Lord of the Truth - Chapter 1803

Chapter 1803: Jumping on thin ropes
“Messages?” Robin furrowed his brows slightly, a faint crease forming between them. “From whom exactly?”

The last time he had bothered to open his inbox, he had responded to all the lords in a deliberately vague, sweeping manner that settled their concerns and closed the door on any need for further replies. He thought that would buy him decades of silence.

“There are many direct messages addressed to you, Human Lord — tens of millions of them, piling up nonstop. However, there are four specific messages that might hold greater significance for you personally.” Timari spoke calmly, and with a graceful wave of her small hand, a floating list materialized, displaying four names glowing faintly:

< Sword-Theo2 … Lord Hedrick … Lord Damir … Lord Saher … >

“Theo? Open the message immediately.” Robin’s brows tightened at once, a sudden sense of unease tightening in his chest. Why in the world would Theo use the Soul Society for communication?

In the very next heartbeat, Theo’s face appeared — calm, composed, yet dark and deep like the surface of an ancient, bottomless well:

<Your Majesty, if my envoy has already reached you before you receive this message, then simply ignore it. But if this reaches you first, then please respond at the earliest possible moment… The preparatory phase of the plan we discussed concerning Lord Hedrick has been fully completed, and it is time to step into the real, decisive stage. I request your authorization to begin openly supporting Lord Hedrick.>

“…” Robin released a long, heavy exhale and lowered his gaze, pondering.

Theo was currently operating in the mid-level Young Sector 101. Any direct message sent to Robin through a Shadow Sword would take one to two full years to arrive. The fact that he resorted to sending a message through the Soul Society — sacrificing secrecy and choosing speed — meant the matter carried extraordinary urgency.

And it truly was… dangerous.

After a short pause, Robin pressed the reply button and spoke with a steady voice,

“Proceed exactly as we agreed before. I’ll provide you with an additional shipment of Pearls. Use whatever amount you need for Sector 101, and distribute the remaining balance according to your judgment among the three Empires and the Academy.”

Once he finished, Robin lifted a hand and massaged his forehead slowly… The situation was extremely delicate. Whatever Theo intended to trigger would create massive waves — perhaps even continent-shaking ripples — very soon.

But what must happen… inevitably must happen.

“Timari, transfer sixty-five billion pearls to Theo.” Robin commanded with firm resolve.

“Right away!” The fairy, already used to such astronomical requests, executed it without hesitation. “Would you like me to open the remaining messages for you as well?”

“….” Robin remained lost in thought for several heartbeats before he finally decided to push the weight of everything aside and trust that Theo would handle the mission flawlessly, as he always had. Trusting Theo was easier than trusting fate.

Then he raised his head.

“…Show me Lord Hedrick’s message.”

“At once!” Timari replied cheerfully, preparing the message while explaining, “This message arrived thirteen years ago and has been patiently waiting since then.”

In the next moment, a moving image of Hedrick appeared — brief, sharp, and minimal: {Thanks.}

And with that, the message ended.

“Hehe~ Don’t thank me yet, partner. What lies between us is far from finished.” Robin chuckled lightly, waving the message window aside with an amused gesture.

“Aren’t you going to respond, Human Lord?” Timari tilted her head, her tone curious. “Lord Hedrick is a man of very few words and holds considerable prestige — even more so after his ongoing cosmic war. Despite being on the losing side, his reputation has risen dramatically… That simple ‘thank you’ must have been incredibly heavy and difficult for him to utter.”

“I will wait for him to express it through actions, not empty words.” Robin waved casually, though his tone carried a sharper edge. “I don’t have anything to say to him. Who’s next on the list?”

“It is from Lord Damir,” Timari replied as she brought up the next holographic window. “The eldest son of the Behemoth of Curses!”

“….” Robin’s brows tightened again, a faint flicker of suspicion crossing his expression. Why would Damir reach out now, and for what purpose?

Their last correspondence had ended with Damir offering him a sizable number of curses for sale — a gesture meant to solidify their budding alliance. Robin had agreed, instructing him to send all the goods under the name of a Human within the Soul Society, where payments would automatically reach the Curses Galaxy.

After that, he privately ordered the Shadow Swords to collect those curse shipments and forward them directly to Sky Opening City.

Was Damir reconsidering the trade because of the war? Or was something far more complicated unfolding?

By Robin’s estimates, a massive commercial exchange had taken place between them — nearly one hundred and seventy million Pearls worth — all of it consisting of high-tier curses: blood curses, body curses, soul curses, misfortune curses, and several other specialized variants. Damir had shown neither hesitation nor restraint; he had poured quality and quantity alike into their deal.

In the following second, Lord Damir’s composed, aristocratic face appeared before Robin:

<Human Lord, my greetings. I have been reflecting on our previous exchanges and concluded that the level of trade between us is far from sufficient. What do you think about doubling it? Furthermore… I have come to feel that our curse-crafting methodologies may have grown somewhat outdated. Would you be open to discussing ideas to evolve and advance them?>

“Hehe… hehehehe…” Robin leaned forward, resting his forehead on his interlocked fingers, shaking with restrained laughter.

Sky Opening City had squeezed every possible benefit from the materials he bought from Damir. Using them as foundational components, they manufactured the Anti-Curse agents — the miraculous formulas that were still enabling Hedrick and his armies to remain standing even now.

Without those Anti-Curse compounds, Marshal Tharn would have been dead within the first year of the war. In fact, the entire cosmic war might have wrapped up in no more than five short years — crushed decisively.

And because of those new Anti-Curse technologies, the greatest economic pillar of the Cursed Darvion Galaxy had taken a brutal, bone-crushing hit. Robin could imagine the chaos spreading through their market, the panic, the shattering decline in demand for every curse-based product they sold.

There was, however, still a thin stone holding the collapsing dam together — the fact that Sky Opening City had not released those Anti-Curse formulas to the open markets. For reasons unknown, they were still reserved exclusively for Hedrick and his military forces. The moment those formulas became accessible or commercially available, the Cursed Darvion Galaxy would lose its single largest economic artery forever.

Unless, of course, they could somehow develop something powerful enough to exceed the Anti-Curse.

Robin pressed the reply button, his tone warm yet sharp:

“Lord Damir, it would be my honor to deepen our collaboration. And why stop at doubling our trade? Let us raise it to four times its current scale. It would be a privilege to become your largest importer.” Robin smiled broader, adding,

“As for development — yes, I heard about that unfortunate event in the recent cosmic conflict, regarding the Anti-Curse issue. I do have several ideas to completely circumvent that problem — concepts that would render the Anti-Curse entirely ineffective. However… I fear such innovations may be rather costly. I trust you understand the implications.”

He hit send without hesitation.

“Heheh… Theo is going to enjoy this far more than he should,” Robin murmured to himself, laughing quietly and clapping both hands together in amusement.

A few seconds later, he pointed toward the final message hovering in the air.

“Lord Sahir… Who is that exactly?”