reports claiming he’s fighting them head-on, matching their might, and that he’s destroyed fleets beyond counting!”

Five years ago, the entire cosmos had trembled at an announcement that shook history itself. Lord Hedrick, the firstborn of the Behemoth of Destruction, had assembled a terrifying armada of six hundred fleets — no one knew from where or how. Without warning, he launched a full-scale invasion into Mid Sector 101, his own dominion.

What followed was chaos on an astronomical scale — a war so violent it scarred the very stars.

Fifteen planets were reduced to dust, vaporized into cosmic debris, and over four hundred unidentified fleets were obliterated in the inferno — fleets that had been hiding across those worlds for decades. Many others, terrified, scattered into the void in panic.

Of course, victory came at a price. Lord Hedrick himself was heavily wounded in the aftermath — his forces shattered, more than a hundred of his fleets lost, and several of his most loyal generals severely injured. Yet when the smoke cleared, and the void fell silent, the outcome was undeniable — it had been a devastating triumph.

He declared, before every broadcast network in the known sectors, that enemies from beyond had infiltrated Mid Sector 101, seeking to poison it from within. And with that proclamation, he swore an oath — to cleanse every trace of corruption with his own hands.

From that moment onward, his crusade began. Hedrick’s armadas surged through the stars, hunting down the fleeing remnants, striking unrelentingly at every planet and hidden base where those invaders tried to rebuild. His campaigns were broadcast live across the sector — and soon, the entire universe watched, spellbound, as his fleets carved fiery trails of retribution through the heavens.

But even the brightest flames invite opposition.

Soon after, Lord Zarion, heir to the Behemoth of Savagery, descended upon the scene like a shadow tearing through the light. It was said he used an ancient Grand Spatial Portal, an artifact capable of bridging entire sectors in a single instant. Without hesitation, he launched a surprise assault — annihilating one of Hedrick’s fleets in a storm of crimson fury.

Then, before the watching eyes of billions, he issued a declaration that reverberated across the galaxies:

”Hedrick’s arrogance has grown dangerous to the cosmos itself. He strikes at young, peaceful forces who have done no harm. His tyranny will end — and I will be the hand that ends it.”

For the next three years... Nothing changed.

Despite Zarion’s words, Hedrick’s legions continued their campaign, cutting through unorganized factions like a lion prowling through a herd of helpless sheep. The scattered fleets lacked coordination, communication, or leadership — and Hedrick exploited that mercilessly. Before they could unite under Zarion’s banner, he struck again and again, eradicating them one by one until entire constellations fell silent.

Even now, scholars and strategists remain baffled. How had Hedrick’s forces achieved such absolute precision across distances spanning light-years?

Their coordination bordered on the impossible. Their movements were so exact that it seemed his generals were not dispersed among fleets, but gathered together in one vast war room — sitting around a single cosmic map, moving their fleets across it like pieces in a grand, deadly game of strategy.

Each move deliberate.

Each strike flawless.

And each victory a message to the universe — that the eldest son of destruction was far from finished.