Okay, so, the scent of blood and like, ionized metal? That was General Kairen Aethel's last pure memory. Weird, right? But it tasted like freedom. He was standing in the Zenith Tower, all sterile and silent, but his mind was just looping the Obsidian Gate. Again and again. The metallic tang, the electric crackle so different from the air around him now, which was just…dead. It was like, every step he took in that tower was a reminder of the battles he'd fought and the chains he was stuck with now. Ugh.
The Obsidian Gate: The Price of Order
Two months ago, Kairen was on the Obsidian Gate's ramparts. The sun was glinting off everyone's armor, and the wind? It was carrying screams and this totally gross chemical smell. Down below, Alpha rebels were writhing in a chemically induced frenzy. Like, their bodies were being controlled by engineered rage. The air was thick and heavy, and you could practically taste the pheromonal warfare. It was like the whole battlefield was pulsing with aggression, a wave that just broke people's brains and turned them into monsters.
He remembered Lyra Vex, standing super rigid, her face all grim as she read out the casualty reports. She was always so steady, like a rock in the middle of a storm. He missed her now, way more than he wanted to admit. It was kinda pathetic, tbh.
Kairen, a Primarch of the Aethel line state-born, militarily forged stood there, totally exposed. He unsealed his collar, which was a huge no-no, and just breathed in the chaos. The raw aggression was, like, intoxicating. A dangerous thrill that shot through him, lighting up every nerve.
His power wasn't about being strong it was about control. Primarch Nullification, which he'd been training since he was a kid, rose in this precise, invisible wave. It targeted the chemical markers of the Alpha rage and just erased them. Not magic, just, you know, science-y stuff. Super valuable. Super feared.
Then, silence. The rebels had been screaming and raging, but now they were just…frozen. Their minds were reeling, and they still wanted to fight, but they couldn't. Their faces were like masks, all confused, bodies tense, eyes totally vacant. Like they'd been betrayed by the world.
"Target stability achieved," Kairen muttered into his comm, his voice trying to be steady. "Advance the line."
Victory didn't come with bullets, but with his breath. People cheered, calling him the "Gate-Anchor," the only one who could calm the crazy. But the applause felt empty. He'd traded his freedom for their thanks. And every cheer reminded him of the people who'd died, their faces burned into his memory. It was a heavy burden, heavier than any armor.
And underneath it all, he knew he'd won all these battles, but he'd lost the one that mattered control of his own life. So lame.
The Obsidian Spire: The Contract's Chains
Now, the General was standing in the Zenith Tower, which was basically Lord Zyrus Vahn's kingdom. The air tasted like money and steel, and there was zero freedom. Silence was everywhere, broken only by the hum of the AC. He wasn't anchored to a battle line anymore; he was chained to a platinum cuff with Vahn's symbol on it, a coiled serpent. Clause 5: Pheromonal Disclosure. A leash, disguised as jewelry, tracking his every move.
"Remove your coat, General," the Enigma said, his voice calm but sharp.
Lord Zyrus Vahn, the richest guy in the world, never shouted. He just had this presence, this chilling serenity that was way scarier than any Alpha rage. Indifference. Absolute power in the form of stillness.
Kairen's jaw tightened. His uniform, which he'd bled in, felt like a stupid souvenir. He folded it up all neat, revealing the silk vest underneath: Enigma charcoal, so not his style. A symbol of surrender, and of everything he'd had to give up.
"The marriage contract requires constant acceptance, Kairen," Zyrus Vahn said, turning with this slow, deliberate motion. His eyes were dark, but he wasn't angry. Just calculating. "You are the Primarch Asset; titles are accessories."
Asset. The word cut deep. " Shu I Understood, Husband. My function is clear." The words tasted like ash.
"Good." Lord Vahn lifted this ornate collar, made of platinum. It looked delicate, but it was heavy with power. A diamond clasp gleamed at the center. Clause 7: The Public Display Clause. Ownership, marked for everyone to see.
"You will wear this for tonight's reception," the Enigma said, all smooth and imperious. "Visually confirm your subordination. Remove your shirt, General. The display must be absolute."
Kairen's instincts flared up he wanted to fight back, to just shatter everything. But he'd been trained too well. He was Kairen Aethel, the Gate-Anchor. He wouldn't lose control, not yet.
He unbuttoned the vest, his fingers shaking a little. The fabric slid off, showing his shoulders and chest, which were, like, totally ripped. But the Enigma didn't even blink. Lord Vahn reached out and put the collar on him, his touch cold and impersonal.
The metal snapped shut. The lock clicked, a sound that echoed through the room. Kairen Aethel was now the Enigma's Bottom. Retire, submit, conceive—the hardest thing he'd ever had to do. A war fought with rules, contracts, and silence.
He met Zyrus's gaze, and there was this flicker of defiance in his eyes. This wasn't the end. It was just a new kind of battle. And Kairen Aethel wasn't going down without a fight.
The collar chafed against his skin, a constant reminder of what he'd lost. He thought of Lyra Vex, standing at the Obsidian Gate, ready to break any chain. He took a breath, trying to stay calm, feeling the Enigma's pheromones pressing against him. Calculated patience. He could endure this. He could bend the rules. He could take back his power.
He had a plan, and it was starting to take shape in his mind. Even in a gilded cage, even with chains of gold and iron, he could find freedom. It would be slow and painful, but he'd do it. And when he did, everyone would remember that the Gate-Anchor could never be truly controlled.