Empires rise with ambition…But they last through legacy.
Arthur Ashford had conquered the world — wealth, politics, technology, war, and hearts. But he knew empires did not die from conquest.They died from within.From weak heirs. From diluted bloodlines.From ambitionless descendants.
He wouldn't let that happen.
The Spell of Eternity
Inside the Sanctum Imperialis, a hidden chamber beneath his ancestral estate in England, Arthur stood before a circular obsidian altar etched with runes older than kings.
Each of the 15 Empresses stood in silence, dressed in ceremonial silks, representing the domains they ruled.
At the center lay the Legacy Codex, a book bound in dragonhide, written by the last true empire-builder — a sorcerer-king whose dynasty vanished with him.
Arthur had found the tome through Eva's data raids and Yesenia's cult relics. And he'd deciphered the ritual with Luna's biogenetics, Carmen's languages, and Aurora's royal magic.
The spell required three things:
The blood of a ruler (Arthur)
The essence of dominion (all Empresses present)
The womb of conquest (the woman who secured the world's underworld for Arthur — Nora)
One Son to Rule Them All
"From this day forth, no matter how many daughters are born, each generation shall bear only one male heir from the blood of Arthur Ashford."
"All daughters shall be born with the divine instinct to serve and guide the heir until the day they marry him — preserving the bloodline and the power, generation after generation."
"All men who serve the daughters… shall be rendered incapable of fathering — their loyalty assured."
This was Legacy Protocol.
A decree carved into reality itself.
System Update: Legacy Protocol Activated→ Male inheritance limited to one direct heir per generation→ All daughters born shall be system-linked to preserve dominion and guide the heir→ Male servants converted to non-reproductive custodians
🔒 This law is irreversible.
The Chosen Mother
Nora stepped forward.
Clad in a ceremonial kimono patterned with black dragons and blood-red flames, she walked barefoot to the obsidian altar.
Arthur met her at the center, and together, under the watchful eyes of the 14 Empresses, their hands joined over the sigil of kingship.
"Do you, Guardian of the Shadows," Arthur said, "accept the burden of birthing the Empire's future?"
Nora didn't blink.
"I'll birth more than your heir," she whispered. "I'll birth your legacy."
And with that, the spell burned into her skin — a glowing tattoo forming over her navel, marking her as the Womb of the Empire.
The Ritual Night
That night, the chamber became a temple.
While the spell sealed their fates, Arthur and Nora bonded — physically, spiritually, and cosmically. It wasn't just pleasure. It was convergence. Power infused into flesh.
Each Empress took part in the ritual by offering a symbol of her dominion, binding their futures to the child soon to be born.
The Heir would not just be a child of blood.He would be born from empire itself.
Nine Months Later…
Under a crimson moon, Nora gave birth to a boy.
He didn't cry. He looked — stared directly into Arthur's eyes with awareness no infant should have.
Carmen whispered, "He's awake."
Yesenia whispered, "He's chosen."
Vivian stepped forward and said, "He is the crown. From the moment he breathed."
Arthur cradled his son.
No name yet.
Because names were for men.
And this child…
Was born to be legend.