Lord of the Truth Chapter 1605: Favor

"...Why have you summoned , Your Majesty?" Morgana asked with a faint smile tugging at her lips. "As you know, my students are fighting in the arena right now..."

"I am well aware," Althera nodded with a weary sigh. "The truth is, Barok angered so greatly that I acted without much thought—I ended up sending a ssenger to bring you here. Only afterward did I realize that today is none other than the Students’ War... and Barok chose this very day to chase after his own petty interests, abandoning his disciples to fend for themselves. Typical of him, really."

"Does such a man truly deserve to upset you, Your Majesty?" Morgana’s smile deepened, calm yet edged with disdain. "The gulf between a Royal Soul Master and a Monarch is not one that can be bridged with ease. Even if he managed to climb to the third star as he desires, he would still be unworthy of polishing your boots, let alone standing in your presence."

"...." Relief softened Althera’s features. She exhaled a long breath, then rose from her chair, pacing slowly around her desk as if gathering her thoughts. "You truly are a charming girl, Morgana. Being in your company eases the strain on one’s heart. It’s no wonder students from across the entire sector admire you and travel long distances just to study under you."

Turning back, she deliberately sat in one of the guest seats directly opposite Morgana, leaving no barriers between them. With a playful glint, she leaned forward and winked. "By the way, I can clearly see that you remain untouched. Do you perhaps have a secret fiancé no one knows about? It’s hard for to believe you haven’t ensnared at least one poor soul in your web by now."

Morgana’s cheeks flushed a deeper shade of red, her composure wavering for the first ti. "Your Majesty flatters far too much. The truth is, I simply have not yet found the partner who feels... right. That is all." Then her crimson lips curved into a teasing smile. "But tell —could I not ask you the very sa question?"

"Perhaps one day~" Althera breathed out, leaning back in her chair with evident comfort. It was clear that Morgana’s presence gave her rare ease. "But not before I achieve what I seek. Not before I reach the heights of strength I have set my heart upon."

"You still wish to beco even stronger?" Morgana laughed lightly, the sound lodic yet filled with sincerity. "I fear that by the ti you arrive at your summit, not even a Behemoth would be worthy to stand at your side."

"Heh, maybe so." For once, Althera allowed herself a genuine, small laugh, an expression almost never seen on her stern face. Her gaze sharpened, fixing firmly on Morgana’s eyes. "But I won’t take too much of your ti. There is sothing I want from you."

"Of course. Speak, and it shall be done," Morgana inclined her head with practiced grace. "Do you want to hold another open lecture for the visiting guests? Those always seem to leave an impression."

Indeed, this had been one of Althera’s more brilliant ideas—an open lecture that Morgana delivered had once drawn an audience of more than twenty thousand, its recording spreading like wildfire throughout the sector.

"I want you to take on the official title of Professor, no longer rely a substitute teacher. Along with it, you will receive your own academic building, a ho base worthy of your stature. But more importantly—" Althera’s tone hardened into its usual directness, "I want you to replace Barok. I want you to beco the Academy’s official Royal Soul Master."

"This..." Morgana turned her gaze aside, clearly conflicted.

"Do not let it trouble you too much. The position itself does not carry unbearable weight. Even that charlatan managed to hold it for years without issue." Althera waved a hand dismissively. "You were right about one thing—when it cos to raw power, he cannot even dream of reaching my level. But in terms of position, Royal Soul Masters always hold a prestige that transcends re scales of strength."

She shook her head slightly, as though lanting the truth. "Even in the Dawnlight Stellar Academy—the greatest academy in the entire sector—we have only Barok to serve as our sole source of soul borrowings. We cannot simply invite another; the rest either pursue their own paths or owe their allegiance to factions that raised them to the level of Royal Soul Masters."

Then, with a more personal note, she gestured toward Morgana. "When your master, Lord Robin, first told that you had attained the rank of Royal Soul Master and that you intended to remain here for a while, I admit—I did not believe it at first. Not until I saw your power with my very own eyes."

"I don’t know about that..." Morgana’s gaze drifted again, soft and uncertain. "I am only here to pass the ti until my master returns."

Soul borrowings are, at their very core, intricate constructs—curses, incantations, and refined techniques—that a Soul Master painstakingly forges and then entrusts to another. They are weapons and shields alike, capable of protecting the bearer from rival Soul Masters, or striking back with sudden ferocity, or... even bending the flow of battle itself.

Every major power, be it an empire or an academy, inevitably craves the presence of a Royal Soul Master who can rain down such soul borrowings upon them. That single figure becos a pillar of the entire force.

He does not need to step into battle personally, nor reveal his identity to the world. His re existence—his ability to distribute those soul borrowings to the elites and decision-makers—is enough to multiply the might of his faction manyfold, turning them into a force that others dare not provoke.

At the very least, the warriors of such a power would no longer tremble when faced with enemy Soul Masters. Even if outright victory were impossible, those ard with citations could still carve out a path of retreat, preserving their lives and soul domains before the enemy had the chance to shatter them entirely.

But the truth is... crafting soul borrowings is no simple task. It demands that the Royal Soul Master devote endless hours to converting raw units with the elusive violet matter, then pour ti and precision into weaving the incantations, then painstakingly separate and seal them.

A cycle of patience, concentration, and sacrifice. Is it profitable? Without question—beyond imagination. But is it dull? More so than words can convey. It is the kind of monotonous work that can drain the spirit even as it enriches the coffers.

"...Listen carefully, Morgana. I have observed your thods. The way you strengthen soul creatures with spills is without equal, and your handling of incantations is nothing short of breathtaking. You may wear the badge of a single star, but your thods are not a shade weaker than Barok’s."

Althera released a long, frosty sigh. "I am well aware that your master possesses imnse stature. If shielded and nurtured, his future could indeed be dazzling. Yet for now, he remains within the limited sphere of a Martial Emperor. And every ti I lay eyes on him, I sense his level slipping, his fla dimming little by little. His future is far from guaranteed."

"...?" Morgana’s brows knitted together in confusion.

Even a Monarch such as Althera addressed that young man as ’Lord,’ speaking of his lofty stature with such weight? Could it truly be only because he was a Truth Chosen? ...No, there had to be layers of knowledge hidden from her still, truths she had yet to uncover.

"What do you say?" Althera’s voice broke through her thoughts. "Join the academy completely, without half-asures. It is obvious you enjoy teaching, and the students cling to you as though you were their guiding light. I will grant you the title of First Professor, a salary that Barok could only dream of attaining, and triple the fair market price for every single soul borrowings you deliver. Does that not tempt you?"

"....." Morgana lowered her eyes to the ground, hesitation weighing heavy in her gaze.

"There is no need to let doubt gnaw at you. Your future, your stability, your happiness—they would all be secure at my side." Althera leaned forward slightly, her tone laced with both promise and command. "And as for Lord Robin, nothing would prevent you from aiding him, offering him soul borrowings if he so requested. You would not lose him, only gain a broader foundation."

"...My hesitation has nothing to do with Lord Robin reaction," Morgana finally breathed, her voice quiet yet firm. "It is because I do not wish to anger you." She shook her head gently, strands of her hair brushing her cheeks. "Forgive , but my life is bound inseparably to Lord Robin’s. I will follow him, whether the path leads into death’s abyss... or into the brilliance of life."

"....." Althera fell into silence, her eyes drifting to so far-off horizon only she could see.

"I will remain a substitute teacher in the sa academic hall until my lord returns and points toward the next step." Morgana clarified softly. "But..." her lips curved into a small, unyielding smile, "I see no harm in delivering a number of soul borrowings to the academy each year."

"Truly?" Althera’s icy-blue eyes brightened, a glimr breaking through her usual composure. "...Wouldn’t your master be angered if he learned you were supplying us with such power?"

"I will simply offer him the profits when he returns." Morgana lifted her shoulders with a graceful shrug. "He never placed shackles upon . He told to do as I wished until the day he cos back."

"...Thank you. I will rember this favor." Althera nodded gravely, her voice edged with sincerity.

"Then rember the favor for my lord, not for ." Morgana replied with a faint smile, then rose smoothly and bowed low. "Now, please allow to return to my students."

Whoooosh