Lord of the Truth

Chapter 2082 Scions’ rows

“Approximately 90% of the heads and deputies of the Stellar Academies, most of those within the Law Domination Realm or Soul Masters who possess more than seven royal stars, are in fact children of Behemoths.”

Althera shrugged lightly. “The remaining 9% were academy students who were extremely specially sponsored after their talent was confirmed beyond any doubt. Finally, perhaps 1% are volunteers coming from other sources.”

Robin stared into Althera’s eyes for a long moment, studying her expression carefully. “Can you explain that to me?” Then he widened his eyes slightly, his tone slow and deliberate. “Slowly?”

“It isn’t very complicated.”

Althera showed a small, restrained smile, then turned to her side. “I’ll leave that pleasure to Aser.”

“It would be my honor.”

The deputy nodded seriously, his posture straight and respectful, then raised his hand and removed the veil, revealing a handsome bearded face, a face bearing a large scar beside his mouth, a scar that looked old and deep, as if it carried a long history of battles and survival.

“In truth, Lord Robin,” Aser began calmly, his voice steady, “people like us leave the galaxies of the Behemoths because we have nowhere else to go, and no real future if we remain.”

“I don’t understand…”

Robin shook his head slowly. “You have no place in your own homeland?! No space for you to exist there?”

“Behemoths live for a very long time, Lord Robin, and their progeny is vast, unimaginably vast.”

Aser spoke with a faint, knowing smile. “A mortal family can have five

successive generations in less than a hundred years, so what about a Behemoth who has lived for tens of millions of years?”

Then he shook his head slightly. “Terms like ‘son’ and ‘grandson’ lose all meaning, all structure, and all value in such a reality.”

“…That’s why most Behemoths follow a ranking system for their offspring. The elite progeny of a Behemoth’s lineage are classified as First Row Scions.”

He continued, his tone explanatory and calm. “It doesn’t matter whether you are a direct son of the Behemoth or a descendant from the thousandth generation. As long as your talent is equal, as long as your potential and ability are judged the same, both are placed in the same rank, with the same status and the same recognition.”

“For example,” he added, “in the family of the Dreamer Morpheus, a young girl barely two thousand years old joined the First Row Scions rank because of her exceptional talent and intelligence, and she became able to call Lord Morval her brother, even though the age gap between them is enormous, and the generational distance between them is beyond description.”

Robin raised an eyebrow slightly. He was beginning to understand what Aser was getting at, and the deeper implications behind his words.

That system made sense given their lifespans and their inhuman scales of time. It seemed to encourage hard work, competition, and talent above bloodline alone. But it was also extremely unjust to those not born with good fortune, to those who lacked the gifts required to rise.

In such a system, an ancestor could call his own grandson “elder brother” or even “lord” if the gap between them was large enough in rank and status. How great an insult was that? How crushing that hierarchy must feel.

“Does everyone follow this system?”

Robin raised an eyebrow again, his voice thoughtful. “There are Behemoths who don’t follow it, right? I believe the Destra family at least does not…”

“Of course the Destra family follows the same system.”

Aser showed a faint, restrained smile. “Those scions whom Helmor the Destroyer attacked in his internal war were the First Row Scions, a group from the absolute elite of his sons, grandsons, and long lineage. They were the core of his highest bloodline.”

He continued, “As for today, those First Row Scions are the known five, from Lord Hedrick all the way to Lady Helen. But there is another lineage of Helmor, many other Rows of direct sons and grandsons, who work in his private army as generals and officers, or govern planets on his behalf, ruling entire worlds in his name.”

” “

Robin raised his eyebrows in shock. This was undoubtedly new information, heavy information, the kind that reshapes one’s understanding of power structures in the universe.

Then he exhaled slowly.

“What are you trying to say after this introduction, Lord Aser?”

“There’s no need to address me as ‘Lord, Lord Robin.”

Aser smiled gently, his expression calm, composed, and free of any arrogance. “What I’m trying to say is this: you have dozens of Behemoths, and each Behemoth possesses thousands of scions, grandsons, and descendants spread across elite-ranked bloodlines. You usually only hear about the top ten or twenty, the famous ones, those who rule spiral arms of the galaxy and dominate vast star fields…”

He paused briefly, letting the weight of his words settle.

“But beyond them, there are thousands… tens of thousands… even hundreds of thousands more, all living in the shadows, all waiting for any opportunity, any crack in the system, any moment they can use to rise.”

“…Hundreds of thousands of Behemoth descendants who carry his blood in their veins, cultivate in his Path, and master his techniques, yet they are ranked and classified by their own siblings.”

Aser’s voice grew heavier.

“Most of the time, those rankings are deeply unfair. They’re built on old

relationships, favoritism, influence, personal alliances, hidden deals, or simple nepotism… and sometimes it’s even more primitive than that. Sometimes the

older siblings simply don’t want competition.”

He shook his head slowly.

“You know how these things work. Rarely does a Behemoth himself truly notice genuine talent within his own lineage. Power blinds them, and numbers drown

out individuality.”

“…True. Most of the scions in the lower ranks exhaust themselves trying to climb just one rank higher, just to gain a few more privileges, a little more protection, a slightly better status.”

He paused again, then continued in a quieter, more personal tone.

“And then there are those like me. Those who grow tired of the system, who become disillusioned, who lose hope in ever receiving a promotion, and who decide to carve out their own path somewhere else… far away from the shadow

of their lineage.”

“And that path is the Academies…”

Robin exhaled slowly, the conclusion sounding inevitable, almost heavy with

resignation.

“Exactly, Lord Robin.”

Aser nodded firmly, his voice steady with conviction.

“They are the only place where we can join and use a Behemoth’s Path without

bringing disaster down on our own heads. The only place where we can exist without provoking wars, vendettas, or annihilation.”

He continued, “We enter as students, then as teachers, and if fortune favors some of us, we rise to positions of dominance and authority, reaching ranks like deputy, overseer, or HeadMaster.”

Robin nodded several times in understanding, his expression thoughtful. “…Didn’t your father try to summon you back once you reached this level of

power?”

“He did.”

Aser nodded calmly. “They always do. Always.”

A faint bitterness passed through his eyes.

“They always notice the talent of their children after it’s too late, when that

talent no longer belongs to them.”

Then he shook his head slowly.

“But I will not abandon the academy that nurtured me, protected me, and shaped me… just to return to the place I left by my own will. I won’t crawl back

to a system I chose to escape.”

He looked directly at Robin.

“You can understand that, can’t you?”

“…I understand.” Robin sighed, the answer coming naturally, without hesitation.

Then he looked at Althera and gestured subtly toward Aser.

“How can you be sure he isn’t a spy?”

“Lord Robin.”

Althera frowned sharply, her voice firm and unyielding.

“Aser is the academy’s strike force. The spearhead. The executioner.”

She continued coldly, “Most of the Blue Plague that has been eliminated over

the last seventy thousand years died by his hand. I only dealt with the truly powerful ones myself. Everything else… was him.”

“Haha, it’s fine, Academy Mistress. It’s an important question.”

Aser laughed softly, unoffended.

“In truth, the Academy Mistress cannot truly be certain. We don’t take oaths,

blood contracts, or soul bindings. There’s no absolute guarantee.”

He continued with a calm smile,

“But you can say this: there is nothing for us to gain by infiltrating the

academies and carrying burdens like these responsibilities, when we could instead live freely in the galaxy if we truly wished.”

Then he closed his eyes gently, his voice lowering.

“As you know, working in the academies is a form of service to Life itself, not a

luxurious profession. It’s not a throne of pleasure, and not a position we can exploit to secure the interests of the Behemoths.”

He added quietly, “The academies avoid direct conflict with Behemoths anyway, as you know. At best, the academies act as mediators if a clash occurs.

They exist to stabilize, not to dominate.”

“Hmmm…”

Robin tilted his head slightly. He wanted to scratch it, but both his hands were

occupied.

“This deserves a long session of contemplation… and more than one serious

discussion.”

Then he looked at Althera again.

“Why did you wait three days?”

“…I was thinking about the next step.”

Althera replied with slight hesitation, her tone measured and cautious.

“And have you thought enough?”

Robin showed a wide, confident smile, calm on the surface, dangerous beneath

it.

“

Althera sighed deeply.

“Yes, oh Master of Thrones.”