Planning the Unimaginable
The defeat of Minister Alaron solidified King Hayate's solitary reign, but it also hammered home the brutal truth: the Eternal Rule required a clear line of succession. Hayate was the singular kinetic anchor, and if anything happened to him, the peace secured by Consort Neshuda's sacrifice would crumble.
Hayate had spent his entire life focused on merging his existence with Neshuda's. Planning for a future without Neshuda was already agony; planning for a future after himself was almost unbearable. It felt like a betrayal of Neshuda's final Command to Live.
He retrieved another contingency file from Neshuda's final instructions: Contingency 12: Succession Protocol – Solo King.
The file was written with Neshuda's usual heartbreaking foresight. It detailed the necessity of training a single, trusted heir—one who could accept the kinetic burden of the throne and understand the spiritual gravity of the Vow, even if they never physically performed it.
The successor must be bound by absolute Resolve to the Eternal Rule, not to you, my King. They must understand the depth of our love, so they may protect the Code powered by your sorrow, Neshuda's digital notes read.
Hayate knew who the heir had to be: Princess Elara, the daughter of a trusted Noble House who had shown immense promise in both kinetic engineering and ethical logic. She was currently studying at the University of Applied Sciences.
The thought of training an heir—of sharing the secrets of his profound, absolute dominance and Submission with a stranger—was intensely painful. It felt like replacing Neshuda.
The First Meeting
Hayate summoned Elara to the Citadel. She was brilliant, driven, and visibly nervous standing before the legendary King who now ruled alone.
Hayate did not receive her in the formal throne room. Instead, he led her to a secluded observation deck overlooking the Core Chamber—the place of Neshuda's sacrifice.
"Princess Elara," Hayate began, his voice flat with official gravity. "You have been selected to be the sole heir to the Eternal Rule. Your training begins now. It requires absolute loyalty, absolute secrecy, and absolute physical and spiritual dedication."
Elara, overwhelmed, immediately knelt. "My King, my loyalty is absolute. I will dedicate my life to Aeterna."
Hayate looked at her, searching for the core of selfless devotion Neshuda possessed. He needed to test her understanding of commitment.
"This rule is not based on logic, Elara. It is based on sacrifice," Hayate stated, his voice heavy with sorrow. "The peace you see is powered by the ultimate act of Submission given by Consort Neshuda. You must learn to revere that sacrifice above all else."
He then showed her the Core's secret, internal energy readings—the chaotic signature of the sealed Cosmic Curse and the perfect, steady kinetic flow of his own sorrow-fueled power.
Elara, the scientist, stared at the illogical readings, witnessing the impossible truth: the world was run by a dead man's love and the King's active grief. The reality of the Eternal Rule shattered her logical preconceptions.
The Lonely Duty
The stress of public rule, political defense, and now the immense emotional strain of training an heir pushed Hayate to the brink. The kinetic stability of the Core, which he maintained through his Vow ritual, was starting to flag.
He knew he couldn't face the emotional drain of the day without reinforcing his power. He needed the raw kinetic output only his solitary ritual could provide.
That night, he entered the sanctuary, utterly desolate. He went to the Vow platform and initiated the self-dominance ritual.
This time, the grief was so deep, he didn't even need the shawl. He closed his eyes and vividly forced his mind to recreate Neshuda's physical presence, Neshuda's absolute, joyous Submission under his command. He drove the physical act fiercely, pushing the agony of the memory into pure kinetic force.
He was actively trying to force a spiritual union with the ghost of the man he loved. The intense physical ecstasy became a blurring of memory and reality. He felt the phantom weight of Neshuda's body, the phantom touch of his hands, the phantom sound of Neshuda's final, desperate cry of love.
He channeled the overwhelming pain of the loss—the raw, absolute sorrow of his solitary existence—into a perfect spike of energy. The Core hummed, stabilized instantly.
Hayate lay spent, tears streaming down his face, the intense physical release doing nothing to ease the spiritual emptiness. The energy generated was pure, distilled heartbreak.
"I can't train her, Neshuda," he choked out to the empty room. "I can't tell her our secrets. It hurts too much."
But the voice of the Core—the logic of Neshuda's Code—was unyielding. You must. It is my final command.
Hayate stood, renewed only by the necessity of his pain. He would train the heir, and he would begin by showing her the profound sorrow that was the source of all peace.