One hour later â Inside a grand luxury restaurant on Planet Zaron, nestled within one of the floating city-towers
Clink... clink...
The delicate sound of polished silver meeting fine porcelain echoed softly through the lavishly decorated hall.
Robin, seated in the very center of the dining area, carefully sliced through yet another piece of premium meat. The knife glided through the marbled flesh like a whisper through silk. He raised the piece slowly to his lips, as if conducting a ritual rather than having a meal, and closed his eyes.
He chewed.
"Hmmmm..." he exhaled deeply, his voice rich with satisfaction.
"Incredible. Just... incredible."
He remained like thatâsilent, savoringâfor a full minute. When he finally opened his eyes, they sparkled with an almost childlike curiosity. He scanned the multitude of dishes around him, then pointed to another.
"You are next."
Robin stood up, walked with poise across the extravagant stretch of tables, and began carving into a different dish. This time, he tore into it with a hint more eagerness, chewing as though rediscovering the joy of existence through his taste buds.
"..."
The rest of the restaurant had fallen into a stunned silence. Nobles, dignitaries, cultivators, mercenaries, all stopped mid-bite to stare at him. Their forks hovered in the air. Their mouths were slightly agape.
Because Robin hadnât just ordered a few dishes like any sensible elite.
He had ordered
everything
.
Every dish on the menu.
Every specialty from every region. Every delicacy, every rare meat, every soup, sauce, herb, and exotic ingredient this famed restaurant had spent decades perfecting.
And he hadnât ordered samples. No, he had demanded full servings.
"If this dish contains duck," he had told the chef, "bring me the
entire duck.
"
"If this recipe calls for the thigh of a beastâbring me the
whole thigh.
"
Thus was born a monstrous banquet, a surreal and gluttonous parade of culinary magnificence. More than half of the restaurant had to be cleared and rearranged just to accommodate the volume. Rows of tables had been lined up like soldiers on parade, bearing platters that shimmered with heat, color, and spice.
Robinâunbothered by staresâmoved from dish to dish with reverent appreciation, as if savoring the sacred secrets of the cosmos one bite at a time.
For the other guests, he was a puzzle. A madman. King of the extravagant.
But strangely... when many of them would return home that evening, something in them would feel
changed
.
Some would sit and write for the first time in years.
Some would break through a bottleneck in their cultivation.
Others would look at their partners, their children, their livesâwith new eyes.
No one could explain why. Only that watching him eat, hearing him... had
awakened
something.
Robin, meanwhile, held a spoon delicately over a bowl filled with shimmering silver brothâIce-Lizard Bone Soup, a rare delicacy brewed over 7 days beneath a cryo-lantern. He studied the soup like a scholar studies scripture.
"Patterns..." he murmured. "Everything is patterns. The food before me, the saliva in my mouth, the nerve signals firing in my brainâall patterns."
He dipped the spoon and took a sip, eyes narrowing.
"I, too, am a pattern. A living equation written in flesh and soul.
Truth
... Truth is the ability of seeing these patternsâcomprehending them as they weave through the vast membrane of space-time."
He lifted his gaze slowly, his voice rising with philosophical awe.
"Even space itself... is a pattern. A lattice of invisible threads. And yet... what are these threads really? What is
everything
made of? And why... why can I taste meaning in this fruit?"
He took a bite from a large crimson fruit the size of a closed fist.
"Mmm. This is delightful."
"......."
Many guests had stopped pretending to eat. Some stared blankly. Others looked inward, as if trying to understand their own essence. One noblewoman was on the verge of tears for no apparent reason.
(Is the food really that good?)
Neriâs voice broke through the moment in his mind.
Robin spoke aloud, uncaring of who heard:
"Whatâs truly astonishing is that all of thisâevery dishâgrew from the same soil, drank the same water... yet every single one has a distinct flavor, a different texture, a unique benefit. The duck and the wind-ramâthey grazed in the same fields, breathed the same air... but everything else about them is different."
He gestured toward a roasted giant duck and a slow-cooked leg of wind-ram.
"No mutual agreement, no shared destiny... yet they coexisted. Why? What defines identity? What makes one
thing
truly different from another?"
He sampled another dish, his tone becoming more somber, more grounded.
"I always come to restaurants like this after a deep retreat... or before a great upheaval. I order the best food, the widest variety I can afford... to remind myself of something."
He set down his fork.
"No matter how far I climb, no matter how much I conquerâat the end of the day, Iâm still small.
And no matter how great my ambitionsâI remain helpless in front of one simple truth:
I donât understand what I eat."
(Oh my, must you ruin every moment with your gloomy reflections?!)
Evergreen whined in his head, (The trouble of making profits is over, you are free to adventure now!)
"Iâm not so sure anymore..." Robin muttered, slowly reaching for another biteâbut his hand trembled slightly. His motions were slower now, almost reluctant.
"The truths of this universe... they donât reveal themselves to violence. They yield to stillness. To clarity. To silence."
He stared into the distance.
"I donât know if Iâll ever find that kind of stillness in the time I have left.
I donât know... if itâs even possible to find a way to elevate Nihari before her 700 years are over.
I just... donât know anymore."
(My lord...)
Neriâs voice came through calm and steady.
(I believe your next step is clear. Go to Mid-Sector 99. Meet with Holak. Force him to slow the pace of this madness. Only then will you see clearly. And besidesâHolak and the Imperial Guards will offer you the protection youâve lacked all this time.)
"Haha... Why do I feel like all this trip will bring me is headaches?" Robin chuckled darkly, slapping his forehead and standing up with a sigh. He dropped his utensils and clasped his hands behind his back, then looked around with a smile.
"But youâre right... staying here wonât help."
He turned to the silent guests with a wide grin:
"Todayâs feast is on me, ladies and gentlemen! Eat your fill! Donât hold backâhaha!"
And with that, he walked out with slow, heavy stepsâlike a man leaving behind a version of himself.
"......."
"
The duckâs mine!
"
"
Move aside, I saw it first!
"
Later that day â Near the massive orbital space portals of Planet Zaron
"Hmm~ hmm hmm~" Robin hummed lightly, a soft tune rising from his lips as he approached the towering structure before himâthe space portals he hadnât laid eyes on for over 170 years.
In this world... on this planet... he had spent an entire
lifetime
.
If he had married upon arrival... if he had children, and their children had children... by now, he might be a great-great-grandfather. The founder of a full-fledged bloodline.
"Hmm... I wonder if theyâd inherit an affinity for the Law of Truth?" Robin mused with a smirk. Then he laughed and shook his head.
It was a foolish thought.
For everything he had learned told him this: there is no such thing as a natural affinity for a Master Law.
The Truth Chosen are not born.
They are
shaped
.
Truth doesnât seek bloodlines.
It seeks decisions.
It watches, quietly, from the moment of birth. And only when oneâs choices align with the essence of reality itself... only then does Truth reach out.
Only then does it
choose
you.
His affinity for the Master Law of Causality?
Robin had dived deep into that question, peeling back layer after layer of his own being. What he found wasnât some grand blessing, nor a gift of divine birth. It was something else entirelyâsomething twisted.
It wasnât "affinity" in the classical sense, no.
It was more like... a wound.
A thread of fate, severed in the past, that had grown back wrongâtwisted into a
hypersensitivity
to any event that might once again attempt to alter his destiny.
You could even call it an illness. A metaphysical disorder.
What about spacetime users, balance users, and so on? Theyâve tracked down the law and comprehended it, thatâs all. But how many can find the law? How many can comprehend it once theyâve found it? Well... not many have.
But that, too, was natural.
These were not ordinary cosmic forcesâthey were the eight pillars that wove the material universe itself.
Who could be born with a
natural affinity
toward
Creation
,
Causality
, or
Identity
?
What kind of creature would that be?
Surely, it would not merely
exist
within the universeâit would stand above it. Beyond it.
A being like that... would be terrifying. A thing to worshipâor to fear.
A creature that could
cut the threads of cause and effect
at will, or
generate new realms
with a flick of its hand.
A being for whom the walls of reality were mere curtains to pull aside.
Robin exhaled softly, shaking his head.
Even one such existence... even just one... would be enough to topple the great balance of the multiverse.
...By the time he reached the stairway leading up to Zaronâs Grand Space portals, the sky had shifted color slightlyâhinting at the onset of dusk.
Robin stood in line behind a crowd of travelers. From nobles and merchants to mercenaries and cultivators, the queue was filled with men and women chasing futures only they could see.
He waited quietly.
Eventually, he reached a bored-looking official, slouched behind a counter stacked high with old paper forms. The clerk barely looked up.
"Iâd like to book passage to another sector," Robin said kindly, handing him a chip. "Sector 99. These are the planetary coordinates."
The clerk nodded lazily. "Thatâll be one thousand pearls."
"Of course," Robin replied, transferring the sum.
"Enjoy your travel."
Robin stepped aside. Yet, even before he fully turned away, the conversation was already fading from his mindâ
washed away
by the storm of thoughts rising once again inside him.
He had long ago made a decision that his path to the truth would be through the Master Laws.
That conviction had only grown deeper when he touched the First stage of the Law of Creation.
Something about it whispered to his soul. Like a voice long lost in time, calling him home.
But the path ahead had begun to fork.
Should he now chase Causality, that grand weaver of consequence and fate?
Or go deeperâinto the Second and Third Stage of Creation?
Perhaps the Fourth Stage of Spacetime?
His gaze dropped slightly, brows furrowed.
No...
The law that had haunted him most in recent monthsâthe one that
burned
in his thoughts even during sleepâwas Identity.
Bzzt!
The portal flared. One more traveler vanished in a silent flash of white-blue light.
Only two people remained ahead of Robin now.
Identity...
It might be the missing keyâthe reason why the
patterns
of existence were different.
If
Truth
was the vision that allowed him to see patterns, then
Identity
might explain How those patterns diverged.
Understanding that... would be like giving a tiger wings.
Bzzt!
Another traveler vanished. Only one remained before Robin.
But would it be wise to begin exploring a new Master Law when he already held fragments of Spacetime and Creation?
What if... what if the attempt corrupted his mind?
What if it
tore his soul in two
?
...And thenâjust as he was sinking deeper into thoughtâhe heard a voice. A voice that sliced through his mind like a whisper in a dream:
"Young man... your mind is far too distracted. That is a dangerous omen."
Robin blinked.
He glanced ahead. The last traveler in line stood before the portal.
He was shorter than Robin, wearing a shabby, tattered cloak, and over his head was draped a blanket so old it looked fossilized. He sat hunched. Yet despite this, his presence was
heavy
âoppressive, like a storm waiting to fall.
"Were you... speaking to me, elder?" Robin asked, cautious.
Bzzt!
The portal activated.
"Yes, you," the man rasped, still unmoving. "Why are you so uncertain?
Why not let your
master
lead you?"
Robin smiled gently, out of courtesy.
"Sadly, I donât have a master. But thank you for the advice. Iâll try to focus."
"No master?" the old man repeated, his tone turning... bitter. "How tragic."
And thenâvery slowlyâhe turned.
A horrible smile stretched across his face like a scar carved into wax. Beneath terrifying empty eyes, he grinned like a corpse that had remembered how to mock the living.
"Iâll be your master."
Robinâs body reacted before his mind did.
"
Oh shitâ!
"
He spun, pouring every drop of energy he had into his limbs, ready to tear Zaronâs skies apart and escpe.
That man...
That
thing
...
It was the same old man from the market!
"Heheheh..."
With a light motionâ
too fast to see
âthe old man raised one arm, grabbed Robin by the back of the neck like a child...
...and jumped forward.
Together, they vanished through the gate in a burst of light.
Bzzt!
The portal closed behind them like nothing had happened.
A soft silence fell.
The clerk blinked. The crowd remained still.
Only the portal remained, its energy fading...
...as if the two had never been there at all.
------------------------------
------------------------------
Tomorrow
Begins the ninth volume : Master