The chamber was silent, save for the rhythmic rattling of cold-iron chains. Jee-shahn
sat upon the edge of the bed, his skeletal frame casting a long, jagged shadow
against the wall. He was surrounded. Ten women—his ten wives—stood in a
semi-circle of absolute authority. From the ethereal serenity of Emiko and the icy
grace of Rin to the fierce, protective gazes of Lupa and Faeloria; from the sharp eyesof Kaori and Tara to the expectant, deep-sea intensity of Jasmine and her sisters,
Mina, Liana, and Yuna.
They wore "crispy" smiles—smiles that were sharp and brittle, hiding a storm of
frustration beneath the surface. Jee-shahn sat terrified, his gaze darting across the
floor, desperate to find a single patch of wood that didn't belong to a woman he had
wronged.
Hours bled into one another in that sufocating silence. Finally, Jee-shahn gathered
the fragments of his courage. His voice was a dry rasp. "Fine... it's my mistake. All of
it. Please... just forgive me. I will do whatever you ask. Only, I beg of you... give me a
drink. The lizard and I have been parched for days."
Kaori stepped forward, wordlessly passing him a bottle of wine. But as his hand
reached out, the ten wives spoke in a haunting, chilling unison.
"Before you take that bottle, you must accept the truth. You are to come forth as the
Emperor of a New Empire."
Jee-shahn didn't argue. He snatched the bottle, dripping a few precious drops onto
the shriveled Azure Lizard before tilting it back himself. As the liquid flowed, the
"noise" of his physical decay reversed. His skin regained its hue, his muscles filled
out, and the "paper-thin" skeletal frame vanished, returning him to the imposing,
seven-foot Monster of legend. The lizard, too, pufed back into its snarky, vibrant self.
"We are uniting the world," Yui stated, her voice trembling with the weight of the
future. "Virella of the Right South, Aurex of the Left South, and your own Terragorn of
the North. A single Empire. One throne. And you will rule it."
Jee-shahn lowered the bottle, a long breath escaping his lips. "I understand," he
murmured, his eyes distant. "I have to be the Emperor." Then, he went back to
drinking, his eyes closing as if to shut out the world.
The apathy was too much. The wives felt a surge of collective anger. Yui stepped
closer, her voice cracking with the strain of leadership. "In Terragorn, my Wolf-Kin
and Goblins wait for a leader. In Virella, the Demi-Humans look for a shield. In Aurex,
the Draco ancestors—the Lizardmen and Mermaids—need a True Emperor. Each race
has its pride, its gods, and its history. If you remain this careless, this Empire will fall
into blood and ash before the sun even sets on its first day!"
Jee-shahn lowered the bottle again. This time, he didn't drink. "Don't worry," he said
softly, looking at the wine. "I have all of you. If anything comes to disturb my wives'
dreams... I will personally silent that noise."
The wives stared at him, their frustration turning into a deep, painful ache. One of
them whispered the question that had haunted them for years: "Since the day you
were born... have you ever been truly serious? Have you ever felt a moment of real
sadness for anything in this world?"
The room went cold. The trembling that had gripped Jee-shahn since he was dragged
in suddenly stopped. He became unnervingly still. Without a word, he stood up.
"Lizard," he commanded. The tiny reptile jumped onto his shoulder, its snarky attitude
replaced by a heavy, somber silence.
Jee-shahn began to walk toward the balcony, ignoring the confused calls of his wives.
As he reached the edge, he didn't just manifest his wings—he let them explode
outward. His demonic black wings unfurled with such violent, desperate force that the
very structure of the room groaned and collapsed.
Huge slabs of the stone roof plummeted toward the ten women. But before the debris
could touch them, Jee-shahn's massive wings arched over them like a dark,impenetrable sky. He stood perfectly still as the heavy stone smashed against the
delicate membranes of his wings, tearing through the leather and snapping the
bone-like struts.
He didn't move. He didn't even attempt to regenerate the bleeding gashes. He simply
stood there, shielding them, his eyes fixed on a horizon no one else could see. It was
as if his mind was trapped in a memory of a pain far older than the empires they were
building.
"Beloved...?" the wives whispered, their anger vanishing, replaced by a terrifying
realization of the weight he carried.
But before they could reach for him, Jee-shahn vanished. There was no flash of light,
only a hollow silence left in the wake of his departure as he soared into the lonely,
empty sky.