"You…" The middle-aged woman with the crown of feathers pointed at Robin, her expression sharp with disbelief. "Do you even realize… what would happen to you if that person heard what you just said?!"

In truth, if there was a single force within the 99th Middle Sector that hadn't yet heard the name Black Wasps, then those poor souls had likely sealed their doors for centuries—never stepping outside, never letting the wind blow through their windows since ancient times.

The Black Wasps represented pure, undiluted terror to every organized army in the sector. When they first appeared, they began slaughtering ancient beasts, pirates, and demonic forces that plagued the starfields. At first, everyone praised them; they were hailed as heroes who purged chaos.

But then… everything changed.

Without warning, they began targeting unaligned armies—ambushing them, annihilating both sides of any battle they encountered. If they found two factions warring, the Black Wasps would strike, wiping out both armies in a single merciless assault.

This became a repeating nightmare across the sector. The phenomenon spread so widely that even the bravest generals began trembling at the idea of sending troops beyond imperial borders. The outside stars became a forbidden zone drenched in fear.

Why did they do it? No one knew. No one benefited. There was no profit, no political motive—only senseless destruction.

But the event that finally broke the universe's back was the day the three division leaders of the Black Wasps launched an assault on the capital of the Ancestal Blood Empire alone… and completely obliterated it—while the planetary emperor himself was present that day.

No, it didn't end there. The three of them faced him head-on and lived to tell the tale.

Three commanders… each one only possessing the might of a Martial emperor!

From that day forth, their arrogance grew boundless. Their goals became vaster, their movements wilder.

They continued to move with the same audacity as before, destroying everything in their path without clear reason—but now their targets included multiple planetary empires. They began plundering their treasures, looting entire worlds.

The Black Wasps and their three leaders became grim reapers wandering between stars—harvesters of souls. Because they had no fixed headquarters for enemies to strike, no one knew how to retaliate. The only countermeasure left was to distribute the few captured portraits of their faces to star academies, hoping the younger generation would handle them if they ever appeared again.

And yet, even when several high-ranking imperial officers had seen the faces of the three leaders, none dared to create official wanted posters.

For years, this excuse persisted. Every emperor, every warlord repeated the same justification:

"We cannot deal with the Black Wasps. They vanish and appear without trace. They have no home to burn, no nest to crush."

That continued—until the day Marshal Aro held that gloomy, fateful banquet. There, before the eyes of the most powerful planetary emperors, he revealed the three infamous leaders—and with them, the full legion of 900 Black Wasps.

It was the first time ever anyone realized there were nine hundred of them!

At that private gathering—attended only by emperors of planetary empires—the three commanders stood tall among them, introducing themselves as equals. They were not guests, but peers.

They were only Fourth Stage Law Users, yet in that hall of cosmic rulers, they were the true center of attention.

Wade. Latania. Malik.

Thier names was heared in that hall for the first time...

Those names—names that were supposed to remain hidden—no one present that day could ever forget them.

For those names, those three faces, embodied the ultimate humiliation of the gathered monarchs.

After their official announcement of allegiance to the Grave Empire, the old excuse of "the Wasps are hidden" could no longer satisfy anyone. The Wasps now had an official home, an empire to belong to… and yet, still, no one dared to strike the Grave Empire!

Even after the revelation, the Black Wasps returned to their chaotic ways. They acted with slightly more restraint, avoiding direct provocation—but their interference still disrupted the affairs of dozens of empires across all starfields.

Many imperial rulers filed complaints directly to Marshal Aro himself. His only answer was a simple, cold phrase:

"Apologies. I can't control them completely."

That bastard knew full well that no one dared attack him because of them.

And without a cause great enough to unite all empires beneath one banner, retaliation would never come.

After all, those three leaders once fought a Nexus State being during the infamous incident—drove him into madness—and lived while he vanished without a trace.

If just three could achieve that… what about nine hundred?

Were they all that powerful? Probably not.

But no one wanted to test it.

The six planetary emperors seated in the hall today—all of them had attended the Black Wasps' induction ceremony.

All of them had been stung twice or more by the Wasps' raids, suffering devastating losses.

And all of them… remained silent.

The reason they stood there now, frozen in silence and tangled in uncertainty?

It was because no one—absolutely no one—was ever supposed to know those names.

Those three names were meant to remain buried in secrecy, locked away within the memory of a single, sacred hall.

Only a few individuals in existence had ever heard them: the emperors of the planetary empires, the rulers of the centennial realms, and the envoys of the millennial dominions.

Every one of them had sworn upon their emblems of power never to utter those names aloud again.

And Robin… clearly, he was none of them.

Of course, there was always the possibility that the information had been leaked—whispered in the wrong ear, traded for influence, or stolen by some shadowy spy.

But there was also a second, far more disquieting possibility—one that sent a chill through even the most composed of minds:

That nothing had been leaked at all.

That Robin truly, genuinely, knew one of those figures on a personal level.

The name Wade—the most brutal, blood-soaked, and unpredictable among the three leaders—rang like a curse in their thoughts.

He was known for his insanity, his laughter in the midst of slaughter, his cruelty that spared neither soldier nor emperor.

And for Robin to speak that name so casually… it defied reason.

"Enough of this madness for today! I'm leaving!"

The man with the crimson, pulsating veins barked angrily, waving his arm as though to shake off the growing tension in the air.

He turned sharply and stormed out of the hall, his followers hurrying after him, their faces darkened and trembling with hesitation.

It was clear—they wanted to protest, to demand answers, but fear had already sealed their throats.

"Professor, I'll try to handle the situation. Please, don't worry,"

His student bowed politely toward Robin, her voice laced with respect and concern, before she, too, left with the departing group.

"…" Harper remained still for a few seconds after the doors closed.

Then, after a quick glance at the silent emperors, he leaned forward slightly, speaking in a low, cautious tone.

"Professor, shall I forward their file to Commander Malik?"

"…?!"

A sudden stiffness rippled through the hall—the air itself seemed to halt for a breath.

The remaining emperors froze in disbelief.

Another name.

It was the second forbidden name spoken so casually in their presence, like thunder echoing through sacred silence.

"There's no need," Robin replied lazily, waving one hand without even opening his eyes.

"Just keep an eye on them. If they show any abnormal rise in power within their armies—or if a member of their royal families sends their files to Malik or to Latania—it's fine."

Finally, he opened his eyes, letting his calm, unreadable gaze sweep across the room.

"Hmm? None of you are planning to leave? Morgana won't be giving a lecture today, you know."

"….."

The three standing emperors clenched their fists, visibly restraining themselves from shouting.

Their subordinates behind them kept utterly still—nobody wanted to be the one to speak, nobody wanted to bear the weight of what might follow.

It was a silence filled with fear and fragile pride.

"Oh well, that's fine then," Robin said at last, stretching lazily before smiling with a trace of mockery.

"I can't force you to leave… so I suppose I'll take my leave instead."

"Wait!"

"Hmm?"

Robin turned his head toward the back rows of the auditorium.

A group of dark-skinned beings sat there—each with glowing yellow eyes and elongated fangs that gleamed faintly under the artificial lights.

It was the first time any of them had spoken.

"Professor Robin," their leader began, his deep, resonant voice carrying through the hall like rolling thunder.

"Forget the children's techniques for now. Let's speak of matters that truly matter."

He leaned forward slowly, his eyes locking onto Robin's with the intensity of a predator sizing up its prey.

"Let's not play games. Who are you really? What is your true connection to the Centennial Grave Empire—and to the Black Wasps?"

Then, pressing both muscular arms against the table before him, he continued in a threatening, deliberate tone:

"And I advise you to choose your next words with extreme care. Empty arrogance won't serve you here. We have… certain ties with them. Whatever you say now will reach their ears. And when it does… believe me, you'll have far greater things to fear than us."

Robin chuckled softly, his eyes glinting with quiet amusement.

"The Centennial Grave Empire, you say?"

He straightened up slowly, his tone calm but laced with something dangerous—something sharp and absolute.

Then, with a faint, confident smile that sent a shiver through the air, he said,

"It's my personal property."

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