Lord of the Truth-Chapter 1195: Conversation with an Overlord-3

"...I want everything, Robin Burton. Absolutely everything."

Robin let out a sharp clap, the sound echoing with a casual boldness. "Well then, that's easy!" he said with exaggerated cheer. With a grin creeping across his face, he leaned back, kicked off his sandals, and—without a hint of hesitation—began unbuttoning his shirt.

Renara's soul shard turned away in a snap, visibly flustered. Her voice was sharp and tinged with disbelief. "What are you doing?! Have some decency! Show at least a shred of etiquette!"

"Oh?" Robin tilted his head, a mock-innocent smile spreading across his lips. "Didn't you say you wanted everything? I just assumed you were being literal." Then, with a sudden shift, the humor in his face evaporated, replaced by a cold, controlled seriousness. "You see, Renara, sometimes we throw out words like they're light feathers... but some words carry the weight of mountains. When you say 'everything' so simply, it loses its meaning. Or worse—it starts sounding ridiculous."

Slowly and deliberately, he rebuttoned his shirt, his gaze locked onto the ethereal image of Renara's soul shard, eyes like daggers of ice. "Let me make something very clear. I didn't inherit this empire from my Dada. I didn't stumble into it. I built it. From nothing. From ruin. With my own hands. Every soldier who salutes, every general who commands, every tower rising in that living city you saw outside—they're mine. Every single thing out there belongs to ME."

He dropped back into his seat with a casual sprawl, arms spread as if claiming invisible territory. "...Apologies for my little stunt earlier. I thought we'd started tossing sanity out the window. I figured I'd play along."

"Robin Burton!" Renara's voice snapped like a whip, her soul fragment trembling with restrained fury. She clenched a translucent fist, her tone harsh. "Don't let this shard deceive you. You're not speaking to some petty noble or a lesser clan leader. You're not dealing with a rival or a subordinate. I am not someone you can afford to speak to with arrogance! Not now. Not ever!"

Robin gave her a slight bow from his seat, a mockingly polite smile stretching his lips. "Of course, my lady. You have my utmost respect. Believe me, I know exactly what it means to forge a conscious soul shard and anchor it in a distant belt. I know how significant it is to house a fragment with twenty thousand soul units in a place like the Young Belt. I can only imagine what kind of force you command at full strength."

He paused, then looked up again—calm, cold, and composed. "...But still. Does that really give you the right to demand everything I've built? Everything I've earned? With all due respect... that notion is absurd."

Renara's image scoffed. "And what, exactly, do you think I want, Burton? Your little stash of trinkets? Your minor planetary holdings?" She waved a spectral hand dismissively. "I govern an empire that spans ninety-one planets—each feeding my armies, my scholars, my factories, and my influence. This little rock of yours? This barely-developed planet that just crawled past the Dwarf-Class threshold? It wouldn't even register on my map. Even if I found it abandoned in the Mid-Belt, I might pass it over. It's barely worth the troops it would take to patrol."

She folded her arms, tone cooler now. "Keep your meager resources, Robin Burton. I'm not here to rob you. I want what you've created—how you've created it. I want the blueprint to that living city you've woven into the land outside. The design of the War Domination Arrays standing beside your spatial portals. I want the schematics for that warship of yours, the blueprints for those epic-tier armor sets, and the materials and alchemy needed to forge them. I want the method behind that strange black flame your son wield... and of course, any other delightful little secrets you've tucked away."

Robin's brow furrowed, the air around him seeming to grow heavier. "I don't see how that's any better than your original demand. Why—why would I give you all that?"

The soul shard didn't flinch. "Because that is the price of a true strategic alliance. A partnership where both sides gain and grow stronger together. You gain access to the might of the Nine Paths Empire... and I gain the marvels you've birthed with your strange mind and your boundless ambition."

"Right," Robin snorted a short laugh. "Then tell me this—who exactly is subordinate in this little 'partnership'? Because if I'm the one handing over all the goods, it sounds a lot less like an alliance and a lot more like a conquest."

Renara narrowed her gaze. "Burton... what exactly are you implying?"

"I'm implying that an arrangement with you might bleed me dry. Why would I kneel to a master I have to fund? If anyone should be the 'Overlord', it's the one bringing the gifts to the table." He tapped his chest, half in jest, half in challenge. "With all respect, of course."

He leaned forward slightly, voice quieter now—but dead serious. "Just moments ago, you claimed to be wealthier, more powerful, more influential than even my own Overlord. Let's say, for argument's sake, that's true. Let's imagine my Overlord handed me all of these technologies and tools you want..." Robin raised his chin slightly, eyes locked on hers, "...what exactly do you have to offer me in return?"

Then Robin slowly extended his arms wide, his voice calm but edged with challenge. "You saw it with your own eyes, didn't you? I have no shortage of anything. I've got a refined planet teeming with life, advanced arrays humming through the air, new spaceships, and war gear of the epic grade. Not to mention—an army vast enough to conquer whatever zone I put my eyes on. So tell me, my lady… why would I ever need anyone? Why would I ever hand anything over to you? Convince me. Give me a reason."

Renara's soul shard stiffened, her expression darkening like thunderclouds on the horizon. For the first time, she placed both hands firmly on the armrests of her seat, her fingers tensing, her composure slipping slightly. "Burton… you are disrespecting me again. And I'm warning you—this is not a wise game to play."

She leaned slightly forward, her gaze cold, piercing. "Do you think acquiring an Overlord Patron—someone willing to shield you, to fight on your behalf, to put their entire name and power behind yours—is an easy feat? A casual arrangement? Let me make something perfectly clear: if you continue walking this path without backing, and if a grudge forms between you and any empire from the young belt… or worse, between you and someone of my caliber—then the gates of the Mid Belt will forever be closed to you. You'll become a pariah, a target. The moment you try to set foot there, dozens of eyes will turn toward you, and many of them will not be kind. You will be hunted down without mercy. And of course, you'll be forced to bid farewell to your planets, your forces, your legacy—permanently."

Then she tilted her head, offering a thin, cutting smile. "And in that kind of desperation, you'll have no choice but to crawl to someone else. Hand over all your valuable schematics and secrets just to get a sliver of protection from some unknown warlord. So tell me, why not make the smart move now? Save yourself the blood and fire—seal the deal while you still have choices."

Robin nodded slowly, then chuckled, rubbing his chin. "How lovely. Such a graceful presentation. But tell me… is that a warning or a threat?"

Renara's smile sharpened like a blade. "Why not consider it both? Any intelligent man would."

She then stood up from her throne-like seat with effortless grace. "Do you think we're desperate for vassals, Robin Burton? That we grovel for dependents? In the Mid Belt, we receive over a dozen requests for patronage daily. Kingdoms and empires alike offer us their taxes, their armies, their loyalty—just for a taste of our name's power. We turn most of them away."

She looked at him with a tilt of her head, genuinely baffled. "Yet you—a young lord from a newborn empire—are acting as though I need to persuade you?"

She clenched one fist under the other.

Just three years ago, she'd rejected an empire with seven planets from the Mid Belt. This was no game. If Robin went off tomorrow and sparked a conflict with a power backed by a strong force, she would be forced to intervene. To clean up the mess. Maybe she'd need to issue a formal threat. Maybe she'd need to shed blood. Or maybe—just maybe—she'd get pulled into a war she never asked for.

Robin raised his hand, calm as ever, and gave a little dismissive wave. "For me, I'd rather just pay you a fixed fee every year— Energy pearls, ores, custom designs. You name it. As for that Everything you're asking for—those epic armor schematics, that black flame technique, the warship blueprints—they're priceless. You know they are. And frankly? I still don't see an equivalent return."

Renara narrowed her eyes, her voice clipped and stern. "I don't see this conversation going anywhere useful. What do you want, then?"

Robin's voice remained smooth. "Break it down. Give me a list. A price for each item—individually. Then I'll take a few days to consider and send a counteroffer."

"Ah…" Renara gave a humorless chuckle, her tone mocking. "So you want a balanced partnership, is that it? Equality?"

Robin shrugged. "I don't see anything funny about that. I'm interested in your offer, genuinely. I do need a few things from the Mid Belt—special resources, unique tools. And your reach? Your reputation? That'll help me find them. But let's not pretend you're not gaining a mountain from this deal too. Just those armor designs and the Uracelium alloy you want? With them, you might even reclaim those four planets you lost."

Renara's face darkened instantly. "You've crossed the line," she whispered, her voice low and dangerous.

WOOOSH—She stood up fully, releasing a wave of raw soul force that rippled through the chamber like a tempest. Curtains fluttered. The air vibrated.

"Do you think the Nine Path Empire—my empire—is waiting for some backwater warlord to hand them scraps so we can expand? Keep your toys, Burton. Your precious city, your fancy fire, your tech. We'll see who ends up needing whom!"

Robin stood too, a large fake smile stretching across his face as he raised both hands in mock surrender. "Ha—please, My lady, don't be angry! Isn't negotiation supposed to be about back-and-forth? Give and take? We're just—"

But before he could finish, his eyes widened in shock. A sudden alarm rang through his spiritual senses—sharp and violent, like a dagger plunged into his soul.

(Owner! Disaster! A woman just arrived on-planet. She swept her soul sense across everything like a tidal wave. Then—then she punched space and cracked it open. She tore through the fabric of space and leapt straight it. The direction of the breach… it's heading straight for Planet Jura!)