The Cracks in the Consensus
King Hayate's solitary rule, though flawless in its execution (thanks to Neshuda's final, perfect code), immediately faced internal pressure. The Council of Dual-Being had always relied on the perfect balance between Hayate's overwhelming kinetic power and Neshuda's strategic spiritual clarity. With Neshuda gone, doubts began to surface.
The leading voice of dissent was Minister Alaron, the Chief of Sector Logistics, a cold, calculating man who valued visible proof over legendary sacrifice. Alaron did not question the Eternal Rule, but he questioned the stability of a singular King.
"Your Majesty has ensured the stabilization of the Core," Alaron stated during a routine council session, his voice falsely respectful. "But the Code's stability was achieved by the Consort's spiritual sacrifice. We require proof that the kinetic balance of the King can maintain the integrity of the Foundation alone."
Alaron's demand was logical, but Hayate understood the true motive: they feared the King's grief. They feared a single ruler driven by heartbreak, even if that heartbreak was the source of Aeterna's peace.
Hayate, guided by Neshuda's flawless strategic plan, remained calm. He knew he could not reveal the profound, intimate nature of the Vow or his agonizing, solitary rituals.
"Minister Alaron," Hayate stated, his voice carrying the immense weight of his absolute Resolve. "The Consort did not simply sacrifice himself; he completed the final, ultimate merger with the Core's spiritual essence. The Foundation is now pure, absolute Resolve. My dominance remains absolute, and my purpose is dual: to honor the Consort's devotion and to ensure the Core's kinetic stability."
The answer satisfied the Council for the moment, but Alaron's skepticism lingered, a cold threat to the hard-won peace.
The Haunting of the Throne
The solitude of the immense Citadel was a constant, fresh wound. Hayate avoided their private sanctuary, unable to bear the overwhelming memories of their shared Vows and the final, devastating moments. Instead, he worked and slept in the small, adjacent office, a place Neshuda rarely entered.
But grief was a merciless ghost. Late one night, Hayate was reviewing the Core's kinetic flow charts—charts that Neshuda used to personally verify every evening. Hayate suddenly saw it: a tiny, almost imperceptible flaw in the flow alignment, a slight drift that Neshuda would have instantly corrected.
He knew Neshuda's hand was absent. Neshuda's spiritual precision was missing.
Hayate felt a sudden, crushing wave of guilt. He focused his kinetic power, forcing the flow back into perfect alignment. The effort was immense, requiring total concentration and power that had previously been a natural outflow of their shared Submission.
He stood up, slamming his hand onto the desk, his eyes burning with unshed tears.
"Neshuda! You left me with the perfect world, but you left me alone to run it!" Hayate cried out, his voice raw with despair. "This wasn't the plan! We were supposed to rule together!"
He collapsed, sinking to the floor, his face buried in his hands. He was the King of a perfect, peaceful world, and he was drowning in the agony of that perfection.
I need your voice. I need your calm logic. I need you to command me, he pleaded silently, remembering Neshuda's final, exact command.
The Lonely Ritual
The need for Neshuda's presence—the physical, spiritual, and emotional certainty of their bond—became an overwhelming, physical ache. Hayate realized he couldn't maintain the kinetic stability and the intense focus required to manage the Council's skepticism without the energy boost of the ritual.
He returned to the sanctuary, forced by necessity and agonizing grief. He stood before the Vow platform, the silence immense.
He initiated the solitary ritual, driven by absolute duty. This time, however, he didn't just channel kinetic energy. He brought with him a cherished relic: Neshuda's favorite ceremonial shawl, which still faintly carried the Consort's scent.
Hayate initiated the act of self-dominance, his mind desperately recreating the memory of Neshuda's touch, Neshuda's total surrender. He lay the shawl beside him, reaching for it, clinging to the textile as he drove the intense physical union, trying to trick his soul into believing Neshuda was there.
He focused his immense power, achieving a profound, agonizing physical ecstasy. But this time, as the energy peaked, a sudden, blinding flash of sorrow ripped through his mind.
He saw the memory of Neshuda's final smile, the pure, triumphant love in his eyes as he took the curse. Hayate felt the crushing weight of Neshuda's final words: My pain is gone. Your pain... was always... too much.
The immense physical release mingled with the real spiritual agony of Neshuda's sacrifice. Hayate cried out, tears finally breaking free, wetting the cold silk of Neshuda's shawl.
He achieved the peak kinetic output, stabilizing the Core perfectly, but the cost was devastating. He had generated the world's peace using the pure, raw energy of his grief.
He lay there, utterly spent, clinging to the shawl. The Core hummed perfectly. The world was safe. And Hayate was broken, a King powered by eternal sadness.
He slowly rose, his purpose solidified. He would never yield to Alaron or to doubt. His sorrow was the foundation of the world, and he would carry that weight perfectly, as commanded.