"…?!" Althera's expression contorted, disbelief and confusion warring across her face.

Protecting my backyard…? she thought, her mind reeling. Does he mean… the entire universe?!

And when he says, 'Do not interfere when I rule over all'… is he speaking of the cosmic creatures?

What kind of arrogance could reach such a level? What sort of mind could speak so casually about dominion over existence itself? It wasn't simply pride—This was utter detachment from reality.

For a fleeting moment, Althera's instinct urged her to speak—to bring him down from his delusion, to make him realize how insane his words sounded.

But she didn't. She simply… stopped.

Something in the air, in the quiet tension between the two, pressed against her very soul and silenced her. Even she, a Monarch whose presence could make worlds tremble, felt an inexplicable certainty that her voice did not belong in this space.

This was no ordinary discussion.

On one side stood the Cosmic Elder, an existence who protected the cosmos from evil creatures over countless eons.

On the other stood Robin, a man who had become the bearer of three Master Laws.

Suddenly, the weight of her own title felt meaningless. The realization struck her like cold lightning—her status as a Monarch was insignificant here.

"…" The Elder continued to gaze at Robin's face, his sharp cosmic eyes narrowing as if peering into the depths of the young man's fate. For a moment, he forgot the thrill of witnessing the second stage of the Law of Creation—a sight so rare that most beings would devote eternity just to glimpse it once.

"Is that your mission?" he finally asked, his tone heavy, almost mournful. "To rule over all that exists?"

"…No," Robin replied softly, his lips curving into a faint, knowing smile. "But looking back at my life… I can't help but feel that's the direction my path is heading toward. It's strange. All I ever wanted was solitude—a quiet cave where I could refine a minor Law and study the balance of creation in peace."

He chuckled lightly, though there was something almost tragic in his laugh. "And yet, here I am… holding the Master Law of Creation in my hand, bargaining with the very pillar that upholds the cosmos. How it all came to this, I don't know. But I can't shake the feeling that the future still holds far greater storms—and perhaps, greater wonders."

The old man's expression softened, yet a flicker of sternness remained.

"As for the so-called protecting you backyard," he said slowly, "that is a duty I chose of my own will. We may ignore that request. But when it comes to not interfering with your reign—understand this: I have never cared how the beings of the universe govern themselves. I've never meddled with the formation of empires or the crafting of internal laws."

His voice hardened, a note of ancient conviction slipping through. "But I did destroy those who reigned through cruelty—empires that enslaved the innocent, rulers who spread corruption and despair. I cannot see evil… and walk away from it."

Robin's smirk deepened, and the golden lines upon his arms shimmered faintly.

"You can visit my dominion anytime you wish," he said with casual confidence. "You'll see nothing but the opposite of what you call evil. Every world under my sovereignty blossoms—civilizations rise, knowledge thrives, and life itself evolves. Isn't that, in the end, the true purpose of a Truth Chosen?"

He raised an eyebrow twice, teasingly. "So then, old one—shall we call this an agreement?"

Gulp

"…" The Elder's gaze lingered, moving from Robin's determined eyes to the golden ring glowing in his palm. For several long heartbeats, the silence between them was heavier than gravity itself. Finally, he gave a solemn nod. "We have an agreement."

"Excellent," Robin said, a sharp gleam of satisfaction lighting his eyes. He closed his hand, and the ring vanished into a glimmer of dust, though the intricate sigils etched across his skin remained aglow.

"I'll begin preparing the rituals for the next phase," he continued. "It won't take long. You may rest or meditate while I finish."

"Hm? Rituals? For what exactly?" The Elder's tone carried both curiosity and unease, his ancient instincts prickling at something he couldn't name.

Robin sighed lightly, spreading his hands. "Sadly, I possess the knowledge—but not the strength. To assist you properly would take me decades alone. But…" He turned his head slightly, his eyes finding Althera. "Fortunately, I have a little help here."

"…?" Althera blinked, caught off guard by his words, then nodded firmly. "I'll gladly help in any way I can. Just tell me what to do."

"I'll call for you soon to handle your part," Robin said with a faint nod. Then he walked forward, each step deliberate, and clapped his hands once. A thin, sharp pen materialized in his grip, shimmering like condensed sunlight.

"Hoof~," he exhaled, his focus tightening, and began to write upon the air itself.

Huuuum—

Each stroke he traced left behind a glowing golden mark, floating weightlessly in the space before him. In mere seconds, lines and symbols began connecting, weaving themselves into an intricate, radiant pattern that seemed to hum with life.

Robin's concentration deepened, the air trembling faintly around him as his creation grew.

The Elder did not move. Despite Robin's offer of rest, he remained seated, his emerald eyes unblinking. His divine senses expanded, probing every flicker of energy, analyzing each symbol with the meticulous patience of a being who had witnessed the birth of galaxies.

And yet… even with all his experience, all his wisdom—he could not grasp what he was seeing.

"Heh~" The old man finally exhaled in defeat, shaking his head slowly as the faint shimmer of exhaustion crossed his wrinkled face. He gave up trying to decipher the golden runes dancing in the air and instead fixed his gaze on Robin himself.

The young man was standing at the center of a silent storm of energy, holding a razor-tipped inscription pen that looked delicate yet sturdy, forged with an aura of craftsmanship beyond the reach of mortals.

The old man's sharp eyes immediately recognized its nature—a low-tier epic-grade tool, masterfully built but far below what should be required for engraving a Master Law Pattern. Even the faint ripples of destruction licking across the pen's shaft told the truth: the tool was slowly breaking apart under the overwhelming strain of the power it was channeling.

He could already see the future in that moment—the pen would shatter soon, maybe after one or two more lines at best. Yet Robin continued to draw as if the fragility of his equipment didn't matter at all, his expression calm, his movements deliberate, and his hand steady beyond comprehension.

But the pen wasn't the only thing that fascinated the Elder. What truly made his heart skip was Robin's energy flow. He could feel it—so clear it was almost visible to the naked eye—the rhythm of essence leaving his core nexus and flowing in precise, spiral-like patterns through his veins, converging at his fingertips. Every stroke of that pen drained him a little more, stripping away fragments of his foundations with terrifying grace.

This wasn't just control. This was mastery born from sacrifice. Robin wasn't simply channeling power; he was using himself as the conduit and the ink.

Each time the pen touched the air, the glowing line it left shimmered like molten sunlight, and the faint hum of creation echoed through the chamber. Every mark was alive, singing with the rhythm of the Master Law of Creation.

The Elder's ancient heart trembled. Who could possibly do this? Who would dare to burn away the very roots just to shape a line? To injure themselves deliberately from within—and yet at the same draw with such beauty, such precision, such divine strength?

This is like someone stabs himself with his own hands, pulls pieces of his liver, and use to draw a magnificent painting like his stomach isn't bleeding!

The Cosmic Elder swallowed hard, unable to think of a single being in existence who could manage such a feat. Perhaps… Robin alone could.

"…How did you meet him, Elder?" Althera finally spoke, breaking the spell. Her voice carried both awe and disbelief as she stepped closer, her eyes reflecting the same golden light that illuminated the Elder's face. She, too, could see the impossible artistry before her—each motion deliberate, each rune a verse of cosmic poetry.

"…Through my good deeds," the Cosmic Elder said softly after a long pause, his voice carrying the weight of eons. "Through the karmic threads I wove across tens of millions of years."

His gaze turned distant, his mind drifting back to that fateful day in the market of Zaron Planet.

Was that day… the universe's way of rewarding him?

When he met Robin for the first time, he thought it was just another chance encounter. He tried to recruit him as a disciple—failed disastrously—and paid the price with his leg, his arm, and tens of thousands of years of life force. He had cursed fate for that loss. But now… looking at Robin, he wondered if it had all been part of something greater.

If he had succeeded back then and gave his legacy to Robin, he would've surely died. The Cosmic Scales had intervened, stopping him. Maybe they didn't do it out of cruelty. Maybe they did it because it wanted him to live.

"…Heh… I wasn't forsaken... I wasn't forsaken." The Elder's lips trembled into a smile as his eyes glistened. Tears began to pool and fall silently, tracing the lines of age carved into his cheeks. But they weren't tears of despair—they were tears of understanding, of joy and gratitude.

He looked up toward the endless sky above the chamber, and for the first time in countless millennia, his gaze wasn't bitter. It was serene. A quiet peace had finally found him.

"…?" Althera noticed. She turned to him, ready to speak, but then stopped when she saw the look on his face. The cosmic light reflected in his tears, and a soft smile crept across her own lips.

This… this was the first time she had ever seen the great Cosmic Elder show something so purely human.

"Heeh~" After what felt like an eternity, the Elder exhaled a long, shaky breath and lowered his head again. His neck ached, his joints protested, but his heart felt strangely light.

He turned his glowing green eyes back toward Robin, narrowing them as he tried once more to analyze what he was witnessing.

He already gave up trying to see what the Creation patering means, but he was really curios about the golden pattering on Robin's body!

Complex spirals and sigils that formed across his arms, shoulders, and neck, then crept toward his cheekbones. The golden runes pulsed in rhythm with his heartbeat, alive, conscious, almost sentient. And then he finally met eyes with Robin's golden eyes that— "Ahhh!!"

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