Chapter 1676: Exorcism - Lord of the Truth

"....."

"........."

"Would you stop staring at my face already?!" Jabba finally lost his patience, his voice rising sharply toward Shaddad. "I know I’m handsome, but come on—this level of admiration is getting absurd!"

If Jabba had been in his true form—the towering, muscular body of a Nihari giant—he would’ve been the one gazing down at Shaddad like an adult humoring a curious child. But right now, the situation was flipped completely.

Shaddad stood beside him like a massive bear upright on two legs, his shadow blanketing Jabba entirely, studying his features with a seriousness that bordered on obsession. It was as though he wanted to engrave every curve, every twitch of expression, into his memory forever.

"What makes you so

special

, huh?!" Shaddad roared, his deep voice echoing like thunder in the confined space. "Your soul force is

zero

, your body’s strength is

zero

, your energy barely touches the

first level

! Tell me—what in the cosmos makes you stand out?!"

"I told you already!" Jabba waved his hand dismissively, his tone half defensive, half annoyed. "I had an accident that ruined my entire body! Maybe I was stronger than you when I was in my prime!" He tilted his head upward, unable to even see where Shaddad’s massive form ended in the dim light.

Shaddad frowned deeply, the lines on his face tightening as he tried to make sense of it. A sliver of belief crept into his heart. "Even if you

were

stronger than me once," he said slowly, his voice heavy with thought, "the elder brother doesn’t seek power in his disciple. What I’m asking is—what makes

you

special enough for him to choose?"

"...." Jabba fell silent. The question lingered between them like a physical weight. After a long moment, he shook his head gently. "I’m not special in any way," he admitted quietly. "The Master was the one who saved my life. Without him, I’d have died a hundred deaths in a hundred miserable ways."

"Then why

you

?" Shaddad shouted, his frustration boiling over. He jabbed Jabba in the shoulder with a massive finger that felt like a steel pillar. "Why are

you

his disciple and not

?! There’s nothing unique about you except that weak First-Level Truth Eye! I have a Third-Level one!"

"Huh?" Jabba blinked in surprise, turning toward him with genuine shock on his face. "You wanted to be his disciple... but he

rejected

you?" His expression twisted into a mocking grin as his eyes swept up and down Shaddad’s gigantic form. "How old are you exactly, old man? Don’t you think you’re a little

late

to be trying to become a student now?"

"Learning has no age limit, boy!" Shaddad snapped, waving both arms dramatically. "And what about

you

? You look like you’ve lived more than a century yourself! Among mortals, you’d be considered an ancestor, not a student!" His hand shot out again, jabbing Jabba’s shoulder a second time—this time deliberately playful, but still hard enough to make him wince. "And second," Shaddad continued, "what’s wrong with me wanting to follow him? Don’t you even realize the status your Master holds now among all the Truth Chosen in the entire universe?!"

"...." Jabba didn’t reply. Instead, he just looked into Shaddad’s eyes for several long seconds, unblinking, as if reading something buried deep within.

Those eyes—massive, dark, and alive—held real envy. But there was no hatred there, no malice, just an aching desire to understand, to reach the same light that Jabba once had.

Before that honest gaze, Jabba’s lips curved into a sly smirk. "So what you’re saying is... you want to be the

second disciple

, huh?"

"....." Shaddad, usually pure-hearted and straightforward, hesitated. Something inside him tensed—the kind of instinctive unease that warned him he was about to regret something. "...Yeah," he muttered, narrowing his eyes slightly, "what of it?"

"If that happens," Jabba said with exaggerated thoughtfulness, raising an eyebrow, "wouldn’t that make me your

senior brother

"...Yeah?" Shaddad’s jaw clenched, his teeth grinding slightly.

"Then stop poking me," Jabba said dryly. He reached up and

smacked

Shaddad twice on the backside. "Be a well-behaved Truth Chosen, and maybe—just maybe—I’ll recommend you to the Master myself."

"You’d do that... for me?!" Shaddad’s eyes went wide with astonishment and naive hope.

"Oh, of course," Jabba replied airily. "It’s embarrassing to be the only disciple, you know, People always waiting for something extra special from you." He waved a hand lazily, shifting the topic as if nothing had happened. "...By the way, what do you guys have around here to eat?"

"....."

...Robin continued channeling both his soul force and natural energy without pause for nearly an hour. Every breath he exhaled carried shimmering threads of energy that intertwined before him, coalescing into a vast and intricate pattern. He wasn’t merely drawing—it was more like sculpting the fabric of existence itself. The rune before him pulsed faintly with life, its countless layers woven from purple soul force and the Master Law of Creation itself.

Only when the preliminary design—a hollow mold that looked both ancient and divine—was complete did Robin finally open his eyes again.

Hummmmmmm

Golden light burst through the chamber, cascading like liquid sunlight. It rippled across the walls, then began to fold inward, wrapping itself around Robin’s body until he was completely encased in radiance. Complex runes began to shimmer across his skin, forming, collapsing, and reforming in a mesmerizing sequence.

Then came the deeper sound—

Oooooooooom

—as his condensed energy layers began to disintegrate, channeling through his right arm. His veins lit up like rivers of fire as pure power surged into the mold before him. The structure trembled under the weight of creation, its empty interior filling with dense, crushing energy.

Within seconds, the blinding light dimmed. The golden aura around Robin and in his eyes faded, leaving behind only exhaustion and a fine sheen of sweat glistening on his body. He exhaled slowly, every muscle in his frame relaxing at once. The pattern—his masterpiece—was finally complete.

Clap

"Magnificent... truly magnificent as always, Master."

"Hmm?" Robin’s head turned sharply at the sound of applause echoing behind him. His expression hardened, and a flicker of surprise crossed his face. "What exactly... is going on here?!"

At that moment, Jabba was seated comfortably on the floor, surrounded by a modest but appetizing feast. Plates of steaming food, bowls of glowing fruit, and golden cups filled with thick, honey-colored drink were scattered before him. His mouth and hands were smeared with traces of sauce, his sleeves stained, and his belly slightly puffed from overindulgence. Despite his messy appearance, he looked utterly content.

Beside him, Shaddad stood with the posture of an attendant rather than a warrior—a surreal image given his massive bear-like build. He held a crystalline bottle, pouring the shimmering liquid into Jabba’s cup with care before stepping back and clapping enthusiastically.

"Ahaha, this is nothing—truly nothing!" Jabba said, waving his greasy hand dismissively. "Little brother Shaddad was merely showing me some warm hospitality, since I’ve just arrived at the Academy. A gesture of welcome, you see. Please, don’t mind us. Continue what you were doing."

"Your

little brother

?!" Robin snapped his head toward Shaddad in disbelief.

The ancient being —older than some civilizations, with a body like a living fortress, a creature who could destroy worlds— was now standing awkwardly beside a much smaller man, as if caught committing a crime.

"Ahaha... hah... well..." Shaddad forced an awkward chuckle, his deep voice trembling with unease. He scratched the back of his neck and turned his gaze aside, pretending to admire the ceiling.

Robin’s expression darkened, suspicion flickering in his golden eyes. "...Suspicious," he murmured, his tone flat but sharp. "I’ll look into the two of you later." Then, without wasting another word, he turned back toward Morgana. "For now, I have work to do."

He extended his hand and began to push the radiant construct forward.

Ooooooooooomnnnnnnnnnn

The pattern—crafted specifically for Morgana, a masterpiece of precision and divine calculation—stretched outward like a living web of light. Layer upon layer of symbols unfolded, each glowing line humming with a unique resonance. The formation wrapped around her, sealing her gently yet completely, like a cocoon of creation itself.

For five entire minutes, silence reigned. The air trembled faintly, charged with energy. Even Jabba stopped chewing halfway through a mouthful, watching with mild curiosity. Then—

Something changed.

Morgana’s body tensed. Her eyes snapped open, mouth parting as if to scream—

"Haaaaaaa—"

From her eyes and lips burst a torrent of smoke, so dark it seemed to devour the light around it. It poured forth like liquid shadow, writhing violently. The sight was so horrifying that Jabba instantly froze, the piece of food still stuck in his cheek as he leapt to his feet. Even the fearless Shaddad took an instinctive step backward, his battle-hardened instincts screaming danger.

That smoke wasn’t merely ominous—it carried a presence that pressed against their souls, cold and hateful. Its aura was so heavy, so vile, that every hair on Shaddad’s body stood on end. He was certain that if the thing within the smoke were to take a physical form, it could crush him with ease.

And indeed, his fear took shape before his eyes.

"...Gaaaaaahhhhhh///"

The black smoke began to condense, swirling rapidly until it molded itself into a figure—one that faintly resembled Morgana, yet felt utterly wrong. Her features were twisted, her skin shadowy and insubstantial. From the void of her face gleamed two eyes like molten rubies, pulsing with infernal rage. Those crimson lights looked like gateways straight into hell. The shriek that followed was sharp enough to make the air itself vibrate—high, distorted, agonizing. Everyone in the room knew instantly: this was no longer the gentle, beautiful girl lying on the bed. This was something else. A

monster.

BAM!

The specter hurled itself against the golden barrier containing it, sending waves of energy through the chamber. But the cocoon held strong, not even a crack appearing.

"Kiieeeehhhhhh!!" it screamed, voice layered with fury and despair.

BAM!

Robin’s gaze hardened as he studied the abomination before him. What he was seeing wasn’t merely a ghost or parasite—it was a

parallel entity

, a mirrored being born from Morgana herself. It contained every one of her memories, every fragment of her strength, every spark of her existence. If it were allowed to fully separate, it would tear away her entire soul domain and leave her an empty husk.

A unique phenomenon... perhaps one that existed nowhere else in the known cosmos.

If he could somehow purify and reshape this thing—turn it into a soul creature—it would become a weapon of unimaginable value. But to do so would mean sacrificing Morgana’s life completely.

Robin didn’t hesitate for even a breath. His voice was calm, commanding, absolute. "Enough of this madness," he declared, raising his hand. "You’ve infested this vessel for hundreds of thousands of years. It’s time... for your cleansing!"

Shhhhhhhhhh

Columns of searing white and golden light burst into existence above the specter, spearing through it like divine lances. The room shook from the force, the air filled with the sound of burning ether.

"KIiiiiiiiiieeehhhhhhh///" The creature screamed, thrashing wildly, smashing its head against the barrier again and again in blind agony.

BAM!

BAM!!!

The sight was terrifying. Energy flared, smoke hissed, and the barrier rippled like molten gold.

Shaddad instinctively moved closer to Jabba, his massive frame trembling slightly despite himself. He leaned down and whispered, "Big brother... this is terrifying. Does the Master always do things like this?"

"Don’t worry, don’t worry," Jabba replied, trying to keep his tone calm, though his expression betrayed his own unease. He patted Shaddad’s arm reassuringly, his voice carrying an exaggerated confidence. "Your big brother’s here. Everything’s going to be fine."