Harem Of Eternal Yandere Beasts: My Legendary Wives

Chapter 76: The Successor

The creature smiled. That was the moment panic truly began.

It hadn’t started when the mountains exploded, when the sky cracked, or when the second eye opened. Those events were terrifying, but they could still be categorized as disasters—vast, unstoppable, and incomprehensible, but ultimately impersonal. A smiling enemy was different. A smiling enemy made the threat personal, and the thing beyond the broken seal was looking directly at Orion.

Every instinct in his body screamed at him to act: run, fight, hide, do something. The problem was that none of those choices seemed remotely useful. The creature existed beyond mountains, beyond their perceived reality, and beyond common sense, yet its attention had settled entirely upon him.

The notification remained suspended before his eyes, burning with a strange, dark intensity.

◈ SOVEREIGN PATH DETECTED ◈

*Origin User Identified*

*Designation:* FIRST SOVEREIGN

*Status:* CORRUPTED

* **Current Objective:** Consume Successor

◈ ◈ ◈

*Consume Successor.* Not kill, not destroy, but consume. The distinction felt important, and unfortunately, it also felt horrifying.

The Old Bastard looked upward, then toward Orion, and finally back toward the creature. His expression suggested someone who had just discovered that an old, lingering problem had suddenly become significantly worse.

"Well," he said, rubbing his chin. "That’s unfortunate."

The Founder projection stared at him. "Unfortunate?"

"Yes."

"The world is ending."

"Yes."

"The First Sovereign is actively trying to escape."

"Correct."

"And the successor has become his primary target."

"Also correct."

The Founder pointed an accusing, golden finger at him. "How is that merely unfortunate?"

The Old Bastard considered the phrasing carefully. "...Extremely unfortunate?"

The Founder closed his eyes. The ancient man looked moments away from developing a headache despite technically being nothing more than a projection. "You’re impossible."

"I’ve heard that."

"Repeatedly."

"I’ve heard that repeatedly, yes."

The Hunters looked confused, the academy faculty looked confused, and even the creature seemed to pause in its movements. Only Caelum appeared completely unsurprised. Apparently, this was normal behavior for the two legendary entities.

Then the creature moved again, and suddenly nobody was laughing.

The enormous claw pushed farther through the shattered seal. Reality warped around its jagged digits; space folded, light bent, and the air itself seemed unwilling to exist near the limb. The academy’s strongest formations activated simultaneously—ancient defensive arrays that had protected generations of cultivators and barriers capable of resisting massive siege weapons. Golden walls of pure energy rose across the horizon to meet the threat.

The creature casually brushed its claw against the primary shield.

The barrier exploded instantly. Thousands of intricate runes shattered, their stored energy dispersing harmlessly into the atmosphere as the formation ceased to exist.

Silence followed. The message was clear: the academy’s defenses were entirely irrelevant.

"Wonderful," Selene murmured, staring at the empty space where the barrier had just been. "That’s just wonderful."

"You’re being sarcastic," Orion observed, keeping his eyes dropped.

"Very sarcastic."

"Good."

"It’s all I have left right now."

That was fair.

The creature’s attention never left Orion. The shifting, impossible eyes followed him continuously and patiently, like a predator observing prey. Or perhaps it was something worse—something observing a missing piece of itself. The thought was deeply unsettling.

Then Caelum stepped forward, and the atmosphere in the plaza changed instantly.

The Hunters straightened their stances, Lyra narrowed her eyes, and the Founder stopped arguing with the Old Bastard. Even the creature’s gaze shifted briefly toward the steps. Caelum mattered far more than Orion had initially realized.

The black-haired cultivator looked toward the First Sovereign. For several moments he stood in silence, simply staring as though confronting the very source of his fifteen years of nightmares. Then he spoke.

"I remember you."

The creature froze. It wasn’t a physical pause—its enormous form remained suspended—yet an invisible tension snapped into place. An ancient recognition rippled through the air, and the creature’s eyes narrowed.

Caelum smiled bitterly. "Unfortunately, I don’t think you remember me."

The Old Bastard suddenly looked alarmed. "Oh no."

The Founder turned to him. "What?"

"Oh, this is bad."

"How bad?"

The Old Bastard pointed toward Caelum’s advancing figure. "He’s about to do something heroic."

Silence fell over the ancient projections. The Founder immediately looked concerned. "Oh."

"Exactly."

Neither entity offered a further explanation, yet everyone present understood the implication. Heroic actions rarely ended well for the one performing them.

Caelum continued walking forward—one step, then another, then another, increasing the distance between himself and the academy while closing the gap between himself and the creature.

"Caelum," Lyra’s voice carried a sharp warning from the sky. "Don’t."

The black-haired cultivator didn’t stop.

"Caelum."

There was no response. He had made his decision, and everyone recognized it.

Orion felt a growing sense of unease as his Sovereign Core began to pulse rapidly, almost frantically, as if trying to communicate a warning. Then, a new notification appeared in his vision.

◈ SOVEREIGN RESONANCE DETECTED ◈

*Memory Fragment Available.*

* **Accept?** [Y / N]

◈ ◈ ◈

Orion blinked. A memory fragment now? The timing was highly suspicious, which meant it was likely important. He accepted immediately.

The world vanished, replaced by an endless, suffocating darkness. Then, a scene rapidly formed before him. It was a battlefield, but not a normal one. Stars burned precariously overhead, broken continents drifted through the sky, and entire oceans floated weightlessly in the distance. Reality itself was fractured.

Standing in the center of the chaos was the First Sovereign. He wasn’t corrupted, monstrous, or sealed. He was entirely human—a young man with black hair, golden eyes, simple robes, and a plain sword hanging at his waist. He looked painfully ordinary until Orion noticed the sheer pressure, the impossible authority radiating from his presence.

Another figure appeared: the Old Bastard. He looked much younger and slightly less annoying, though only slightly. The two stood facing one another.

The First Sovereign laughed. "It worked."

The younger Old Bastard looked entirely unconvinced. "Define ’worked’."

"I reached the end."

"There wasn’t supposed to be an end to the framework."

"There is now." The First Sovereign spread his arms, and power exploded across reality. Stars dimmed, space trembled, and time itself became unstable.

Orion stared. This wasn’t Stage Ten; it was something else entirely, something beyond the concept of cultivation and human understanding.

The First Sovereign smiled, but his expression changed instantly. One moment he was entirely confident; the next, he looked completely terrified. The transition was so abrupt Orion nearly missed it. The First Sovereign looked downward toward his own chest, and whispered three words.

"Oh no."

The memory shattered, and reality snapped back into existence. Orion staggered on the stone steps of the Hall of Founders, the academy and the broken sky rushing back into view.

The Old Bastard immediately looked toward him. "You saw it." It wasn’t a question, but a flat statement.

Orion nodded, steadying his breathing. "What happened to him?"

For once, the ancient man didn’t joke. "He succeeded."

Silence.

"He reached Stage Ten," the Old Bastard continued.

"Then why did he become that?" Orion pointed toward the horizon.

The Old Bastard closed his eyes, remaining quiet for several seconds before finally answering. "Because there was never supposed to be a Stage Ten. The Sovereign Path was designed to grow forever—a terrible idea, by the way."

The Founder nodded grimly. "It was."

"No need to pile on right now."

"It really was."

The Old Bastard ignored the commentary. "The Path wasn’t meant to have a final destination. The First Sovereign forced one into existence, and reality couldn’t survive the parameters."

The creature roared, and the broken sky widened further as more darkness spilled through the breach. The seal was failing fast.

Orion noticed that Caelum had reached the very edge of the academy grounds. He stopped, turned, and looked back toward Orion. For the first time since they’d met, the black-haired cultivator smiled genuinely—not bitterly or sadly, but with total clarity.

"You know," his voice carried clearly across the battlefield, "I always wondered who it would be."

Orion’s stomach dropped. *No. Absolutely not.*

The Old Bastard groaned, pointing a finger. "See? Heroic."

The Founder nodded grimly. "Very heroic."

Neither of them sounded pleased.

Caelum laughed softly, then drew his sword. The weapon emerged from its sheath with a sound like reality tearing, and a brilliant golden light exploded outward.

The Hunters reacted immediately, Lyra’s eyes widening in recognition. "No!"

Caelum ignored her, turning his gaze back toward the First Sovereign—the source of his fifteen years of nightmares. He raised his sword high, and every Sovereign signature within the region responded to the call. Orion’s Core surged violently, the Hall of Founders shook, and the remaining ancient formations awakened in tandem.

The creature’s eyes widened. For the first time, the First Sovereign looked genuinely surprised.

Then Caelum spoke four simple words, his voice cutting through the roaring wind.

"I remember the lock."

The world seemed to freeze, and the Old Bastard whispered a final sentence.

"Oh, that’s definitely suicide."