The Ripple of Unrest
The Millennium of Peace had settled over the Aurekawa Citadel, its foundation the eternal, absolute bond of King Hayate and Consort Neshuda. Their shared soul provided perfect synchronization, eliminating almost all internal political strife and securing the borders with unnerving efficiency. Yet, even perfect peace cannot stop the world from turning.
A new problem began to emerge, not of spiritual darkness or military threat, but of cultural and historical decay. Rumors arrived from the southern continent—a vast, unsettled region known for its ancient ruins and isolated peoples—about an unsettling phenomenon: entire communities were losing their collective memory.
Villagers in remote regions could no longer recall their ancestors, their traditions, or even their own recent histories. This memory loss was silent, gradual, and devastating, crippling social structure and identity. Scholars dubbed it the Amnesia Plague.
Master Yufra, the scholar who discovered the Cradle of Light, was the first to sound the alarm in the Citadel.
"My King, Consort," Yufra reported, his voice tight with concern. "The Amnesia Plague is not a disease of the body. It is a spiritual malignancy that targets history itself. It is attacking the very essence of civilization."
Hayate and Neshuda, standing together, instantly shared the knowledge. Hayate felt Neshuda's cold spike of vigilance, and Neshuda felt Hayate's deep, intellectual urgency.
This is a threat to the heart, Anchor. To identity, Hayate projected through their shared consciousness.
It is a threat we cannot fight with a sword, my King. We must understand it first, Neshuda responded, his mind already formulating a plan for reconnaissance.
The Forgotten City of Lyra
Master Yufra explained his discovery: he had tracked the source of the plague to a geographically unstable zone in the deep southern continent, the site of the legendary Forgotten City of Lyra.
"Lyra was an immense, ancient metropolis, built by a culture that mastered spiritual technology long before the Ghoul Wars," Yufra explained. "It was destroyed by an unknown spiritual catastrophe. My research suggests the Amnesia Plague is caused by a massive, uncontrolled spiritual defense system of Lyra that has activated—a defense designed to erase the knowledge of its own destruction."
"A defense mechanism that became a ghost," Neshuda mused. "It is erasing the history of the entire continent to protect a secret."
The mission was clear: they had to venture into the deepest, least-mapped parts of the world, find the City of Lyra, and deactivate its ghostly spiritual protection before it erased the memories of the entire mainland.
This time, the challenge was uniquely suited to their eternal bond. To stop a power that erases memory, they needed a union so absolute that memory was an integral, shared function.
Hayate reviewed the necessity. "This mission is political, spiritual, and requires absolute stealth. We cannot involve armies. It must be a surgical strike."
"We go alone, my King," Neshuda asserted, his mind already set. "We will take Winter for logistics, and a small, fast vessel. Our bond is the only map that matters."
The Journey South
The journey took weeks, sailing on a stealth cutter guided by Winter, who was thrilled by the challenge of navigating uncharted waters. They sailed far south, past the familiar trade routes of Pheurika Island, into regions of heavy fog and unpredictable currents.
As they sailed deeper into the southern continent's influence, Hayate and Neshuda began to feel the spiritual effect of the Amnesia Plague. It was not painful, but deeply unsettling—a subtle, constant pressure trying to flatten their memories, to convince them their shared past was just a dream.
Hayate would feel a flicker of doubt about a cherished memory, and Neshuda would instantly flood their shared mind with the absolute physical reality of that moment—the texture of the king's robes, the scent of the sea, the weight of the sword, the feeling of their merged souls during the Eternal Imprint.
One night, sitting in the cabin, Hayate felt a wave of cold spiritual pressure trying to convince him that Neshuda's existence was merely a political alliance, not a sacred bond.
Neshuda, feeling the assault on their shared reality, immediately wrapped Hayate in a fierce, urgent embrace, channeling a torrent of physical sensation and absolute, sweet love into the bond. He lifted the King into his lap, holding him tightly against the hard, warm reality of his body.
"It is a lie, my King," Neshuda whispered, his voice rough with absolute certainty. "I am here. I am real. Our history is real."
Neshuda's kiss was deep and demanding—a physical, undeniable vow that used the intensity of their physical connection to burn away the spiritual doubt. He pressed his body into Hayate's, demanding total attention and physical confirmation. The shared ecstasy was a weapon, forcing the spiritual assault to acknowledge the profound, tangible reality of their merged souls.
The spiritual pressure would retreat, beaten back by the physical and emotional truth of their bond.
The Gates of Lyra
Finally, they reached the desolate coastline of the southern continent. The journey inland was difficult, requiring Neshuda's expert tracking and survival skills. They traversed a landscape of spiritual confusion, where compasses failed and landmarks seemed to shift in the fog.
They found the city hidden deep within a narrow, mist-shrouded valley. Lyra was immense, built of seamless, black, volcanic glass, soaring into the fog. It was utterly silent, radiating no light, no warmth, and no signs of life—a city of perfect, cold geometry.
Hayate felt the sheer power of the spiritual defense surrounding the city—an ancient, complex mechanism designed not for destruction, but for absolute oblivion.
"The defense is trying to flatten our minds, Anchor," Hayate warned, his voice low. "It wants to make us forget why we are here."
Neshuda gripped Hayate's hand, channeling his fierce, unwavering resolve. We will not forget. Our bond is the memory.
The two men used their combined focus to penetrate the city's perimeter. Neshuda used his physical strength and stealth to bypass the few remaining mechanical traps, while Hayate used his Angelic aura to spiritually dampen the erasure field just enough for them to move without total confusion.
The Core of Erasure
They reached the city center, a vast, circular plaza where the spiritual power was concentrated. In the center, a gigantic, obsidian obelisk pulsed with a faint, dark-purple light—the source of the Amnesia Plague.
As they approached the obelisk, the erasure field intensified. Hayate felt his own memories of the Aurekawa Citadel growing hazy—the faces of Torvin and Winter, the shape of the mountain, even the sight of his own coronation—all dissolving into mist.
Neshuda, feeling the terror and confusion of the King through their merged soul, immediately pulled Hayate close, securing him in a desperate, powerful embrace.
Hold onto me, my King! Hold onto the truth! Neshuda screamed mentally, his entire being focusing on projecting absolute reality.
Neshuda forced their minds to focus on the memories forged by the bond—the shared agony of the Sorrow Stones, the moment of the Eternal Imprint, the feel of their obsidian rings on their skin, the scent of Hayate's favorite tea, the heat of their shared bed.
The memories held fast, burning away the confusing mist. Their shared consciousness was the only thing the ancient defense could not touch, because their reality was not stored in two minds, but in one eternal flow.
The task was to deactivate the obelisk, and the only way to do so was to introduce a spiritual counter-frequency—the purest form of the Angelic aura channeled directly into the obelisk's core.
"I have to touch the obelisk, Anchor," Hayate stated, his voice steady now. "I must channel the full light. But if I do, the obelisk's field will focus on my mind—it will try to erase everything I am."
Neshuda's eyes were cold with absolute determination. He knew the risk. If the erasure field hit Hayate's core, it might not just erase memory; it might erase the King's entire personality and the Angelic aura itself.
The Ultimate Anchor
Neshuda made the final, eternal decision of the Life Anchor.
"You will not go alone, my King," Neshuda vowed, his voice ringing with fierce certainty.
He stripped off his armor and leather harness, his powerful, disciplined body exposed to the cold, erasing light. He then pulled Hayate into an absolute, commanding embrace, sealing his mouth over the King's in a deep, consuming kiss.
Neshuda backed up, walking both of them toward the pulsing obsidian obelisk, never breaking the kiss, never releasing the King's body. He pressed Hayate's bare back against the chilling stone of the obelisk, forcing the King to make contact.
The spiritual feedback was instantaneous and catastrophic. The obelisk screamed, channeling its full power directly into the King's core, desperately trying to erase his knowledge, his identity, and his essence.
Hayate felt the overwhelming, cold pressure trying to strip his mind bare—memories, language, even the knowledge of his own name dissolving.
But Neshuda held fast. He pressed his body fiercely against Hayate's, dominating the physical space. His physical contact became the ultimate anchor. He used the total spiritual flow of their shared soul, channeling his purest, absolute love and fury into Hayate, and then directing the King's Angelic aura through his own body and into the obelisk.
Neshuda's own mind was exposed to the erasure field, but he shielded Hayate perfectly by accepting the spiritual assault himself. He focused on the raw, undeniable pleasure and pain of their physical union—the feeling of the King's skin against his, the weight of their merged consciousness, the absolute reality of their mouths joined in a desperate, loving kiss.
He used the sweet, consuming intensity of their bond—the ultimate physical intimacy—as a defiant truth against the lie of oblivion. The spiritual pleasure and physical reality became the unshakeable memory that nothing could erase.
The Angelic aura, channeled by Neshuda's perfect resolve, flowed into the obelisk. The black stone shimmered violently, then shattered, exploding in a silent burst of dark-purple energy that dissipated harmlessly into the fog.
The Light of Memory
Silence descended upon the Forgotten City of Lyra. The erasing field was gone.
Neshuda collapsed, utterly spent, pulling Hayate down with him onto the cold, stone floor. They lay tangled together, their breathing ragged, their bodies slick with sweat, but their minds perfectly whole.
Hayate felt the deep exhaustion in Neshuda, the raw spiritual energy spent, but also the overwhelming, sweet relief and fierce triumph.
Hayate held Neshuda close, burying his face in the warrior's neck, kissing the strong, familiar skin. "You took the hit again, Anchor," Hayate whispered, his voice rough. "You faced oblivion to save my mind."
"I am the Anchor," Neshuda murmured back, tightening his arms around Hayate. "My King's mind is my own. I would sacrifice my memories a thousand times, just to share one perfect moment with you."
They rose from the ruins of the city, not just as conquerors, but as saviors of history. They had secured the knowledge, the power, and the memories of an entire continent. They had also confirmed the absolute, eternal reality of their bond: a shared soul that was immune to spiritual erasure.
They returned to the Citadel with the knowledge secured, their love deepened by the ultimate, shared sacrifice in the face of oblivion.