"Are you
still
rambling about me giving up the Law of Truth?" Robin furrowed his brows slightly, his tone laced with a hint of disbelief. "Why donât you just find yourself a bright young man to teach, someone eager and fresh? Master laws donât require any affinity. With your level of power, youâre bound to come across someone clever enough eventually."
The old man let out a deep, exhausted sigh.
"...Iâve been searching for 1.2 million years," he said solemnly. "Iâve sent countless copies of myself across an unthinkable number of planets, in every single sector. Each one bore a different test... all centered on the concept of balance. I wanted to see if the
idea
of balance even existed in their mindsâor if it had to be taught from nothing. And yet, every trial ended in disappointmentâeach one unique in its failure."
He pointed toward the islandâs heart.
"Donât get me wrongâitâs not that my expectations were impossibly high. Quite the opposite. In fact, this island... is full of them."
"Full of
what
?!" Robin turned sharply, looking behind him, senses on edge.
"Full of the remnants of Fateâs Children... the ones I once
chose
and brought here, handpicked, with hopes of passing on my legacy. Iâve lost count of them. All of them failed. All of them
died
here on this very island." The blind elderâs voice grew heavy with old sorrow. "Youâd think intelligence, talent, luckâor even good karmaâwould be enough to comprehend a master law. But thatâs not the case. You need something deeper... a
natural inclination
toward the law. You must
love
it. And only then, will the law love you in return... and accept you."
"Problem solved, I donât love balance," Robin said, raising an eyebrow, almost mockingly.
What nonsense was this old man spouting?
Love
? Did he love spacetime and creation then!?
"Youâre drawn to the lawâyou just donât realize it," the old man countered, stepping forward. "The moment you laid eyes on the test involving dark power and dark energy, you spoke of it instantly. It stirred something in your thoughtsâit
dominates
your subconscious, and youâre too blind to see it."
"Thatâs only because Iâm a seeker of Truth," Robin replied, stepping back cautiously. "Naturally, Iâm curious about all powerful forces."
The elder took another step forward, his tone intensifying.
"And that curiosity is
enough
! Just that spark alone... is more than I found in millions. Itâs enough to grant you a chance. A chance to succeed where they all failed."
Robin stepped back again, this time with a calm, polite smile.
"Unfortunately, my path lies elsewhere. Iâm devoted to the pursuit of Truth... but I appreciate your offer."
The old man froze. His face twisted slightly with annoyance, as if struggling to suppress growing frustration.
"Truth... I already told youâitâs worthless at its start, and
destructive
at its end. Why wonât you just
let it go
? I could grant you the full depth of my understanding of Balance, my entire legacy. Donât be swayed by Morpheusâs riches or Interasâs tyrannyâ
my
legacy eclipses them all. My name alone could shake empires. It could
carry
you."
"Heh~ Look, old man," Robin said with a soft chuckle, eyes firm. "Your offer is temptingâ
very
tempting, in fact. But there are many reasons I have to decline." He took another step back.
"FirstâIâm bound by missions I simply
cannot
abandon. I donât care what that person you mentioned did or didnât do. Iâm not him.
I
cannot walk away from my path."
He took yet another step back, his tone growing more resolute.
"SecondâI havenât found what Iâm looking for yet. My journey with Truth... is still far from over."
"...Could it be," the old man said slowly, his voice darkening, "that you
know
what awaits at the end of the path of Truth? Is that why youâre so desperately clinging to it?"
His face clouded with shadow, a simmering rage bubbling just beneath the surface.
"Maybe," Robin replied with a calm smile. "I donât know what kind of Truth
you
âve encountered... why donât you tell me first?"
He folded his hands behind his back, standing his ground now, avoiding another step back for fear of provoking the old man further.
"You have said it just a moment... without even realizing." The old man looked down toward the earth, as if recalling ancient memories.
"When you described why you started this journeyâwhy you walked this path in the first placeâyou said... âTruth is everything.â And you were right. You were absolutely right."
"I
know
Iâm right," Robin replied. His tone sharpened. "But what are you getting at?"
"Let me paint you a pictureâa metaphor I cherish," the old man lifted his chin slightly, eyes staring through the veil of time.
"Imagine, for a moment, someone preparing materials to build a house. Those raw materials? Thatâs
Primal Chaos
. The tools used to shape and prepare them?
Creation
. The four foundation you lay for the building? Thatâs
Balance
. The walls and the roof? Thatâs
Spacetime
. The ordered steps followed from start to finish? Thatâs
Causality
. And fact that the building a house and not, say, a sack of potatoes? Thatâs
Identity
."
He paused, then locked eyes with Robin with intense seriousness.
"What remains to complete the picture?"
Robin fell silent, his brows furrowed deeply, mind racing.
"...I donât know," he finally said.
"Think," the old man pressed. "There are still
two
master laws left. Or are you suggesting that they serve no purpose?"
"I..."
Robin lifted his hand slowlyâtremblingâas though trying to cradle his own head before it exploded under the weight of the realization.
The old manâs metaphor had made it clear: the house was a symbol... a simplified representation of the
universe
itself.
Robin had thought about this question many times beforeâover and over, chasing the answer through countless hours of contemplation.
He had asked himself:
What exactly is Truthâs role among the Eight Laws?
What is the function of the Eighthâif it even exists?
And every single time, he had come up short, unable to cross that final mental threshold.
"Wait..." he murmured, his eyes narrowing.
"In
that
particular example..."
His head slowly tilted upward as if pulled by an unseen force.
"Thereâs one element thatâs still missing. Just one that I can think of..."
His brows tightened into a sharp knot.
"...Who used the tools to prepare the materials? Who moved those materials and started applying them to build the structure?"
The old man smiled faintly, as if pleased but still patient.
"Good. Youâre almost there. But the real question isnât
who
âbecause the âOneâ youâre thinking of, the Origin, is also the source of the other Eight Laws.
He forged all of them. He forged
everything
.
In your question, asking
who
is like asking who bought the materials, who built the tools, who breathed existence into existence itself. Without the One, there would be no metaphor to analyze.
There would be no universe, no laws, no usâno
conversation
."
He tapped his fingers in the air slowly as if conducting thoughts.
"Our conversation isnât about the Prime Moverâbut about the
laws
, the
forces
, the
tools
used to bring form to the formless, things we can comprehend and perhaps control to a degree. The real question is:
What law governs the
actions
?
What law drives the movement, the use, the decision to build?"
Robinâs eyes widened. His mind raced. His voice burst out before he could stop it.
"
Consciousness?!
" he exclaimed.
Because in this metaphorâthis cosmic analogyâthere had to be someone who
moved
, who
acted
, who
chose
to engage the tools, shape the chaos, and build the cosmos.
Someone
aware
.
Someone
conscious
.
"Very close," the old man nodded slowly. "Very, very close... but not quite."
"You can possess consciousness," he continued, "and yet
choose
to do nothing with it.
You may be
aware
, yet entirely
unmotivated
.
If you have no
intention
to build... then nothing happens. Nothing
ever
happens.
The materials will remain untouched.
The tools will gather dust in the void.
And the houseâthe universeâwill never come into being."
Robin froze. A deep silence filled the space between them, then his breath caught in his throat.
"...So itâs not
consciousness
itself," he muttered. "But rather, something that
consciousness
must
do
..."
And then his eyes widened againâthis time even more violently.
As if a forgotten truth had just slammed into his soul.
"Itâs
Will
! The
Will
to act!"
The old manâs face softened, as though witnessing a student finally utter the answer no one else could reach.
"...Iâve always called it
Decision
," he said gently, "but âWillâ... yes, thatâs just as fitting."
"The
Eighth Master Law
... that elusive, mysterious one weâve all been trying to grasp... itâs Will!?" Robinâs body trembled, as though the weight of the concept was too much for his mortal frame to bear.
"Almost," the old man said with a slow exhale, voice now like an ancient wind.
"No one truly knows how to reach it... no one has ever wielded it, not even the oldest titans of the stars.
Every ancient power has speculated about it, just as we are now.
And each one gave it a different name.
Some called it
Decision
, others
Resolve
,
Intention
,
Will
,
Permission
,
Command
,
Decree
,
Choice
... and now
you
, you call it
Will
."
He leaned forward slightly, his voice a whisper wrapped in thunder:
"But in the end... the
first
being to grasp and master that lawâwill have the
right to name it
."
Robin remained silent, but his heart was racing. His mind, his soul, all of him was alive with fire.
"And now..." the old man slowly pointed his chin toward Robin, his voice growing colder, sharper, and far more intimate.
"Only one seat remains at the Master table.
One law left... untouched, unspoken...
Truth.
"
He pausedâhis blind eyes seemingly piercing through Robinâs very being.
"So tell me, Robin...
What is the role of Truthâthe law you hold onto so stubbornly, so desperately, as if your very existence depended on it?
What is the
purpose
of Truth... in this grand design?"