Lord of the Truth-Chapter 1230: Rearrange

hustle hustle

Just as one would expect from the elite generals and battle-hardened soldiers of the Golden Army, they had done what no ordinary force could—they brought everyone back. Whether it was through coercion or voluntary return, whether wounded or unharmed, still shaken or beginning to feel relief at the crisis's end, each and every person was seated once again. It was as though the chaos had never happened.

No screams. No arguments. Just a silent return to order, eerily smooth. As if the very foundation of discipline had reasserted itself with steel-like grip.

And truly, if there was any silver lining in the disaster that unfolded today, it would be this: the overwhelming pressure unleashed by the cataclysmic attack from the Major Law of Destruction had not been uniform. No—it had been relative.

The stronger one was, the more attuned they were to the fabric of heavenly laws, the greater the toll exacted upon them.

As a result, the ones who suffered the most under that crushing, law-bending force were the Empire's mightiest—its champions, leaders, and elite cultivators.

Had that force swept across the land equally, without regard for power or perception, at least half of Jura's population would have perished today.

No defenses, no time for retreat—just vaporized, lives snuffed like candles in a hurricane.

"Unbelievable…"

Even Servon and the remnants of the fleeing Third Army had been forced back—dragged into accountability after Aro reached out to them with fury laced in every word.

Their disbelief knew no bounds as they returned to witness an impossible sight: Robin, alive and steady upon the grand platform.

"What kind of disgraceful soldiers are you supposed to be?!"

Aro's voice cracked like thunder across the courtyard as he jabbed a furious finger at the trembling group of returnees—nearly a dozen of them.

"You abandoned your Emperor while he still breathed! You ran like frightened dogs to save your own hides! What use are you to this Empire, then? What is your worth?!"

Shoko, known as Falcon Wing, lifted her hands instinctively, her expression flustered and panicked.

"Supreme General Aro, please, you saw it with your own eyes! That force—it wasn't something anyone could withst—"

"Silence!" he barked, his glare enough to silence a battlefield.

"Don't you dare compare what you did to 'anyone'! Not a single human general fled. Not one! Even the demons—those very beings you speak of with disdain—they held the line.

Had I not stood with them to the bitter end and seen everything with my own eyes, the Third Army would have collapsed like a house of sand.

We would be lined up in chains right now, sentenced to death—not gathered here for a coronation!"

His fury exploded as he grabbed Servon and Harros by their throats, hoisting them off the ground effortlessly. The memory of Caesar mocking him—patting his shoulder, smirking as if telling him to "go collect your cowards"—still burned into his mind like a brand.

There was no doubt in his soul.

If Aro had used a spatial array to escape instead of standing his ground, Caesar would have torn the deserters apart one by one, enjoying every moment of their pain.

"Damn all of you... Go do something useful. Anything! And don't care what your peers say—keep your mouths shut and your eyes low!"

With a snarl, Aro shoved them backward, his disgust evident in every motion.

"We'll settle this... after the day is done!"

"..." Servon. Harros. The three Sorceresses. Sandra, Bosana, and Kandal.

They all exchanged glances—silent, heavy with shame—and then scattered, pretending to be useful, doing what they could to escape the eyes of judgment now burning upon them.

... To- astonishment of all, the Imperial Capital still stood.

Some of its majestic buildings were cracked, their once-pristine surfaces now marred with jagged lines.

Many decorative elements had been shattered or worn away, leaving raw stone and frayed banners fluttering listlessly.

Almost every single array in the city had been disrupted or damaged, requiring significant repair. But despite everything—it stood.

Even the massive support vessel, Destruction Note-1,

Its hull was fractured in countless places, and deep fissures ran along its frame like scars left by a titan's claws. Yet somehow, miraculously—it was still functional. Operational, if needed.

"Hssss..."

Durger had returned too, limping slowly under the intense and furious gaze of Richard, who stared at him as though he were prey—his eyes wide with silent rage, his jaw clenched as though about to bite through steel.

He looked like he wanted to run a rod through Durger's mouth and out the other end, roast him alive right then there.

Yet even Richard said nothing.

Durger merely muttered through gritted teeth, "Hsss… This is beyond humiliating…"

"Heeeeeey…"

Even Devos had returned, his head lowered so far that his chin nearly touched his chest.

For the first time in his life, the towering brute wished his body was smaller—just small enough to shrink away from the accusing eyes surrounding him.

He didn't say a word, "...hmm?"

When the two of them returned to their original spots, they found their third still crouched in exactly the same position—Crixus, unmoved and unchanged, letting out his signature eerie laughter, short and sharp like a blade scratching metal:

"Hegh, hegh, hegh…" Cleary mocking the two.

...Holak crossed his arms and surveyed the restored scene before them. Everything seemed to be returning to normal with alarming efficiency.

"…There's something that your people still lack, Your Excellency," he said, his voice low and resonant. "True loyalty. The kind that stands even when everything falls."

He paused, his eyes scanning the surroundings as the dust of chaos settled. "And I still don't trust the Third Army. Not even a little."

All around them, the empire was slowly reassembling its fractured image. The pieces of a shattered illusion were finding their way back into order.

The Shadow Swords and the Light Swords—disciplined, relentless, loyal to the bone—moved with the urgency of bees protecting their hive.

"As for the people," Robin responded with a quiet, contemplative tone, "Caesar is working on it. Tirelessly. And to be honest… I think his rough methods are finally starting to bear fruit."

His lips curved into a subtle, almost nostalgic smile.

Holak didn't look away. "And the Third Army?"

Robin gave a light nod, as if expecting the question. "I don't blame them. Truly. All of them—without a single exception—were former prisoners of war.

None of them has fought beneath my banner before.

Even if Aro himself was broken and fled… I would've still preserved the Third Army as it is.

Their structure, their ranks, even their weaknesses—I would've kept it all.

The only difference is, I would've though of much heavier chains for them."

Holak turned his head slowly, gazing at Robin for a few seconds without uttering a single word.

Robin noticed the change in his expression. "…What? Why that look?"

But as the silence stretched, Robin's mind quickly pieced it together. His expression softened with realization.

"Ah… I see. You are worried I'd force you into an oath too, aren't you?"

Holak didn't answer directly, but his silence was enough.

Robin placed a reassuring hand on the man's massive shoulder. "I won't force you into anything, Holak. Not you.

Men like you… if they feel coerced, even a little, they resist.

And that's exactly why I've never tried to bind you.

I suppose… I'll just have to gamble on your nature instead."

Holak finally spoke, his tone slow but firm. "You won't regret it."

He glanced at Robin from the side, not directly. "It's true. I've never sworn loyalty to anyone. Never pledged my strength to a cause. I don't have the training or the discipline for it.

But I will do everything within my power to keep you on your thrown. This is my promise—a promise in place of an oath."

Robin laughed, his voice warm and full of approval. "A promise is more than enough."

He tapped Holak's boulder-like arm. "So tell me… what changed your mind?"

Holak's gaze drifted toward the platform's edge, where the crowd was slowly gathering once more.

"I came here today because of something Aro said. He told me that someone like me—a being of my strength and nature—was never meant to be just an ordinary citizen.

And I realized… he was right."

Robin nodded in understanding, not interrupting.

"But," Holak continued, "he also isn't worthy.

He's not the kind of man I would ever serve.

So I decided I'd offer my strength to you instead.

After what I saw… after what you did against the Shadow in Nihari…

There's no doubt. You're the strongest.

You're the only one I've seen worthy to give me orders.

That's why I originally wanted to serve as a mercenary—called upon only for major wars.

You could assign me to any of the three armies, as long as I retained full independence."

Robin gave a thoughtful nod. He understood well.

Holak wasn't the kind of person who'd bow to any authority—not Aro, not Caesar, not even Sakaar.

He would never allow anyone to command him through title alone.

Because Holak wasn't just a powerful fighter at level 49.

He was something… unnatural. A living contradiction to how the world was supposed to work.

His Body Strengthening Tattoo, by design, could only handle up to level 46.

And yet… somehow, he'd broken through that ceiling.

His body had become something beyond explanation.

His strength wasn't just massive. It had transcended logic.

If it came to a death match, no one could predict the victor between Holak and the Pillars of the Empire; Caesar, Richard, Sakkar and Amon.

But in terms of pure, destructive force unleashed in a single moment…

He stood alone.

That one punch he threw—just one punch—with every ounce of power he had:

He obliterated the upper body of Pythor, even while Pythor was in his Gift Mode.

He launched Sakaar, Richard, and over 300 marshals' elites and Imperial guards into the sky like rag dolls.

He shattered the soul creature Hoffenheim.

And he flattened an entire mountain near Hope City.

So yes—it was only natural that he didn't take anyone seriously.

Even Sakaar and Caesar treated him more like a peer than a subordinate.

A peer… albeit a stubborn, provocative one.

And then Holak spoke again, this time more slowly, with an edge of something deeper in his voice.

"But then… something else happened today. Something unexpected.

And in that moment… I changed my mind.

I decided I wouldn't just work with you.

I'd work for you.

And I'd leave it to you to decide how I should be used."

Robin raised a curious eyebrow, intrigued. "Oh? What was it, then?

Was it when I redirected the first attack?

Maybe when I reformed my shattered body?

Or… when the Golden Soul Shard appeared?"

Holak shook his head firmly. His voice, when it came, was dead serious.

A strange fire burned in his eyes as he answered:

"…No. It was when you called those two women 'brainless and shameless whores.'

You warmed my damn heart."