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Inside one of the buildings of the Stellar Dawnlight Academy-"..."
Robin wielded Seraphim with almost inhuman precision, guiding its tip as he drew an extremely sharp line-so fine it was nearly invisible to the naked eye. The moment the stroke was complete, he lifted the pen and pressed his free hand against his chest.
"Haaaah!!!"
It looked as if he had been submerged beneath water for an entire hour and had only now broken through the surface to breathe. His lungs dragged in air greedily as he continued to pant, though the rhythm slowly began to stabilize. "Hoo... hooo..."
Nearly a full minute passed with his eyes shut tight, his face tilted upward toward the ceiling. Gradually, Robin managed to calm his ragged breathing and rein in his erratic heartbeat. When he finally exhaled in relief, a faint smile crept onto his lips...
"Hehe~"
As the small chuckle slipped free, Robin opened his deeply sunken, exhausted eyes and turned his gaze back toward the desk in front of him-toward the wooden plate resting gently on its surface, lying beside five other identical pieces, perfectly aligned.
He was staring at his completed masterpiece.
"Hehe... haha!!!"
Suddenly, Robin burst into laughter, weak at first, then louder and louder despite his fatigue.
"Finally... finally, hahaha!!"
He stepped forward, carefully gathered all six wooden plates together, and pulled them into a tight embrace.
"Ahh~ how many years have I waited for your completion, my beloved children?"
From the side of the room, Arkalon stopped what he was doing and stared in disbelief as Robin passionately kissed the six wooden plates one after another.
"There is something seriously wrong with you."
"Shut up!" Robin snapped back. His sunken eyes were already beginning to recover their sharpness, and even his once-gaunt body showed visible signs of vitality returning.
"A wretched, filthy, insignificant soul creature like you could never comprehend the greatness of these six plates."
"Then give me a single benefit," Arkalon replied coolly, crossing his arms over his chest.
"You magnificent, not-wretched, not-filthy, not-insignificant master. You even abandoned your studies of the sixth path-the one you're always bragging about-just to finish those plates."
"First of all, I did not abandon the sixth path," Robin said, raising his index finger.
"I entrusted the sixth path to a stable consciousness that contemplates it day and night. It has already devised several solutions. They're not perfect, but they're solid-and there's clear progress."
He lifted his finger higher.
"And second, I'll give you many benefits for working on this project-enough to shut you up completely."
Another finger rose.
"First benefit: working on these six plates pushed my understanding of Truth Runes to an unprecedented level. Not only did I complete two full runes- making me the first person in history to accomplish such a feat-but my comprehension of all remaining runes is increasing at a ridiculous rate!"
"That's because you keep destroying your own foundations just to draw!" Arkalon shouted angrily.
"What does that have to do with the plates themselves? What practical use do they even have?"
"Don't drag me into side topics," Robin waved dismissively.
"Second benefit: my grasp of the third level of the spacetime law has almost reached its absolute peak. Compared to seven hundred years ago-when I defended myself against the impatient Helen using it-my current understanding is like the difference between heaven and earth. With just a slight push, I can reach the fourth level. I'm absolutely certain of it!"
He raised a third finger, his expression turning solemn.
"Thirdly-"
"Thirdly what?" Arkalon scoffed with a mocking grin.
"Did working on them improve your handwriting?"
Robin's brows knit together slightly. After a brief pause, he asked in genuine
seriousness,
"...How did you know?"
Bam!
Arkalon hurled his pen straight toward Robin's head.
"You're an irresponsible master who wastes time on nonsense!"
Whoosh!
Robin dodged the flying pen with ease and pointed sharply at Arkalon.
"And you're an insolent soul creature who desperately needs to learn some
manners!!"
He rolled up his sleeve and stepped toward Arkalon with clear aggression.
Knock Knock
"Hm?"
Robin halted mid-step and turned toward the door in surprise. Even Harper knew better than to interrupt him-especially after not doing so for the past five years, ever since Robin had drawn close to completing the sixth plate.
So then... who had come now?
He then raised a single eyebrow, a trace of surprise flickering across his face.
"Leonid Burton?"
This was the young man Richard had dispatched during the invasion of Jura, entrusted with delivering critical intelligence to Robin at the height of the chaos. That same youth had later carved out his own legend, steadily rising until he became the second sword, replacing the hero Charles himself. Whenever Theo was absent, every one of the Shadow Swords instinctively turned to Leonid for leadership-even the other numbered swords, each of them fearsome in their own right.
Still mildly puzzled, Robin lifted his hand and casually waved it through the air. The soul force locks saturating the door unraveled one by one and dissolved.
"Come in."
"Apologies," Leonid said as he opened the door. The moment he stepped inside, he dropped to one knee without hesitation.
"Greetings to Your Majesty."
"That isn't required of you as a Ranked Sword. Get up." Robin motioned to him briskly, clearly unbothered by ceremony.
"It may not be required," Leonid replied evenly, "but it brings me honor." He completed a full bow first, then slowly rose to his feet, his gaze fixed on
Robin as if he were staring at a hero from some distant age. After all... centuries
had passed since he had last seen him with his own eyes.
"Hmm. Your affinity toward darkness is excellent," Robin said, nodding with a
faint, approving smile.
"And your continuous consumption of high-grade elixirs has amplified it significantly." His eyes narrowed slightly.
"At this rate, your path toward the Nexus State is almost guaranteed-assuming, of course, that you manage to keep your head attached to your body until that
day arrives."
"If I fail to preserve my life, and die along with the information I carry," Leonid
replied firmly,
"then I will have failed as a Shadow Sword. And I have no intention of betraying Your Majesty's trust."
The joy on his face at receiving Robin's praise was unmistakable.
"A commendable resolve," Robin said calmly. "Very well-what brings you here>
today?"
He crossed his arms, his tone sharpening slightly.
"Did something major occur that requires the presence of the second sword?...
Is everything stable in Mid Sectors 97 and 101?"
Among all the raging battlefronts, the situation in Mid Sectors 97 and 101 was unquestionably the worst-and also the most volatile. No matter how meticulous the strategies or how immense the financial backing, confronting Behemoths was never something that could be calculated with reason alone.
If
a Behemoth chose to move personally, accompanied by its closest followers, it could erase every obstacle in its path, slaughtering the majority of Robin's high-ranking subordinates in a single sweep.
Of course, such a victory would not grant true territorial control, which was precisely why the Behemoths restrained themselves to acting through their armies. Even so, a single decisive strike of that scale could stall Robin for a
dangerously long time-a luxury he simply did not possess.
Especially the Sorcerer Behemoth Zargul.
He could move at any moment.
He had been pushed too far, humiliated too deeply-far beyond what the pride
of a recognized Behemoth could tolerate. Thus, while the Savage and the Cursed played the role of aggressors on the surface, the Sorcerer was, in truth, the one trapped from both sides-forced into a defensive position.
"No, my lord. Everything there is proceeding along its expected trajectory,"
Leonid answered quickly.
Then his expression darkened, unease clearly surfacing.
"A... highly important visitor requested an audience with you. I deemed it best
to escort him personally."
"A visitor?" Robin tilted his head slightly, his interest piqued.
Leonid's expression made it clear that this was not someone even he could
easily handle.
Was it the offspring of a Behemoth? Something equally troublesome?
"...It's Your Majesty's son."