"...Wait, don't kill Jabba!!!" Sakaar's rough shout ca quickly and forcefully, fearing that the Lord would rip open the fabric of space and leap through it before he could finish his words.
His shout proved effective; everyone around heard it and froze montarily before resuming their battles.
"...?!" Even Robin's target halted midair, looking back with eyes filled with fear and disbelief before quickly continuing his flight.
As for Robin, he froze in place and slowly turned toward Sakaar, his eyes wide open. "You, of all people? Have you forgotten what happened to Morin and half of your army? Or do you think I am weak and incapable of doing this myself? ...Give a reason. If it's sothing trivial like, Don't do it because I want to kill him myself, then prepare for the consequences." By the end of his sentence, anger had etched itself onto his face.
Prepare for the consequences... Even Sakaar was stunned upon hearing those words!
It was the first ti Robin had threatened a high-ranking mber of his empire with punishnt. Usually, individuals like Caesar, Richard, Sakaar, and even the generals were given allowances for mistakes without facing repercussions. Robin didn't want those around him to feel as though he was lying in wait for their missteps, which would stifle their independent thinking and problem-solving abilities.
But today, he clearly ant his words. During the Shadow Raid, Sakaar had demanded Jabba's execution for his betrayal, particularly for handing over the teleportation arrays to the Great Serpent Empire. But Robin had refused, stating he needed indisputable evidence of Jabba's betrayal, and if found, he would deal with it himself. Today, he had his proof.
Jabba's manner of speaking was not that of soone feigning innocence or plotting sches. It was the deanor of a man who knew exactly what he was doing. And as long as Jabba was fully aware of his actions, there was no need for Robin to entertain his justifications or seek reconciliation. Jabba was a grown man, over a century old. Having chosen his path, he should know where it ends.
Robin had made his decision the mont Jabba ntioned his wife. His gaze shifted from seeing Jabba as a misguided student to a dead man. The pity and incomprehension in his eyes were replaced by cold detachnt. He had resolved to end Jabba's life then and there-the man he had once considered the closest to understanding him, even closer than his own children!
Thus, if Sakaar now stepped in to stop him for a petty reason like wanting to deal with Jaba himself, it would insult Robin's resolve and provide more than enough reason for punishnt.
Sakaar sighed in relief when he noticed Robin halt and turn toward him. At this point, there was no need to shout again. Yet he still feared Robin might lose patience and proceed. Quickly, he retrieved a voice ring from the blue leather pouch and infused it with his spiritual essence. ("We agreed, Jabba is yours. And I know the Lord always keeps his word. But could you delay his death for just a bit longer?")
"Why?" Robin furrowed his brows slightly and loosened his grip on the spear. Sakaar's words had cald him a little.
("Jabba's words... if I'm not mistaken, his dialogue with you contained several hints,") Sakaar said, his voice calm but carrying a weight of hidden aning. Even as explosions of energy tore through the battlefield and warriors clashed with elental fury around him, Sakaar appeared oddly detached, his focus unwavering at Robin alone.
Above them, the Soul Creature Hovenheim had fully materialized, its colossal form casting a shadow over the battlefield like an ancient monolith awakened from a slumber of eons. Its bark shimred with a strange, otherworldly light, veins of glowing energy coursing through its massive branches. It lacked the raw strength to overwhelm the emperors it faced, but its purpose was clear: to disrupt and delay. Each swing of its gargantuan limbs sent shockwaves rippling through the air, forcing its opponents to scatter and focus their attacks on the mighty creature rather than the battle at large.
Below, the scene was no less intense. A myriad of Sakaar's Underworld Daisies dotted the battlefield like an eerie, spectral garden. Their sinister glow pulsed as they regenerated relentlessly, rendering conventional destruction futile. Frustrated, his opponents had resorted to invoking the secondary erosion law, a devastating technique that reduced the daisies to fine, shimring dust. Each eradicated flower seed to spark another in its place, turning the battle into a desperate contest-would the daisies be depleted first, or would the blood of their assailants give out under the relentless toll?
("...What hints are you referring to?") Robin's reply ca through the sound ring, his voice laced with skepticism. He would be lying if he claid Jabba's words had left him unaffected. These hints had not escaped his notice, yet he had chosen to dismiss them.
This was the final confrontation-there was no room for ambiguity. What value could hints hold now? Even if Jabba stood brazenly on this battlefield and hurled insults at Pythor's lineage, who would dare touch him under Robin's watchful gaze?
("I don't want to seem like a fool if my conclusions are incorrect, so I'd prefer to keep them to myself until proven otherwise,") Sakaar responded tersely. His words were clipped but firm as if weighed down by an unseen burden. ("All I ask is that you grant him one last chance.") Robin remained silent for a mont, his gaze following the faint silhouette of Jabba as it shrank in the distance. The young man with his long, dark braids streaked through the skies with remarkable speed, a blur against the smoky horizon. A few more seconds and even Robin's sharp eyes would lose him.
"Hoo~" Robin exhaled slowly, his breath a mix of exasperation and resignation. He eased back into his throne, its ornate design glowing faintly with stored power. Resting the tip of his black spear against his shoulder, he signaled his reluctant agreent. ("I hope you know what you're doing.")
His voice, though neutral, carried a chilling undertone. The responsibility for Jabba's survival now rested solely with Sakaar, and Robin made no effort to mask the consequences should this decision backfire. Yet deep inside, a quiet sense of relief unfurled within him, like a tightly wound spring finally released.
("I hope he knows what he's doing,") Sakaar replied in a soft murmur, before slipping the sound ring back into his leather pouch and returning his attention to the battle at hand.
A sardonic chuckle broke the tension as Pythor's voice cut through the stillness like a blade. "Hmm, I see you've returned to your seat. Does this an you've reconsidered killing your disobedient disciple?" His tone dripped with mockery. "Tell , how does a planetary emperor stoop so low as to heed the barks of a subordinate? That horned fiend bellowed at you, and you simply sat down? Pathetic. Truth Chosens, for all their vaunted wisdom, truly make for laughable rulers."
Robin's lips curled into a faint, humorless smile as he rubbed his temples, the weight of Pythor's provocations an unwelco distraction. Finally, his golden eyes settled on Pythor, their intensity sharp enough to cut stone.
"Mind your own affairs," Robin said, his tone laced with cold disdain. "You can drape yourself in your gaudy jewels and parade around with hair as garish as your robes but don't think for a mont I'm unaware of how you grovel before your Overlord. Nose to the dirt, chin scraping the ground... even prisoners of war in my empire are treated with more dignity."
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