The Cold Road North
The journey to the Final Shrine was the most grueling yet. Leaving the relative safety of the Aurekawa Citadel felt wrong, but necessary. They rode north, not towards the decaying shrine of their last battle, but higher, deeper into the remote, frozen peaks where the ancient Seal was anchored to the physical world.
The environment was brutal. The air was thin and cold, and the mountain passes were choked with ice and treacherous footing. The Curse of Reflection was working overtime, mirroring the intense, crushing exhaustion of the physical climb.
Hayate, the King, was physically the weaker one, his Angelic bloodline power still recovering from the dual spiritual and political wars. He felt the grinding ache in Neshuda's muscles, the sharp pain of the wind biting his skin, and the constant strain of guiding the horses up the icy slopes.
But the spiritual pain was gone, replaced by a warm, shared resolve. The confession they had shared in the infirmary had changed everything. They no longer fought the curse; they relied on it.
When Hayate's horse stumbled on the ice, Neshuda was instantly there, his hand gripping Hayate's leg to stabilize him, projecting a wave of strong, focused determination that flowed through the curse and instantly steadied the King's own body.
"Watch your footing, Hayate," Neshuda murmured, his eyes scanning the looming mountain peaks.
"I'm fine," Hayate replied, his voice soft. He knew the words were unnecessary. He felt Neshuda's worry more profoundly than any physical injury. He reached out and gently squeezed Neshuda's gauntleted hand. "Don't worry about me. Focus on the climb. I'll let you know if I feel any pain."
Neshuda nodded, his expression softening slightly. He allowed the King's loving reassurance to settle deep within his heart—the shared vulnerability was their new strength.
The Enemy's Final Traps
As they climbed higher, leaving the tree line behind, the environment became a map of their final enemy's desperate tactics. The followers of the Hidden Clan Leader, known as the Shadow Sect, had set traps designed not to kill, but to drain and despair.
The first attack was subtle: a wave of chilling, ancient malice that Hayate's Angelic senses caught just as they passed through a narrow, rocky crevice.
"Stop!" Hayate cried, pulling back on his reins. "It's a spiritual trap! A wave of manufactured despair is aimed at us!"
The invisible wave of sorrow and fear washed over them. Hayate felt the reflected impact immediately: a sudden, deep sense of grief and worthlessness slammed into his soul, threatening to drown his pure-hearted will.
"Neshuda, focus on our bond!" Hayate gasped, clinging to the saddle. "They want us to despair! They want us to believe the sacrifice is useless!"
Neshuda didn't hesitate. He focused his entire being on the memory of Hayate's sweet, soft face in the Royal Chambers, the vow of shared fate, and the love he felt for the King. He actively pushed his intense, absolute loyalty and cold determination through the Curse of Reflection.
The spiritual despair, hitting the combined force of Hayate's love and Neshuda's loyalty, was instantly countered and shattered. Hayate felt the negative spiritual energy evaporate, replaced by a wave of shared, profound peace and unshakeable resolve.
Neshuda dismounted, scanning the rocks. "They are hiding in the peaks, using ancient curses to attack our minds. They want us to break before we reach the ritual site."
"Then we ride faster," Hayate declared, feeling the shared determination surge. "We will not allow them to separate our minds or our hearts."
The Final Ascent
The last section of the climb was a sheer, icy face, too dangerous for horses. They left the animals hidden in a small cave, continuing on foot.
Neshuda, utilizing his master of stealth and exceptional stray strength, became Hayate's literal Life Anchor. He led the way, his spiked boots finding purchase on impossible terrain, his body constantly providing a handhold for Hayate.
They moved in close physical contact, linked by a rope, and bound by the curse. Hayate felt every icy finger-grip, every painful step, every shudder of effort Neshuda made.
"My hands are freezing, Neshuda," Hayate admitted softly, not complaining, but sharing the vulnerability.
Neshuda stopped immediately, securing their rope. He turned, unlacing his own heavy, leather gloves. He took Hayate's hands, chafed and cold, and gently rubbed them between his own strong, warm hands until the feeling returned. Then, in a moment of tender, spontaneous sweetness, he pulled Hayate's bare hands inside his own massive gloves.
"Wear these, my King," Neshuda ordered gently. "I am used to the cold. Your hands must be warm for the ritual."
Hayate felt a rush of pure tenderness and deep love for his Guardian. The sacrifice was so simple, so practical, yet so profound. He accepted the gesture, feeling Neshuda's own cold hands now exposed, but projecting only warmth and protection through the curse.
"Thank you, my love," Hayate whispered, using the unspoken endearment without thinking.
Neshuda froze, his breath catching in the frigid air. He didn't reply with words; he simply squeezed Hayate's hands through the thick leather, his heart swelling with a fierce, quiet joy that made Hayate feel a profound sense of belonging. The word was out, and it was accepted.
They continued the climb, their bond sweeter and stronger than ever, fueled by confessed love and shared pain.
The Ritual Site
They crested the final peak. The Final Shrine was not a building, but a massive, flat circle of black stone, high above the clouds. In the center of the stone was a perfectly carved, massive version of the Seal—a huge, glowing spiritual knot that pulsed with an internal, contained red light.
Around the Seal stood the last of the Shadow Sect—about a dozen cloaked figures, led by a single, powerful priestess.
The priestess stood over a low altar. On the altar, bound and unconscious, was their final sacrifice: Captain Torvin.
"You are too late, King Hayate!" the priestess shrieked, her voice echoing off the ice. "The chaos of Narakka's coup provided the final spiritual fuel! We only need to kill the King's most loyal subject, and the spiritual despair will shatter the Seal forever! The Sacrifice of the Burden will be your failure!"
The other figures began chanting, their voices low and mesmerizing, channeling a wave of pure, concentrated despair toward the unconscious Captain.
Hayate felt the spiritual energy rising—a massive, sickening wave of negative emotion that made his Angelic senses scream. He knew if Torvin died now, the spiritual explosion of despair would be too much for even his pure-hearted soul to contain.
"Neshuda, the Seal is active!" Hayate cried, pulling Neshuda forward. "We must get to the Seal and disrupt the flow before they kill him!"
"They are too many, Hayate!" Neshuda warned, drawing his sword. "I will fight them! You go to the Captain!"
The Battle of Loyalty
Neshuda was a flash of dark steel and pure determination. He charged the group, using his master of stealth speed and sheer skill to engage the dozen cultists alone.
He fought brutally, but defensively, keeping the cultists pinned while Hayate rushed toward the altar.
The priestess, seeing the King's move, grabbed a razor-sharp sacrificial dagger. She ignored Neshuda, focusing entirely on completing the ritual.
Hayate reached the altar just as the priestess raised the knife high above Captain Torvin's chest.
Hayate lunged, tackling the priestess. The spiritual pressure was overwhelming, threatening to crush his soul. He fought her for the dagger, his healing aura flaring in a final, desperate burst of energy.
The priestess screamed, her dark magic clashing violently with Hayate's Angelic bloodline. The dagger clattered harmlessly onto the stone. Torvin was safe, but Hayate was spent.
The final, powerful wave of spiritual despair surged from the still-chanting cultists, aimed directly at the King, who was kneeling, utterly defenseless.
"Now! The burden is yours!" the priestess shrieked in triumph.
The massive spiritual force—the entire accumulated malice and despair of the kingdom—slammed into Hayate. He cried out, his body convulsing as the spiritual agony tried to tear his pure-hearted soul apart.
The True Sacrifice
Neshuda, seeing his King struck down by the spiritual burden, finished the last of the cultists with a brutal efficiency born of absolute loyalty. He turned, his dark eyes fixed on Hayate.
He saw the King writhing in agony on the black stone, the spiritual burden trying to consume him.
He's taking it! He's trying to sacrifice himself! Neshuda's mind screamed.
Neshuda, with one final, desperate burst of strength, ran toward the King. He didn't try to fight the spiritual burden. He didn't try to heal Hayate.
He lunged forward, tackling Hayate, pushing his body completely off the sacred stone.
THWACK!
Neshuda landed heavily on the black stone circle, directly in the path of the spiritual burden. He felt the terrifying, crushing weight of the accumulated despair slam into his own soul. It was agony beyond comprehension—the pain of a billion broken hearts and a thousand years of human failure.
Hayate, lying on the cold ice just off the stone, was instantly free of the spiritual burden. The agony vanished completely, leaving only the terror of watching his Life Anchor screaming on the black stone.
"Neshuda!" Hayate screamed, scrambling back onto the stone, pulling his Guardian into his arms. "Why?! Why did you take my place?!"
Neshuda was convulsing, his body racked by the spiritual attack. His eyes, fixed on Hayate, were full of pain, but also profound, peaceful love.
"Because… your pain was killing me too," Neshuda whispered, his voice fading, using the exact words he knew would cut Hayate the deepest, the final, undeniable truth of their Twin Fates.
He had won. He had sacrificed himself for his King, his love, and his world.
The massive, red spiritual energy of the Seal intensified, flowing into Neshuda's soul—the curse was completing the final ritual.