For a moment, there was only the sound of Valeria's armored breastplate resting on the obsidian, a solitary clatter in the vast silence. Then, a single voice from the crowd—a man's, rough with disuse—cried out. "The king! He has done it!"
It was a spark in a powder keg.
A wave of sound erupted from the plaza, a deafening roar of hope and awe that washed over Shin, making him stagger. People who had been cowering in fear now surged forward, their faces alight with a desperate, fervent joy. They were cheering for him. Their tears of relief were for him. He had done it. He had tamed their unbreakable champion.
But Shin wasn't looking at the crowd. He was looking down at the woman kneeling at his feet.
Valeria slowly lowered her head, pressing her forehead to the cold obsidian stone in a gesture of absolute, total submission. Her voice, when it came, was muffled by the ground but clear as a bell in the sudden lull of the crowd's cheers.
"Forgive me, my King," she said, her voice devoid of all emotion, a statement of absolute fact. "This humble servant was blind to your power. I was a fool to doubt you."
Shin stared, his mind a complete blank. The roaring inferno of divine will that had possessed him moments ago had vanished, replaced by an icy dread. This was wrong. This wasn't victory; it was... humiliation.
Valeria continued, her words twisting the knife of his guilt. "I have failed you. I am yours to command. You are free to punish me as you see fit. My life is yours." She paused, and then added the final, devastating blow.
"My body is yours. My womb is yours. Impregnate me if you wish, so that my line may serve yours for eternity."
The world stopped.
The roaring crowd faded into a distant hum. All Shin could hear was the frantic, panicked pounding of his own heart. A wave of crimson washed over his face, a heat so intense it felt like his skin was on fire. He hadn't wanted this. He hadn't wanted to break her. He just wanted them to see him.
"What are you doing?!" he yelled, his voice cracking with panic. He stumbled back, snatching his hand away as if he'd been burned. The image of her, prostrated and offering herself to him like a broodmare, was a nightmare made real.
He looked wildly at the stunned faces in the crowd, then back at Valeria, who remained frozen in her position of submission.
"Stop it! Get up!" he shouted, his voice trembling. "That's not what I meant! That's not what any of this was about!"
The crowd fell silent again, their joy turning to confusion. Their powerful king now sounded like a frightened boy. The Rite, the sacred tradition, was falling apart into a farce of mortal embarrassment.
A smooth, calm voice cut through the tension. Luna ascended the stage, her presence instantly restoring a semblance of order. She placed a gentle hand on Shin's arm, her touch a grounding force.
"Our king is merciful," she announced, her voice ringing with authority for all to hear. She looked down at Valeria, her gaze firm but not unkind. "Rise, Valeria Onheil. Your king has accepted your submission. He does not desire your punishment, but your loyalty. Your oath is enough."
Valeria slowly lifted her head, her stormy eyes filled with a turmoil of confusion, shame, and a flicker of something else—relief? She looked from Luna's serene face to Shin's panicked, flushed one. The dynamic had shattered completely.
Luna turned to the crowd, her smile a masterful display of diplomacy. "Rejoice, people of Astera! You have a king who is not only powerful, but kind! A king who does not rule through fear, but through strength and mercy! The Rite is complete! The shadows will flee before him!"
Another, more hesitant cheer rose from the crowd, but Shin barely heard it. He felt Luna gently guiding him away from the center of the stage, his legs feeling like jelly. He had claimed his throne, but in doing so, he had made a complete and utter fool of himself.
As he was led away, he risked one last glance back. Valeria was still on her knees, but now she was watching him go, her expression unreadable. He had won the battle, but he had a terrible, sinking feeling that he had just lost the war for her respect.
The walk through the silent castle was a journey through a tomb. The grand hallways, lined with tapestries depicting heroic battles and serene landscapes, felt oppressive in their stillness. Every step Shin took echoed, a lonely sound in the vast emptiness. The divine aura that had possessed him in the plaza had receded completely, leaving him feeling hollowed out and painfully ordinary. He was just a man in a strange suit, walking between a goddess and a warrior who now hated him.
Valeria walked a few paces ahead, her back ramrod straight, her hand resting on the hilt of her sword as if it were the only thing grounding her. She hadn't said a word since the plaza, and she refused to look at him. The rigid set of her shoulders was a wall of shame and fury, and Shin felt a fresh wave of guilt with every step.
Finally, they reached a pair of towering doors, carved from the same dark wood as the city gates, but inlaid with silver that seemed to shimmer with an inner light. They swung open silently, revealing the throne room.
It was breathtaking. The ceiling was a vaulted dome painted with a moving mural of the cosmos—the same two moons and nebulae he had seen in the sky. But the centerpiece was the throne. It was carved from a single, massive piece of obsidian, polished to a mirror sheen, yet it seemed to absorb the light of the room, making it a void of absolute power. It wasn't just a chair; it was a monument.
Valeria stopped a few feet from the dais, her movements sharp and precise. She turned, her eyes fixed on a point just over Shin's shoulder.
"My Queen, My King," she said, her voice a tightly controlled, neutral tone. "The throne room is secure. With your permission, I wish to return to my post at the western wall. The shadows grow stronger at dusk."
Luna gave a regal nod. "Granted, Captain. Your diligence is noted, as always."
Valeria gave a short, stiff bow. Then, without another word, she turned on her heel and marched out of the room, her footsteps retreating into the castle's oppressive silence, leaving Shin alone with his wife and the terrifyingly empty throne.
Luna turned to him, her expression softening. "She will come around, my love. Pride is a heavy armor, but it can be reshaped."
Shin barely heard her. He was staring at the throne, his heart pounding. "I can't," he whispered. "Luna, I can't sit there. It's a lie."
"It is not a lie," she said, taking his hand. Her touch was warm, grounding. "It is your destiny. Now, sit."
She gently guided him up the three steps onto the dais. He stood before the throne, feeling like an ant before a mountain. He looked at Luna, his eyes pleading.
"Is it okay..." he started, his voice small and trembling. He looked from the throne back to her, the full weight of his inadequacy crashing down on him. He wasn't a hero. He wasn't a conqueror. He was a man who got lucky, a man who was kind when he had nothing left.
"Is it okay if I become a king who... is weak?"
The question hung in the air, a fragile, desperate thing. He expected her to be disappointed. He expected her to tell him that a king must be strong, that he must embrace the power she had given him.
Instead, a slow, beautiful smile spread across Luna's face. It was a look of pure, unadulterated love and pride. She reached up and cupped his cheek, her thumb gently stroking his skin.
"Oh, my darling Shin," she whispered, her voice filled with an emotion that sounded suspiciously like awe. "That is the only kind of king you can be."
She looked into his confused eyes and explained. "Strength that breaks its own people is not strength at all; it is tyranny. The world is full of tyrants, Shin. It is not lacking them. What it lacks is a king who is strong enough to be weak. A king who is strong enough to be kind. A king who is strong enough to feel guilt. Your 'weakness' is the very source of your power. It is the light that will push back the shadows."
She gently pressed on his shoulder. "Now, sit. Your people are waiting for their kind king to take his rightful place."
Hesitantly, as if the seat might burn him, Shin Nakamura, the boy who lost everything, sat upon the throne of Astera. And as he did, a soft, golden light began to emanate from the obsidian, enveloping him in its warm, gentle glow.