"…It's my personal property."

Robin's voice carried a peculiar stillness—calm on the surface, yet filled with an undercurrent of quiet authority. His smile, though faint, was edged with an almost dangerous sharpness, an expression that seemed to pierce through the silence and burrow into the hearts of everyone present. The entire hall froze in place, as if time itself had forgotten how to move.

"...?!"

Dozens of faces shifted in an instant. Some twisted in disbelief, others darkened with anger or outright dread. Even Shaddad and Morgana, who had seen Robin act with boldness before, couldn't mask their astonishment.

As for Harper, standing near the side wall, his composure cracked. His head snapped up, eyes wide and uncertain, his mind racing to make sense of what he had just heard.

"…?!"

He had been the one personally instructed to join under the guise of a disciple, to maintain the master's secrecy, to ensure that no one would ever connect Robin to the rumors of the empire. So why—why now—would his majesty cast away that veil and proclaim such a truth before all?

"HaHa! Yes! Swallow that, all of you!"

Jabba's laughter burst out suddenly, wild and uncontrolled, bouncing awkwardly across the cold marble of the grand hall. It was a laugh of disbelief, defiance, and perhaps a hint of pride, yet even his voice trembled beneath the weight of what Robin had just declared.

Under the barrage of bewildered stares, Robin remained unmoved. He stood tall, serene, his posture unshaken by the storm around him. His faint smile did not fade—it deepened slightly, as if he were silently inviting them: Ask. Challenge me. See what happens next.

"You…" one of the elders—an old man with deer-like antlers curving above his head—lifted a trembling hand to point at him. "Are you saying that you are the Silent Emperor?"

"Hmm?" Robin tilted his head, waving one hand lazily as if brushing aside a trivial rumor. "No. He works for me too."

The air itself seemed to fracture.

A collective gasp erupted—sharp and disbelieving.

"Is there no end to your arrogance and lies?!" cried one of the women from the Feathered Crown Dominion, her voice cutting through the noise like a blade. "You're a mere professor—a man who lives off student tuition! What could you, of all people, possess to make the Silent Emperor and the Centennial Grave Empire serve you?"

Robin chuckled softly, raising a single finger. "First of all," he said, tone calm and deliberate, "I don't live off tuition. I haven't taken anything from your children." He then gestured to the side with almost playful elegance. "And second… who said I lack the qualifications to lead a Centennial Empire? Do you really think I'm weaker than any of you?"

Hummmmm…

A sound, low and resonant, filled the air as space itself seemed to hum in response. Behind Robin, a Soul Gate began to open—a gleaming rift in the air that pulsed with radiant, violet light. From its depths poured a dense, luminous substance, heavy and slow, like molten starlight descending from another plane.

BOOOOOOM!

The moment that concentrated soul matter touched the floor, the marble shattered and sank inward, forming a deep crater that sent shockwaves through the entire academic complex. The walls groaned; the pillars quivered. The pressure that flooded the hall was overwhelming—thick, alive, almost sentient in its density.

"Ah!" Morgana gasped aloud, her pupils dilating. As a Soul Mistress, she needed no further proof. That pressure wasn't a projection or illusion—it was the real thing.

"T-This… this can't be!"

Even those who had tried to remain seated were forced to their feet, trembling as the waves of power rolled through them. "I can feel it—it's his gate! His real soul gate!"

Robin's five remaining students covered their mouths in shock, their bodies shaking as the truth dawned upon them.

It was the first time they realized the terrifying truth—

Their mild, inpatient instructor… was a Royal Soul Master.

"He's a Royal Soul Master…" someone muttered, voice tight with disbelief. "So what? Does that suddenly make him untouchable? Does he think he can rule the world now?!"

"…That density," whispered the dark-skinned man, his brow glistening with cold sweat. "The concentration of that soul force… how many stars could produce it? Three? Four?! No… it feels deeper. Heavier…"

"...…."

Robin did not reply. He simply let the silence stretch, the violet aura continuing to spill from the gate like a divine flood. The light shimmered against the marble floor, casting long, eerie shadows that made every breath in the room feel heavier.

He stood there, waiting—patient as eternity itself.

Because now… the time had finally come.

Four hundred and sixty years from this very day, unless destiny shifted the timeline forward, Nihari would ascend—and merge entirely with the Centennial Grave Empire. When that moment arrived, Robin would have no choice but to step into the open. He would fight with his own hands, stand at the frontlines of both diplomacy and devastation, shield his dominion, and claim his rightful throne.

He would reveal himself to the worlds as the Emperor, while Aro stood behind him in silent respect, awaiting his every command.

And so, if that destiny could not be avoided—then why not embrace it early? Why not reveal the truth now, while it could serve his greater designs?

As a Royal Soul Master, he already possessed every qualification to rule a Centennial Empire. His aura alone carried enough might to command armies and bend courtiers to silence. Even among those present—emperors, lords, and envoys—his presence stood equal, if not above.

He might not win every battle, perhaps. But he would never lose.

For the Silent Emperor's era had reached its end.

His purpose was fulfilled.

And Robin's reign… was about to begin.

There would be absolutely no issue if it were announced to the world that he — a quiet, unassuming academic instructor named Robin Burton — was, in fact, the Emperor.

After all, the Silent Emperor himself had only appeared before the public twice in the span of centuries. To the common people, the two figures were equally mysterious, equally untouchable — distant names wrapped in myth. Whether it was a scholar from an academy or a shadowed Silent One ruling from behind veils, both were nothing more than legends to the masses.

The real danger, however, lay not in the revelation of his imperial identity — but in what lay behind it. To expose that Robin Burton was the Lord of the Shadow Swords, to let the world learn that he was, in truth, a Lord Human, or to reveal the existence and location of the True Beginning Empire and Nihari — that would not just cause chaos; it would ignite a cataclysm that could swallow empires. Such truths, revealed at the wrong time, could bring extinction. That… would be fatal unless unveiled at the precise, destined moment.

"Professor Robin," the middle-aged, dark-skinned man said, his tone low and deliberate, his golden eyes locking with Robin's. "You've certainly demonstrated your power and qualifications. But that alone doesn't prove your claim. Every person in this room has seen the Silent Emperor with their own eyes — we all know his presence."

"..." The man with antler-like horns spoke next, though his tone had softened slightly, shedding its earlier hostility. "Do you have anything that could verify what you're saying? A seal, a token, something that confirms your words?"

"Hmm?" Robin raised an eyebrow, a faint smile stretching across his face. "And tell me — why should I prove anything to you? The fate of Garagnakh's faction has already been decided. Leave, watch what happens next, and we'll talk again when you've seen enough~"

"You wouldn't risk revealing something this dangerous merely to intimidate us, Professor Robin," the dark-skinned man continued, crossing his arms slowly. "You had other means — countless ways — to threaten us. Even staying silent after claiming you knew the Black Wasp Commanders would've been enough to plant fear. But you didn't stop there, did you?" He pointed calmly toward Robin, his tone sharp as a blade. "If you expect us to listen, if you want something from us, then you must first prove who you really are."

"Heh~" Robin let out a low chuckle as he sank back into his seat, leaning lazily on one armrest. "Dealing with clever people can be refreshing... but every now and then, it becomes utterly exhausting." His eyes drifted toward Harper. "Go and fetch them proof."

"Yes, your majesty." Harper bowed slightly, turned, and strode out of the grand hall without hesitation, his steps echoing against the marble.

Robin then turned his attention back to the gathered rulers and envoys. His tone was calm, but there was an unmistakable sharpness beneath the surface.

"To be perfectly honest, I've always preferred negotiating after breaking a few skulls first — it tends to make the other side appreciate how serious I am. It would've been far simpler if you all had left, waited a few days, and then returned after seeing what will happen to Garagnakh and the Eternal Turtle Empire…" He paused, a glint of amusement flashing in his eyes. "But since you're all so eager to stay, fine — we'll move this conversation forward a little sooner than planned."

He gestured lightly with one hand, his movements casual yet commanding. "If you're truly interested we can speak while waiting for the proof." Then, after motioning for them all to take their seats, he continued with a tone that almost sounded polite, "You may consider what follows to be a friendly discussion. And should my proof fail to satisfy you, you're free to leave and await news of the Eternal Turtle Empire, just as the original plan dictated."

"..." A heavy silence lingered for a few heartbeats as the attendees exchanged wary glances. One by one, they began to sit, though none could truly relax. The weight in the air was palpable — the kind that only appeared when too many powerful people tried to mask their fear.

"What negotiation are you referring to, Professor Robin?" a green-skinned man finally asked after taking his seat. "How could handing over half the wealth of our empires possibly benefit us in the long run?"

"Hmm?" Robin laughed lightly, the sound neither mocking nor kind. "What could I possibly want with your wealth or resources? Can't you see the army of the Centennial Grave Empire? Can't you see the armor of the Black Wasps? The Grave Empire expanded this quickly only because it poured mountains of pearls and resources into its war machine — amounts that would make your entire treasuries look like petty pocket change. I'm sorry, but such numbers don't even register in my eyes."

"Then what is it you truly desire?" asked the woman with the radiant feathered crown, her voice trembling with restrained fury. It was the first time in her life that someone had not only threatened to strip them bare — but had done so while openly mocking the act of theft itself.

Robin grew quiet for a moment. Then, with a slow, confident smile that carried both warmth and command, he said softly —

"What I want… is you. As my followers, of course."

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