Lord of the Truth - Chapter 1235

Chapter 1235: Stellar survey
“…I can search for it on your behalf.”

Rinara’s voice was calm, carefully measured, but it did little to soothe Robin’s rapidly boiling irritation.

“What did you just say?” Robin snapped, his eyes widening in disbelief, as though she had just insulted his very intelligence. “You’ll search for it? That’s it? No confirmation? No commitment? Not even a slight promise to bring it back?”

He slammed his palm hard against the wooden armrest of the couch, a loud crack echoing through the room. “Then what exactly are we even doing here?! This entire conversation is just hot air. Please—just leave. Go wait for Zara’s list like the rest of the world. At least that would be more productive than this!”

“Lord Burton, please—try to be a little more patient and rational,” Rinara said, her tone slightly sharper now. Her brows knitted together in restrained frustration as she raised a hand, motioning for him to sit and collect himself. “Let’s take a moment and consider this properly. What exactly do you know about Planetary Displacement Tool? Or even planetary equipment in general?”

“…” Robin remained silent for several long seconds, breathing deeply as he rubbed his temple. Then, with an accusatory wave, he pointed at her dismissively. “I know they’re not some mythical treasure. They can’t be that rare—not rare enough that even someone with your reach and influence can’t get one.”

“That would be true—if you were asking for a general-use planetary-grade artifact,” Rinara answered, her tone softening slightly into that of a seasoned scholar educating a young student. “In that case, yes, I could have found something soon enough through our empire’s auction networks or by putting feelers out among soul society.”

She then folded her arms gracefully. “But that’s not what you’re doing, is it? You’re asking for something incredibly specific, Lord Robin. Something not designed for war, not for defense, not even for exploration—but for a dedicated, highly specialized, non-combative purpose.”

Her golden eyes glinted with seriousness as she lowered her voice. “That makes it part of the rarest class of planetary artifacts.”

She let that sink in before continuing with a slight shake of her head. “And even within the narrow field, your request stands alone.

You don’t want any Planet Displacement Tool. You want one precise enough, powerful enough, stable enough… to help you construct an entire artificial galaxy.”

Robin frowned. “And why is that such a big deal? Is there some kind of displacement tool specifically made for galaxies now? Or are you just exaggerating the difficulty to stall me?”

“No, there’s no separate category for planetary tools,” Rinara clarified immediately. “But what you’re attempting—forming a new galaxy—requires precise relocation, not just random teleportation. That fundamentally changes what kind of artifact can fulfill your needs.”

She drew in a breath, then began to explain with the careful tone of someone who knew the weight of her words:

“Planetary displacement tool is classified into multiple grades—each with its own capabilities, limits, and cooldown periods. For example, a Grade One Displacement Tool can move one planet to a random destination every fifty years. It’s useful for emergencies, but completely useless for your purpose.”

She lifted one finger. “Grade Two can do better. It can randomly relocate a planet every five years or, if precision is needed, move a planet to a specific location—but only once every thirty years.”

She paused, staring directly into Robin’s eyes. “Since your plan requires building an ordered, functioning galaxy, random teleportation is out of the question. You need deliberate placement. Which means… you need at least a Grade Two tool. And trust me—even I don’t own one of those.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Robin’s voice was lower now, more dangerous. “Are you seriously saying it’s impossible to find one?”

He clenched his fists. The entire purpose of his agreement with the All-Seeing god was to construct a Centurial Galaxy and complete ascension within a thousand years. That would require relocating no less than a hundred planets.

Even a Grade Two tool could only move one every thirty years. That added up to three thousand years—three thousand—to finish the relocations.

“That’s absurd,” he growled, slamming the armrest again, harder this time. “That’s completely unacceptable. No—forget that. I must get my hands on a displacement artifact, and it needs to be Grade Three or above. Nothing less will suffice!”

“Grade Three…?!” Rinara’s voice caught in her throat. She looked away for a second, biting her lip in thought. The price, the rarity… even for her, this was borderline impossible.

She slowly exhaled and forced composure back into her tone. “As I said earlier—I will search for what you need. But you must understand: this will not be easy, and it will not be quick.

If I succeed, however, I will expect a reward fitting of a Grade Three planetary artifact. Something equal in value to what I deliver.”

“…” Robin closed his eyes again, this time holding the bridge of his nose longer. This wasn’t encouraging. Who knew how long she might take to find such an artifact? He needed to start planning alternative routes now. If he was serious about building that galaxy—he would need to move fast and search on his own, too.

“…Lord Robin,” Rinara spoke again, this time much more quietly, almost nervously. If she had been present in her true body, she might have broken into a sweat by now.

She had begun this conversation filled with boldness and confidence, believing that whatever Robin asked, she could meet with ease.

But his requests had turned out to be on an entirely different level—absurdly difficult, even for her.

“…” Robin turned to her slowly, an amused and dismissive smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “Lady Rinara, I have one final request. If you fail to meet this one as well, then please—go. Sit back and wait for Zara’s list. It’ll find its way to you in due time.”

He leaned forward slightly, clasping his hands. “I want stellar survey ships. The kind used to scout uncharted planetary systems. The more you can get me, the better.”

“You want… stellar survey vessels?!” Rinara’s eyes widened in genuine disbelief, her voice echoing slightly in the room.

“Alright, it seems we’ve concluded our discussion here,” Robin declared, clapping both hands on his knees with finality. He began to lean forward, preparing to rise from his seat.

“Wait!” Rinara suddenly reached out with urgency, her slender hand landing firmly on his thigh, gently but insistently pushing him back into his seat. “I never said that I couldn’t fulfill your request!”

Robin raised an eyebrow, leaning back slowly into the soft embrace of the couch. His voice was dry. “Your reaction certainly suggested otherwise.”

“Of course I can,” Rinara responded without hesitation this time, her voice sharp and confident, as if trying to erase her moment of doubt.

A slow, satisfied grin spread across Robin’s face. That was precisely what he had been fishing for from the beginning.

Right now, the highest priority was initiating rapid territorial expansion—and that could only be done efficiently through the use of stellar exploration ships. Jabba’s matter and the planetary displacement artifact could be deferred; they weren’t immediately crucial. But the ships? Those were the key. Without them, nothing else could proceed.

He had been deliberately strategic in how he presented his requests. Starting with the more extreme and difficult demands would make Rinara more inclined to accept the “lesser” one that truly mattered. If he had opened with the exploration ships, she might have rejected the idea outright or tried to manipulate the price. By building pressure through the impossible, he created the illusion that the ships were a far more reasonable request.

And it seemed his gamble had paid off—until Rinara’s next word shattered that fleeting moment of triumph: “…However.”

“However? What now?!” Robin’s tone rose in agitation, his patience clearly wearing thin.

Rinara bit her lower lip, her eyes briefly averting his. “Stellar survey ships are not available through any conventional channels. They are manufactured and sold exclusively by the tyrant Interas. And the reason for that monopoly is because the ships are embedded with grade-seven spatial constructs—patterns of the seventh tier, drawn from the Space Path itself. A single new unit can cost as much as thirty million energy crystals.”

“…Thirty million?” Robin’s voice lowered, his expression darkening as the number echoed in his mind. “Thirty million energy pearl per ship?!”

His entire face shifted, from mere surprise to outright disbelief. That figure was insane. Even with all of his accumulated resources, it was a staggering price tag—enough to shake anyone.

Before the war, Emily had conducted a comprehensive audit across the territories. The results were encouraging at the time. According to her data, they had managed to seize and extract a total of roughly 3.4 billion energy pearls from Planet Nihari. That wealth had been gathered through numerous regional conflicts, conquests, and large-scale raids carried out by the elite Shadow Swords. They had drained the wealth of every major city and province before the invasion of the Great Serpent Empire, sparing nothing—until only the northern region remained.

And even that, eventually, fell.

Of course, there was no illusion that they had claimed every one available on the planet. Emily’s predictive model—based on known mine outputs and unexplored surface reserves—suggested that up to one billion more crystals could still be scattered across Nihari, waiting to be discovered or extracted. That would bring the total potential resources of the planet to about 4.5 billion energy crystals, assuming optimal recovery.

Naturally, that didn’t account for any hidden caches or secret reserves, nor the possibility that Nihari’s ecosystem had generated more energy since Robin completed its refining. Those unknowns would require time and effort to uncover.

From the 3.4 billion crystals already acquired, approximately 1.4 billion had been funneled into the Jura Academies—distributed among schools, training centers, and cultivation institutes to accelerate the development of promising new disciples.

Another full billion had been allocated directly to the military. The army needed it desperately: for healing and restoring combat strength, for maintaining large-scale formations, activating teleportation gates, stabilizing defensive barriers, and dozens of other vital applications.

That left Robin with just over one billion crystals still held in the treasury.

So if Rinara was serious—and he believed she was—that a single exploration ship cost thirty million, then a request for just ten ships would total three hundred million energy crystals.

That was thirty percent of his entire remaining reserves.

And knowing Emily… she might very well leap off the nearest cliff if she heard that number spoken aloud.