Ba-dum
"...." Robin’s pen froze halfway through the line he was drawing. For a fleeting, impossible second, the entire world seed to halt — the hum of the air, the flow of energy, even the faint rustle of particles all ceased to exist.
Only his pupils moved, contracting sharply — like a startled cat seeing the impossible.
Master?
A hundred and forty years...
He had spent one hundred and forty long, desolate years in this barren, forsaken region.
One hundred and forty years of waiting, hoping, doubting... yearning to hear that single word again. Could it be... that the miracle he had given up on had finally happened?
Robin turned his head slowly to the side, as if afraid that even a sudden motion might shatter the illusion before him.
There stood a human youth — his hair shaved neatly on both sides, while a long, thick braid ran down the center of his scalp, cascading over his back like a dark serpent. His face was smooth, devoid of beard or mustache, yet the clean, angular lines of his jaw gave him a strikingly masculine, commanding presence — the kind that could silence a room without a single word.
Beneath his plain clothes, well-defined muscles rippled faintly with each movent — not the grotesquely swollen bulk of the titanic warriors of Nihari, covered in inked runes and battle scars, but the disciplined, balanced physique of a warrior forged through purpose and restraint.
That familiar young man — the sa figure Robin had looked at, studied, and mourned at least once a day for the past one hundred and forty years — was now, for the first ti in what felt like an eternity, looking back at him... and smiling faintly.
After nearly a full minute of frozen silence, Robin’s lips curved upward as well, the weight of countless years finally breaking into sothing that resembled peace, "...Was the nap pleasant?"
"I’ve got a bit of a headache..." Jabba muttered softly, raising his head to gaze at the far horizon, where the fractured skies of this world shimred in shades of amber and gold. He rubbed the back of his skull, blinking in slow disbelief. "...Were the colors of the world always this vivid?"
"It’s natural to feel strange," Robin explained in a calm, patient tone, his voice steady despite the storm of emotion within. "You have an entirely new consciousness now. Although it draws upon the mories and personality of your original soul — aning you’re still you — it will take so ti for those mories to stabilize and synchronize with the current reality."
"...A new consciousness?" Jabba stopped rubbing his head, his brows furrowing as if trying to comprehend the scale of what had been done to him. He took a deep breath, then exhaled slowly. "To that extent, huh?"
His mind wandered — back to his final conscious mont. That day, his master had awakened him from the Curse of Eternal Stillness. He rembered the collapse — the sudden, dreadful sensation of his body failing him while his master spoke words he could no longer hear.
He looked down to see his energy gathering system shattering, his life artery torn apart, his power scattering like dust in the wind. He had known death was certain, and the pounding migraine, the fading vision — he had accepted them as the natural toll of dying.
But now, standing here, breathing again... he realized the truth was far crueler. His entire consciousness had been erased that day — every spark, every thought, every trace of his being obliterated.
"To that extent — and a half," Robin chuckled lightly, tightening his grip on the pen before resuming his sketch with fluid precision. "You’ve exhausted these past years, Jabba. One hundred and forty years of trying to bring you back from absolute death... A simple ’thank you’ wouldn’t hurt right now."
"...No." Jabba’s expression darkened the instant he heard the number. His jaw tightened, eyes shadowed with guilt. "I already thanked you a hundred and forty years ago, when you freed from the Curse of Eternal Stillness. I have no face left to thank you again — not for sothing like this."
Crack. The pen snapped between Robin’s fingers, splintering under the sudden force.
"That’s a whole new level of ungratefulness!!"
Jabba’s lips twitched, almost amused.
"Would it please you more if I spent the rest of my life repaying the debt instead?"
"..." Another pen appeared instantly between Robin’s fingers, summoned with a faint pulse of golden light as he started drawing again. Without looking up, he continued sketching as if nothing had happened, "Just live."
Golden light began to shimr faintly around Robin’s hand — not just light, but pure radiance, the manifestation of laws older than stars. They danced across his skin like delicate threads of destiny being rewoven, each movent resonating with power and aning.
Jabba stood beside him silently, watching the distant horizon, the weight of a second life pressing upon him. His gaze seed to reach beyond the world itself — as if trying to rediscover where he belonged in this strange new existence.
The entire scene looked tiless — mythic, like the birth of legends.
And Arkalon, of course, didn’t miss a single heartbeat of it.
Pa—pa—pa!
The sharp, rhythmic sound of clapping echoed from the side, crisp enough to slice through the thick silence that filled the cave. Then ca Arkalon’s voice, brimming with amused disbelief, "Incredible, absolutely incredible... That was, without a doubt, the gayest thing I’ve ever witnessed — and yet, sohow, it gave goosebumps."
"...." Jabba finally turned his head toward Arkalon, then shifted his gaze to his master. His expression was calm, but a hint of irritation flickered in his tone. "What exactly is that thing supposed to be?"
"Don’t waste your energy thinking about him," Robin muttered, not even sparing a glance as his pen danced across the parchnt with smooth, uninterrupted strokes. "He’s a soul creature I happened to find walking half-naked by the roadside. I felt a bit of pity for him, so I took him in and gave him shelter. But judging by his attitude, he’ll be sleeping with the dogs tonight — with 5 unit max capacity."
Robin didn’t falter or pause for even an instant; his hand moved with chanical precision, elegant and sure. He had long grown used to Arkalon’s wild, impulsive behavior — that reckless streak that never knew restraint. No wonder, Robin thought silently, that this fool had once been killed in cold blood and had no friends left alive to mourn or avenge him.
"A soul creature?" Jabba’s brows knit tighter as he studied Arkalon, his gaze becoming analytical. "They can develop consciousness and personality to this extent? Fascinating... almost terrifying."
The last ti Jabba had seen a soul creature with his own eyes was the ancient tree-father, Hovenheim — a being that hovered between life and death, neither truly sentient nor completely gone, acting only as an obedient corpse. Later, during the great war following his escape, Jabba had witnessed hundreds of soul creatures pouring out of Robin’s dinsional gates — yet they were no different. They were hollow husks, puppets of command, their eyes empty, their gestures chanical, their voices nonexistent. They existed to obey, not to live.
But this one... this one was talking, complaining, and even — what in the world was he doing? Drawing?
"Hey, aren’t you supposed to be a Truth Chosen?" Arkalon snapped, clearly irritated by Jabba’s piercing gaze — one that felt less like curiosity and more like a starving beast appraising a fresh al. "Why don’t you do sothing useful for once other than lying like a bitch? Help out here — or better yet, help your master."
"The master is working on a master law, I don’t even know what that is." Jabba replied with a faint sigh, shaking his head slightly. "And you... it’s obvious your field revolves around soulcraft. My domain lies elsewhere — in the study of blood, essence, and the biological distinctions among living beings. If I tried to assist you two, I’d only end up slowing the entire process down."
Then, turning back to his teacher, Jabba’s tone softened. "Do you have sothing new for to start on? Anything at all. I want to be useful again."
"No," Robin said firmly, lifting his pen from the board and tapping it thoughtfully against his temple. After a mont’s silence, he lowered it again and added, "You should focus on yourself first. Maybe you haven’t realized it yet, but your energy cultivation is completely depleted — your soul force, gone. Even your physical strength has deteriorated to almost nothing. Right now, you’re barely stronger than an ordinary mortal. I had to refill your life artery more than once just to keep your body stable and your youth preserved."
"...?!" Jabba blinked, startled, then imdiately began inspecting his body. "Oh... so that’s why..."
Indeed, when his consciousness had first returned, he’d been too dazed to notice much of anything. The world around him had felt distant, blurry, unreal. He’d stumbled to his feet like a man reborn after centuries of slumber, eyes darting around in confusion — until they found the faint silhouette of his master sitting at the cave’s entrance, surrounded by faint golden light. Without hesitation, he had walked toward that familiar figure, never stopping to notice how utterly frail he felt.
That day... when he had crafted the massive array intended to kill off the army of the Great Serpent Empire — his initial plan had been to power it through an enormous cluster of energy pearls. But that attempt had failed miserably. The array couldn’t siphon energy from the Pearls fast enough to sustain activation.
So he had made a desperate choice: to connect the formation directly to his own energy gathering center. It was, in theory, the fastest and most direct way to deliver a surge of energy vast enough to awaken the formation. But even then, the array rely flickered for a heartbeat before falling silent once more.
So, in a final, furious act of defiance, Jabba had clenched his teeth, his eyes burning with resolve, and connected the array to everything — his life vein, his energy gathering center, even the vast stores of force he had built up over a lifeti within his muscles, all of it funneled through the ancient tattoos that covered his body.
He had thought bitterly: If death is inevitable, then why keep anything behind? Let my body burn, as long as my purpose is fulfilled.
And only then — only when everything he was had been sacrificed — did the array truly awaken. The air had trembled, the ground cracked, and his veins had shone like molten gold as the formation waited obediently for his final command.
Even with all that power — with every last drop of strength he possessed — the array hadn’t been able to engulf the entirety of the Great Serpent Empire’s army. It had managed to strike only a few hundred soldiers...
But apparently, even that — was enough to change everything.
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