Somewhere deep within the vast and ancient folds of the cosmosâ
BZZZT
"Whaaa!!" Robin let out a sharp cry as he was violently ejected from a swirling space portal, only to come crashing down
face-first
with a dull
poof
against the rocky soil.
But he didnât stay down. "Damn it!" he cursed under his breath, gritting his teeth. With a swift, practiced motion, he pushed himself up on his arms, then distributed his weight across all fours, eyes wide with urgency.
The space in front of himâdistorting, warping, melting like a mirage in the heatâwas unstable. That teleportation was supposed to launch him to the far side of... whatever planet this was!
But thenâ
BZZZT!
The portal behind him sparked again, flickering ominously.
"Would you stop with these childish antics already? The matter is settled."
WOOOOOOM...
In the very next breath, Robin felt the space around him harden, stabilize, and return to its natural stateâas if someone had pressed "pause" on the very fabric of reality. His technique was shut down, nullified before it even began.
"This is
really
bad," he muttered to himself as he sprang up to his feet, spinning around in place like a cornered animal. His sharp eyes scanned every direction, desperate to understand just what kind of nightmare heâd landed in this time.
...The nightmare appeared, oddly enough, to be an isolated islandâdeserted, silent, far too calm.
He stood upon a stretch of golden sand, waves from an endless ocean stretching before him in every direction. Behind him, tall palm trees swayed gently, whispering secrets to the breeze.
The only thing that broke the illusion of a tropical paradise was the presence of a massive, ancient space portalâoverrun by moss, crawling vines, it seemed like it was never used since decades!
"Where... where the hell am I?! What
is
this bizarre place?!"
Robin shouted, bewildered beyond words. Who in their right mind would construct a spatial portal on an abandoned island like this? And why?
Then, as if remembering a presence he momentarily forgot, he turned toward the blind old man, rage rising in his chest.
"And what the hell do you want from me?!"
"As for your locationâdoes it even matter?" the old man replied with a light chuckle.
"Youâre still within the middle sector, at the very least, hehehe..."
He laughed, his mouth spreading into a near-toothless grin, and began to approach slowlyâhis back hunched, hands clasped behind him, each step echoing with eerie calm.
"As for what I want from you... I already told you. I will be your master, your teacher."
"I donât
need
to be taught by anyone!"
Robin snapped back, stepping away with every step the old man took forward. His fingers twitched, and the look in his eyes sharpened. His mind was racingâwas this the right moment to risk a spacetime escape? Could he even pull it off?
"I donât intend to harm you. Thatâs what really matters, isnât it?"
The old man stopped, standing still just a few paces away.
"Iâve been watching you for a long while now. I believe youâre ready. Reckless? Yes. Short-sighted? Certainly. But ready, nonetheless."
"...âFor a whileâ? âA long whileâ?!"
Robinâs voice rose in outrage,
"You creepy, twisted old man! We crossed paths
once
over 170 years agoâand youâve been stalking me
ever since?!
Donât you have
anything
better to do with your damn life?!"
"No."
The old man raised his non-existence eyebrow in the most casual, matter-of-fact way imaginable.
"In fact, I learned everything I needed about you during the very first year. That was enough. I decided then and there to make you my disciple. But you seemed a little... preoccupiedâchasing money like a rabid dog for reasons beyond my understanding. So I waited... I gave you time to get it out of your system.
Shouldnât you be
grateful
for that?"
"Oh yes, thank you so much for
not
kidnapping me
earlier
and waiting a
mere
170 years instead!"
Robin clapped his hands mockingly, a forced, sarcastic grin spreading across his face.
"But no, reallyâI donât want a teacher. And forgive me if this sounds arrogant, but I donât
need
one. Thereâs no one alive who can teach me anything."
"And why would you believe such a thing?"
Genuine confusion flickered across the blind old manâs weathered features.
"Is it because youâre the Chosen of Truth, O great Lord Human?"
"...."
Robinâs brow furrowed deeply, his gaze darkened. He didnât answer right awayâbut he wasnât shocked either. After all, the man had supposedly been observing him for more than a century. It would be strange
not
to know about that title.
What unsettled Robin more... was
how
the old man had learned all this.
He had always been careful. Always.
Every few minutes, heâd unleash his spiritual sense to scan the entire hotel. He placed layered perception-blocking formations. The Soul Society themselves had deployed agents to guard the buildingâs perimeter. Every precaution taken, every angle covered...
And yetâthe old man spoke as if heâd been sitting beside him
the entire time.
"Forgive this old fool," the elder finally said, shaking his head,
"But that belief of yours? Thatâs pure ignorance."
He raised his chin slightly, as if peering at Robin through invisible eyes.
"The Law of Truth is a Master Law in
name
only. But what strength does it truly offer? It is merely a method for youâa spyglass through which one may glimpse the other heavenly laws, copy them, and hand them down like candy to the lazy and unworthy."
"Take that back!"
Robinâs eyes blazed with fury, his brows drawing into a sharp V.
"You have
no right
â
none whatsoever
, you senile, gas-leaking relicâto speak so casually about a Master Law!"
"Names. Titles. Nothing more."
The blind old man waved a hand dismissively, as though swatting away an annoying thought. Then, without another word, he turned his back to Robin and faced the endless, heaving sea, its waves crashing rhythmically in the distance.
"I know youâre not just some average wielder of the Master Law of Truth. Iâve seen what youâve built... Iâve even bought a few of your devices, to be honest."
He chuckled softly, shaking his head.
"They werenât bad at all. You have a mind that works like a hive of restless beesâconstantly buzzing, tirelessly active, refusing to slow down. That is rare."
He pointed toward Robin twice with deliberate fingers.
"You
âyouâre the remarkable one, Robin. Not the Law of Truth."
"Putting aside the undeniable fact that I
am
exceptional..."
Robin lifted his head slightly, looking at the old man like heâd just uttered a blasphemy against the universe itself.
"You donât have the faintest idea what youâre talking about. Youâre dismissing something sacred, something ancient beyond comprehension. The eight Master Lawsâthose that
birthed
the cosmosâthey arenât just labels. They are
primordial forces
, divine in essence, and beyond the grasp of superficial minds."
"Hehehe... True. Very true."
The blind man nodded several times, his expression unreadable beneath his wrinkled face.
"Tell me then, disciple... have you ever heard whatâs whispered about the Ultimate Power of the Truth Law?"
"I am
not
your disciple!"
Robin snapped, waving his hand angrily in the air, but despite his defiance, there was a gleam in his eyesâa reluctant curiosity.
"...What is it they say?"
"Hmhmhm... Then it seems your first lesson begins
now
, my rebellious disciple."
The old man grinned knowingly, clearly enjoying himself as he emphasized the word "disciple" again.
"You see... the Master Law of Truth has always been an enigma. A puzzle. A contradiction. Unlike the six other well-known Master Laws, it doesnât move the stars, or bend time, or give birth to galaxies. It doesnât heal, destroy, or govern the rhythm of life and death.
It does one thing onlyâit
sees.
It observes.
It reveals the true nature of all thingsânothing more, nothing less.
You could say that the Law of Truth is the universeâs mirror, showing everything exactly as it is, stripped bare of illusions, masks, or pretenses."
"..."
Robin didnât interrupt. He nodded slightly, contemplative.
He had long suspected something similar. There was always a strange overlap between
truth
and
identity
âas if they were two halves of a deeper whole.
Connected. Intertwined. Yet fundamentally distinct.
Identity defined what a thing
was
âwhy the essence of fire was not the essence of water, why stone would never flow like air.
A user of the Law of Identity could reshape reality itself, changing one thing into another, altering the core blueprint of existence.
But Truth?
Truth merely
watched
.
It saw the change. It studied the shift. It observed the nature of the alteration and chronicled it in silent awareness.
If anything, Truth was like the
younger sister
of Identityâforever trailing behind, eyes wide open, recording everything, understanding nothing, yet seeing
all.
"...But that alone isnât enough," Robin said at last, his voice lower now but no less intense.
"That taskâhowever nobleâisnât enough to justify its place among the Master Laws."
The old man bowed his head, the air around him growing heavier, as though the wind itself was pausing to listen.
"And that is the question," he murmured.
"The same question that has haunted the greatest sages, scholars, and cosmic minds across the stars for millionsâperhaps billionsâof years.
Why?
Why is the Law of Truth given such exalted status? What secret does it hold? What destiny does it serve?"
He turned his head slowly, eyesâthough blindâlocking onto Robin with piercing weight.
"Do you want to know what we discovered after all those million of years of searching? After all the speculation, the meditation, the failed experiments, the forgotten prophecies?"
"What?"
Robin leaned forward slightly, voice taut, drawn in despite himself.
"..."
The old man took a long breath, and when he finally spoke, it was a whisper wrapped in thunder:
"It is the Law... responsible for the
end of the universe
."