"Timari, what is going on here?!" Robin’s voice was low, yet laced with urgency and disbelief. "How in the world did both planetary-grade artifacts arrive already?! Were you all so certain I’d win them that you shipped them before the auction even ended?!" A swirl of light shimmered gently before him, forming into the elegant silhouette of the fairy, who greeted him with a sly, satisfied smile. She gave a graceful bow mid-air. your sake. Consider it a bonus gift from the Soul Society, in light of your recent contributions.> Robin narrowed his eyes. "Instant delivery?" he repeated slowly. "Are you telling me... you people can send physical, planetary-grade artifacts across sectors just like that?! Effortlessly?!" His heart skipped. This wasn’t just convenience—this was high-level dimensional logistics that could shake galactic strategy to its core. Timari clarified with a little shrug, can.> She floated closer, lowering her voice like one sharing an ancient secret. Robin blinked twice, stunned. "A spatial portal utilizing the seventh stage of the space law...?" His voice lowered to a whisper. "Why... why have I never heard of this before?" He immediately recalled the design he’d received from the Seer—the simplified version combining the fifth and sixth degrees. It had impressed him then, especially because it allowed even low-tier inscription masters to construct functional portals, if given enough time and resources. He’d seen that type of gate across multiple planets—from Azakhra to Zaron—all likely derived from Interas’s basic model. But this... was entirely on another scale. She twirled in the air again, her tone casual but the implications deadly serious. "Benefit? In what way?" His mind immediately leapt to the military implications. "Couldn’t Interas use those portals to launch a full invasion on anywhere, any time he wants?" need portals to travel.> Timari’s voice dropped slightly, now more serious. She lifted a single glowing finger, her wings flickering with faint starlight. profit. To dominate inter-sector commerce. To bind the Soul Society in a subtle but inescapable economic grip. It’s less of a military weapon... and more of a monopoly.> Robin’s brow tightened. "So... it’s more like a forced partnership?" Timari gave a small nod. Without waiting for a reply, she spun in place—and reality shifted around Robin like a curtain being drawn. The world around him transformed instantly. He was no longer in the quiet void of thought but standing inside a small, elegant shop—intimate, clean, and strangely peaceful. Before him sat a simple stand stacked with shimmering, enchanted pages, ready to be flipped like a catalogue. "Huh?" Robin murmured. And then, without even turning a single page, his eyes locked onto the first item displayed: A breathtaking image of a Spatial Portal. "This is absolute robbery!" Robin exploded, his finger stabbing at the floating data slate like it had personally offended him. But then... his outrage began to melt into slow, dawning horror. "Oh no... no, no, no..." he muttered, as his eyes glazed over in realization. For a few seconds, he simply stood there, stunned. He had used that same blueprint—hundreds of times. He’d ordered the construction of portal after portal—some linking vast continents on the same world, others bridging star systems across his empire. He’d used them for war, for commerce, for civilian travel. They had become the lifeblood of his entire logistical network! And now... 20% of all the wealth generated through them... owed by someone else? A Behemoth none the less? That meant centuries of fees. Decades of backlogged energy tolls. That included transit permits, military movement charges, even tourism fees! Robin felt his pulse quicken. "Wait... the Portal Control System... doesn’t it have a ’Revenue Tracker’ feature?!" He smacked his forehead with a loud thwack, a groan escaping his lips. "So that’s how the Great Serpent Empire tracked my planetary strongholds so easily..." "What happens if someone builds these portals without an official license?" His voice was low now—cold, suspicious, almost dangerous. Timari began pleasantly, as if discussing the weather. steal the blueprint—you’ll be classified as a violator. In that case, a punitive enforcement squad from Tyrant Interas’s administrative forces will be deployed.> pay. Either through forced compliance—meaning, immediate license purchase at triple cost—or through... liquidation.> Robin stared at her for a long, long second. "That... that conniving bastard... he knew." "He knew about this. And he still gave me the blueprint, acting like it was some grand favor..." He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "This is extortion. Organized, weaponized extortion on a universal scale." Robin grit his teeth and flipped to the next page in the catalog, praying for mercy but expecting more madness. Robin’s voice cracked. "Ten percent of my entire empire’s revenue... just for a fleet?!" His hand trembled slightly as he pointed at the page. "And if I want to buy it outright... it’s a hundred million? What kind of scam is this?!" Timari explained smoothly. Then, unexpectedly, he grinned. A slow, wicked grin of understanding. "So just the presence of a fifth-stage Space Law application inflates the market value that much, huh?" "Interesting. Very, very interesting..." But before he could start scheming, Timari’s voice cut through his thoughts like a blade: <...Normally, I would encourage you to do whatever you are thinking. After all, your rise is my rise, Lord Human. But if I were you? I’d stop right there.>