Lord of the Truth - Chapter 1805

Chapter 1805: The dilemma
The Mid–Sector 101 — Shathar Planet.

“…..”

Hedrick sat motionless before the massive holographic map platform, elbows pressed heavily against its cold metallic frame, both hands clutching his head as though he were trying to contain a storm of thoughts threatening to tear through his skull. His posture alone looked like that of a man who had not slept in days, a commander carrying the weight of an entire starfield on his shoulders.

Before him hovered the detailed projection of the Cosmic Hammer Starfield, a region of space whose major worlds he had once conquered, stabilized, and brought under absolute control. Under normal circumstances, the sight would have been mesmerizing: glowing star clusters scattered like jewels, swirling nebulae blooming like cosmic flowers, and vast curtains of luminous dust drifting through the void—each cloud hiding stories of ancient wars, migrations, and civilizations long forgotten.

But Hedrick saw none of that beauty.

Through his strained, exhausted gaze, the starfield appeared as a wounded battlefield, a territory that had already lost more than half of its strength and structure, a once-stable domain now collapsing like a cracked celestial mirror.

The news that reached him was worse each passing day.

The four Guardians and the Monarchs —the most formidable figures from the accursed Darvion Galaxy and the savage Zavarus Galaxy— had managed to slip into Mid–Sector 101 and formally join the escalating conflict.

All four of them.

Every single one.

This should have been impossible. The representatives of the Radiance Galaxy were supposed to be mediating, negotiating, and working relentlessly to prevent a massive invasion. They had repeatedly claimed that they were holding the attackers at bay. Yet despite all that diplomatic noise, the four powerful figures had somehow infiltrated the sector.

So who exactly were the Radiance negotiators talking to?

And what kind of “negotiations” allowed four Law Domination Realm figures to pass through unnoticed?

But it didn’t stop there. The fleets themselves had begun to pour in.

In the most recent large-scale battle, no fewer than twenty fleets—all personally belonging to the accursed Darvion Galaxy—had appeared without warning, overwhelming the local forces and pushing the sector further toward collapse.

Hedrick, cornered and furious, released a public broadcast through the Soul Society and every major interstellar news channel. He described exactly what was happening: that all his major enemies had entered the sector, that the so-called diplomatic efforts at the sector’s gate were nothing but hollow theatrics, and that the Radiance Galaxy was failing miserably—if not intentionally allowing the invaders to infiltrate and slaughter his people.

His goal was simple: to publicly shame Radiance Galaxy into taking real action.

But the result was even more infuriating.

His pleas fell on intentionally deaf ears.

The representatives of Radiance Galaxy responded after several days with a polished, almost celebratory report claiming they had successfully forced back five fleets, claiming they had supposedly reduced the burden on Lord Hedrick—whom they described as fighting a personal war over a galactic seed. They insisted negotiations were still “actively progressing” and that everyone needed to remain patient.

Hedrick publicly stated that four Guardians and Monarchs had infiltrated the sector.

They replied proudly that they had pushed back five fleets…

Two stories that didn’t even belong to the same universe.

The only significant detail in their announcement was a subtle but deliberate shift: for the first time, they openly labeled Hedrick’s struggle as a personal war, positioning themselves as some noble, neutral third party working tirelessly to spread peace—while quietly letting his enemies march straight into Their territory.

No one could tell whether the Radiance representatives were unbelievably detached from reality, hopelessly incompetent, or blatantly provoking him on purpose.

But in the end, neither the public nor the military forces of the sector had the power to intervene. All they could do was watch events unfold with growing dread.

Only Hedrick himself was burning with a storm of rage—an internal fire so fierce he barely managed to stay seated. He wanted to act, to strike, to scream. But every option in front of him was a trap.

Should he step out and accuse Radiance Galaxy of active collusion with his enemies?

Should he claim they were intentionally letting enemy forces in, rather than merely failing to stop them?

Such an accusation would be nothing short of a formal declaration of intergalactic war.

And if Radiance Galaxy truly wished to retaliate, they could easily allow nearly a thousand fleets to enter the sector in a single coordinated wave.

If that happened…

Hedrick wouldn’t merely lose a battle—he would be annihilated beyond recovery.

And they absolutely could not allow those fleets to enter openly, because such a failure would shatter their reputation on a galactic scale and make their followers lose confidence in them entirely. For the Radiance Galaxy to rely on outside allies just to handle an empire that officially falls under their own protective authority… that would be recorded as a dark, shameful stain in their historical archives, a disgrace that future generations would mock endlessly.

Everyone understood the truth.

Everyone knew the opposing side was the enemy.

But no one—absolutely no one—had the courage to speak even a single word aloud.

And the result?

Hedrick was now cornered by five users of the seventh stage of Heavenly Laws—one in the south, and four more pressing hard from the west, each commanding a separate army after Lord Zarion divided their forces with military precision.

In fact, calling it “the west” had become meaningless. The four armies advancing from that direction had completely devoured the starfield’s upper and lower regions, sweeping through like tidal waves until they reached Shathar Planet itself. Their push was so intense that Hedrick was forced to perform a humiliating planetary evacuation using high-tier planetary transport equipment.

Simply moving the capital of the Crumbled Dreams Empire was like stabbing Hedrick’s pride directly in the heart. It was the type of humiliation that echoed through military channels and political forums alike. Still, he attempted to salvage whatever dignity he could by retreating deeper into the very same starfield, choosing not to flee entirely but to shift eastward and fortify the last territory available to him.

Now, in the simplest and most brutal terms, the Cosmic Hammer Starfield had lost its western front, its northern curtain, and even the central layers that once formed its backbone… Hedrick and his remaining forces had been squeezed into the far eastern edge like prey trapped at the corner of a collapsing battlefield.

Their only glimmer of hope now was the south.

There—thanks to the terrifying reinforcement of Note’s forty fleets—Marshal Fargus was able to detach a portion of his armada and send it to support Hedrick at a life-saving moment.

Their only glimmer of hope was the golden, earth-based juggernaut army that descended from Note’s fleets—battle-hardened soldiers who refused to surrender even a single inch of soil on any planet they stepped onto. They were like a radiant golden barricade carved into reality itself, a wall that did not bend, retreat, or falter.

Their only glimmer of hope was that young man with the emerald-green flame, a destructive force tearing through ground divisions left and right even though he held the same “martial emperor” rank as many others. His presence alone was turning entire confrontations upside down.

In the south, Hedrick had little to worry about unless Scurvian himself appeared. In that case, he would simply pass through a space portal to assist the defenders. Otherwise, he remained completely assured, knowing that the southern line was practically impenetrable.

But on every other front… Hedrick was being pounded relentlessly, hammered like a rare ore placed upon an anvil while several blacksmiths attempted to reshape it for their own agendas. He couldn’t even predict where the next blow would fall—east, west, orbit, surface, ground forces, or cosmic fleets. The chaos was suffocating.

Because of this unending pressure—after Marshal Tharn fully recovered his strength thanks to more than thirty million Pearls spent on treatment—both he and Marshal Livia withdrew from the frontline entirely. They could no longer stand against the alliance’s overwhelming power.

After the coalition armies split into four distinct forces, each consisting of nearly three hundred and fifty fleets, led by a Guardian or a Monarch at the helm, their coordination became terrifyingly efficient. They were no longer scattered across impossible distances where they could be isolated and hunted down. If Hedrick’s commanders even attempted their usual strategy of a pincer strike followed by rapid withdrawal, a Monarch or Guardian would simply appear, cutting down several fleets instantly and annihilating any chance of escape.

The war of attrition that had allowed Hedrick’s forces to destroy hundreds of enemy fleets…

Had now flipped entirely, becoming an attrition war against them—a slow, grinding, merciless crush of resources, morale, and territory.

Knock.

A heavy echo came from behind the massive fortified gate.

“My Lord, the Master of the Shadow Swords requests an audience.”

“…”

After more than a long minute of suffocating silence, Hedrick finally exhaled, opened his mouth, and spoke in a low, exhausted tone:

“Let him in.”