"...I accept the offer of subordination. From this day forward, my Empire shall become a Wing."

Crack Creek

Every neck in the grand hall snapped toward the source of the sound, the air itself freezing for a moment. Eyes widened in disbelief—shock rippled through the gathered rulers like a tidal wave.

"You?!" someone shouted, his voice echoing off the cold marble.

"…?" Even Robin furrowed his brows faintly. He hadn't expected anyone to accept one of the offers today—let alone to willingly become a Wing. Everything he had said earlier had merely been a way to plant an idea, nothing more. He hadn't thought anyone would truly take it seriously.

Could it be… were the temptations he laid out really that irresistible?

"Howard!!" The stag-horned emperor to the left leapt to his feet, pointing toward him with trembling fingers. "Are you serious?! You're going to throw away the legacy of your ancestors so easily?! You're giving up the lands, the dominion—everything that billions of your soldiers have fought and died for over millions of years just to preserve?!"

"….."

Not far from him, the man with the jelly-like hair looked down, his face shadowed, both hands pressing hard on his knees as though to keep himself from shaking.

Beside him, his daughter Merina and four other members of his bloodline stared at him with round, astonished eyes—unable to process what they had just heard. Their faces were pale, a mixture of disbelief, grief, and confusion etched into every feature.

Howard's wife, the Empress, slowly reached out, placing her palm on his back with a trembling hand. Her expression was filled with pity, with pain—she knew better than anyone how difficult this decision was for her husband. Yet after a moment, she turned her gaze to the right, her voice steady despite the storm within her.

"Who said he's giving up anything? Didn't you listen to the Professor's offer? The only thing we'll lose is the title of a Centurial Empire—and that, too, will only be for a limited time!"

"...."

The green-skinned emperor across the hall narrowed his eyes, studying Howard and his entourage in silence. After several long seconds, he exhaled softly and shook his head.

"Don't blame him," he said coolly. "He was going to lose the Centurial title sooner or later anyway."

"You!!" Howard's wife turned sharply toward him, her voice trembling with fury, ready to scream and defend her husband's pride.

But Paa—Howard's hand moved in a flash, catching her wrist gently but firmly. He gave her a small shake of the head, then looked toward the green-skinned ruler.

"That's completely true," he said, his voice calm and grave. Then, standing tall, he bowed lightly to everyone present, his tone carrying both humility and dignity. "Please, I ask that no one here see this as betrayal, nor as an attempt to put you in a difficult position. You all know our circumstances. You know how desperate our bloodline has become."

Then, with deliberate slowness, he turned toward Robin.

"Professor Robin," Howard began, a tired smile curling his lips. "In truth, I command only 107 planets now. We were once close to reaching the millennium's standing, but a few thousand years ago, our bloodline density suddenly collapsed. It began to fade."

"…"

Robin nodded, his expression softening with understanding. He had already examined the blood of the jellyfish beast flowing through Merina's veins—it was unstable, disordered, barely holding itself together. The degeneration was obvious. A beast like that offered immense power upon the first injection, but it abandoned its host soon after. Its best use was never in building a race, but in crafting temporary talismans and short-lived stimulants. Whoever had chosen it as the core of a new lineage… had doomed them all.

They could only blame their ancestor—the one who first injected that accursed blood into his body, binding his descendants to a dying fate.

"…When I saw my daughter produce something that looked like the slime from pure energy—the same slime our people once refined from the beast's blood—I was on the verge of losing my mind," Howard said, his voice trembling faintly. "I thought I had finally found the key, the salvation that could stop our inevitable decay. I nearly experimented on myself immediately—but she stopped me. She insisted that I meet you first."

A crooked smile stretched across his face, equal parts hope and madness. "If you'll have us, Professor Robin, I am willing to pledge my Empire as a Wing for ten thousand years, in exchange for spreading that technique to all my people."

Then he slowly raised his finger toward the sky, voice firm and resonant.

"All I ask of you is this—swear, before heaven and law, that you will not resent us if we choose to leave after those ten thousand years, and that you will never disable or tamper with the first and second levels of that technique or use it against us!"

"Tsk~"

Several members of other royal entourages sneered, shaking their heads with mocking smiles.

"...."

Howard's shoulders stiffened, and he lowered his gaze in silent embarrassment.

His Empire was, without question, the weakest of all those present. It was obvious to everyone that he was simply seeking protection under the Centurial Grave Empire before his title was stripped away completely.

And yet, even in his weakness, he dared to demand an oath—a condition beyond all the generous terms already granted.

Such audacity... and yet, perhaps, such desperation as well.

"...."

Robin's gaze lingered on Howard for a long, heavy moment, his expression unreadable. The entire amphitheater seemed to quiet down, as if even the air itself waited for his judgment.

The very first reason he had ever chosen to teach that particular class was because of one simple observation—the blood running through Merina's veins. He had sensed something ancient and potent within it, yet used in the most inefficient, self-destructive way possible. He'd taken an interest in her, made a few small adjustments to her combat method, helped her refine her control over that chaotic power, and within months she had become the strongest in her class—one of the most exceptional students in the entire academy.

And now… after seeing her succeed in producing such an immense quantity of energy slime entirely on her own, Robin couldn't help but wonder just how far this bloodline could go.

Their blood wasn't merely strong; it was alive, constantly shifting and mutating, like a sea beast's core refusing extinction. If properly nurtured and guided, this lineage could become one of the pillars of the Grave Empire itself. Once their armies began mastering the jelly techniques, their rise would be inevitable. Robin could already imagine it—Howard's domain evolving from a weak fading Centurial Empire into a Millennial Wing, a branch whose power would echo for ages.

"...."

After deliberately pausing as if weighing countless possibilities in his mind, Robin finally nodded.

"Very well," he said, his voice calm yet carrying authority that silenced even the whispers at the edges of the hall. "You have my word. I shall not retract a single thing I've promised."

Then, a small smile curved on his lips—one of approval mixed with something more enigmatic.

"And because you were decisive—the first among all here to take the step—consider this an additional gift: your separation peace period shall last a thousand years, not just five hundred."

"R-Really?!"

The Planetary Emperor Howard's composure shattered instantly. He stepped forward too quickly, bumping into the long crystalline desk before him with an audible thud. The amphitheater trembled faintly as his excitement overpowered his dignity.

"Thank you! Thank you, Professor Robin—no, forgive me—thank you, Your Majesty!" he exclaimed, almost choking on his words.

"…!"

Merina clasped both hands over her mouth, her eyes sparkling with disbelief.

Just like that? With only a few words—her father's Empire had become a subordinate to the mysterious Professor Robin?

"Compose yourself, Howard," came a cold, elegant voice from the left. The woman wearing the radiant crown of feathers waved her hand lazily without even turning her head. "At least pretend to keep your composure. You still don't even know whether this man's words truly represent the Grave Empire itself."

"...?"

Howard froze, his face stiffening. His mouth opened slightly, but no words came out. The realization hit him like a blade.

If Robin failed to present proof of his authority—if he turned out to be an impostor or a liar—then Howard would be finished. His reputation, his throne, even the fragments of respect his lineage still carried… all gone.

Knock Knock

The tension broke as a polite sound came from the grand doorway.

Harper stood there—still wearing his student uniform, modest and neat. Despite the storm inside the room, he bowed with calm respect.

"May I come in, Professor?" he asked gently.

"Come in," Robin replied with an amused smile, waving casually. Perfect timing, he thought.

But Harper didn't move forward. Instead, he stepped to the side and bowed even deeper this time.

"Please, enter," he announced, his voice steady.

Step Step

The sound of footsteps echoed clearly through the chamber—slow, deliberate, heavy with authority.

A tall figure appeared at the threshold: a man with the mighty horns of a bull, long white hair cascading over his shoulders, and a robe of deep azure silk that shimmered faintly with runic light. His presence alone bent the air around him.

Someone everyone in the hall recognized at first sight.

"…?"

The stag-horned Planetary Emperor slowly rose to his feet, his voice trembling with disbelief. "Marshal Aro?"

"Hah hah, Marshal Aro!" another emperor laughed nervously. "I truly didn't expect to see you here of all places."

"Hmm."

Aro's tone was cool and measured. As a wielder of the Fourth Stage Heavenly Laws, he neither bowed nor showed the slightest fear toward the gathered rulers. Instead, he merely nodded politely, his aura like a calm sea hiding a storm beneath.

"I greet the honored sovereigns," he said evenly, acknowledging the crowd but offering no deference.

Then came the moment of truth.

His eyes finally found Robin—seated casually on the professor's chair, legs crossed, the faintest playful smile curving his lips.

"It's been a long time, kid~" Robin said lightly, his tone carrying both familiarity and quiet power.

Aro's expression didn't change. He didn't respond immediately. Instead, he began walking toward Robin with slow, deliberate steps that made the floor creak beneath his boots.

Howard could barely breathe. Sweat beaded down his temples, his heart pounding so loud he could hear it.

He prayed—silently, desperately—that Marshal Aro would recognize Robin. That he would speak, confirm his identity, or at least acknowledge that he had the right to speak in the name of the Grave Empire.

Finally, Aro stopped just a few meters away. The entire amphitheater held its breath.

BAA!

Suddenly, Aro dropped to the floor—both knees and hands pressed firmly against the ground, his voice erupting like thunder that shook the hall.

"This subordinate," he shouted while prostrating, "pays his deepest respects to His Excellency!"

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