Lord of the Truth
Chapter 1381: The Guard’s Covenant

Chapter 1381: The Guard’s Covenant

Inside the Capital of the of the Ancestral Blood Empire — The Royal Hall

Drip... drip...

At the center of a towering hall gilded in gold and crimson banners, a silence heavy with disdain settled over the crowd—thousands in attendance, yet no one dared breathe too loudly. There, under the judgmental eyes of nobles and highborn warriors, knelt a bloodied young man. Naked, humiliated, and broken.

Blood trickled steadily from his nose and lips, pooling beneath him like an offering to the marble floor. His left arm was gone—ripped clean from the shoulder—and his right hand had been severed, leaving only a raw, cauterized stump. Even with his face half-buried in the ground, the agony etched into every trembling muscle of his body made one thing clear:

He had endured a nightmare few could imagine... and survived.

"Hmmm..."

Seated atop the grand obsidian throne was a figure whose skin shimmered with a reddish hue, as if perpetually bathed in the glow of freshly spilled blood. His garments bore the mark of ancient royalty—adorned with soul-thread embroidery and divine sigils—and his thick hair flowed in dark, sinuous tendrils that seemed almost... alive.

His attention, however, was not on the pitiful figure groveling before him, but on the item encased in crystal beside him: a full-body set of black armor. Sleek, brutal, elegant. It radiated an aura of silence, like a hunter that never missed.

The only blemish: a shallow dent at the chest, barely noticeable—but to those who knew what it meant, it told an entire story.

"Truly extraordinary," the Emperor on his thrown muttered, admiring the armor’s craftsmanship.

"That set withstood a strike from me—a strike fueled by a Nexus State level of power—and it didn’t shatter. That alone is worth a legend."

He gestured lazily toward the mangled prisoner.

"Even that fragile human... he survived the blow. Barely, but still."

"You were merely swinging casually, Your Majesty," said a man beside him, dressed in a flowing robe of dark blue silk and a towering ceremonial hat. He bowed with an overly cheerful grin.

"Had you been serious, you would have reduced both the man and the armor to ash. Still... this is indeed a marvel."

The Emperor leaned slightly forward, his crimson eyes narrowing at the glass.

"Have we traced its origin yet?"

"Unfortunately, no," replied the elder, stepping closer to the display case.

"Any artifact of Mid-Epic class or a above usually carries a title, a legacy. But this set? It’s a phantom. It doesn’t exist in the Soul Society, and it’s absent from all recorded chronicles. No name. No past. Nothing."

He tapped the glass gently.

"It’s a complete set, forged with exceptional uniformity—even the weapon matches its structure. And yet... there is no signature, no master mark. We believe this isn’t a one-of-a-kind piece. It’s mass-produced—one of several."

"Several?"

The Emperor’s voice hardened.

"Don’t be absurd. A single armor of this quality would cost... what? Half a million energy pearls at the very least, yes?"

He turned back toward the display, eyes gleaming.

"Even I, Emperor of the Ancestral Blood Empire, do not possess a set like this. You cannot simply buy it when one wants even if you have the money."

"But now, by fate or fortune, it is yours, Your Majesty," the elder replied gleefully, rubbing his hands together.

"Shall I gather the Empire’s finest artificers? They can study it—repair any flaws, even upgrade it."

Suddenly—ptuh!—a weak, spitting sound cut through the air like a blade.

The center of the hall turned its eyes toward the prisoner, who had somehow mustered the strength to raise his head slightly, one eye swollen shut, blood staining his teeth. His voice came out raspy—hoarse, ruined—but laced with venom:

"Upgrade it?" he croaked.

"Heh... not even in a thousand years. You wouldn’t understand that armor if you begged the stars to teach you, You miserable beggars."

A ripple of chaos tore through the noble crowd.

"What did he say?!"

"This barbarian dares speak to us like that?"

"Execute him—cut out his tongue first!"

"He tried to rob us, and now he calls us beggars?!"

Outrage erupted like wildfire. The floor trembled with stomping boots, and the sound of unsheathed blades rang through the chamber. In that moment, there was only one shared desire among all who stood beneath the Emperor’s gaze:

They wanted that prisoner dead.

He had first appeared a month ago—deep within the territories of the empire, specifically on a contested planet locked in a brutal tug-of-war with a rival empire. For reasons unknown, he annihilated both armies stationed there. Not just defeated—wiped out.

Within the span of a single week, he had methodically erased all traces of soldiers from both sides on that planet. During that time, World Cataclysms from both empires had been dispatched to hunt him down and eliminate the threat. But each time he slipped through their fingers.

Eventually, one of the Ancestral Blood Empire’s World Cataclysms managed to pin down his location and engaged him in direct combat. Simultaneously, he asked for reinforcements, hoping to trap the invader once and for all.

The stranger managed to escape again, but the World Cataclysm pursued him relentlessly, gambling on the hope that help would arrive before it was too late.

Just when that hope had nearly faded—He appeared.

His Majesty himself descended onto the battlefield, and with a single wave of his hand, brought the rampaging intruder down.

...In the roaring silence of the Royal Hall, with tension crackling like static, the Planetary Emperor raised a single hand—and the entire court fell silent as if struck mute.

He turned slowly to face the prisoner again, his voice calm but edged with steel:

"I captured you personally because I wanted to see the truth for myself... the Black Wasps causing havoc across Mid-Sector 99."

His eyes glinted.

"Do you have any idea how much the bounty is on each one of your heads? The last thing you should be worried about... is whether we can upgrade your armor."

Then he leaned forward, the hint of a confident smile curving his lips.

"By the way... after I announced your capture and released your image across the interstellar nets—do you think your fellow Black Wasps will come running to save you?"

He paused.

"Or will they let you rot in chains?"

"Hehe..."

The bloodied young man let out a low, raspy chuckle from where he lay broken on the floor.

"No amount of pearls placed on my head will change the truth. I’m afraid that even all the wealth of heaven and earth won’t turn back time enough to fix the mistake you just made."

The Emperor narrowed his eyes, raising an eyebrow.

"What nonsense are you mumbling—"

BAAAM!

A thunderous impact suddenly rocked the royal hall, shaking its foundations. A long decorative ornament atop the advisor’s hat came crashing down to the floor.

"What was that?!"

The Emperor shot to his feet, instinct flaring.

A soldier burst into the hall, face pale, voice trembling:

"Your Majesty! The city gate—it’s been destroyed!"

"Destroyed?! But the city is surrounded by a Grand Defensive Array. How could the gate be obliterated without triggering the formation?!"

The Emperor waved his hand, disbelief darkening his voice—this should not be possible.

"Heheheh... you fools..."

The prisoner’s voice tore through the tension like a serrated blade, sending chills down the spines of everyone in the chamber.

"It must be them... the Three Leaders have arrived... you’ve brought upon yourselves a storm you cannot withstand."

The crowd erupted in noise.

"You may have enmity against a Guard, but you do not dare one." the prisoner growled, eyes blazing,

"You may defeat a Guard— but you never humiliate one!!"

"What nonsense is he spewing now?! Seize him!"

The Emperor raised his arm again, ready to leap into action—ready to defend his city himself if necessary.

But then... something strange.

A presence. A force. A ripple in space-time itself forced him to pause and glance back toward the center of the hall.

The prisoner—no longer trembling—was rising.

"The Imperial Guards must not be insulted! The dignity of a Warden is sacred!"

His bloodied face lifted, eyes blazing with conviction, staring directly into the soul of the Nexus State Emperor.

Then... a low, bone-deep vibration began emanating from his body. Not sound, not heat—frequency. It shook the space around him, disturbing the very fabric of the hall.

"A Guard without honor... has no right to live."

His voice was a roar now, trembling with power.

"A disgraced Guard has no right to serve His Majesty!!"

The Emperor’s eyes widened in realization—something was wrong.

"Stop—!"

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!!!