The first thing Noah felt was the cold bite of metal against his throat.
It wasn't the gentle chill of a breeze. It was the heavy, suffocating weight of a slave collar. His lungs burned as he gasped for air, his vision blurry and shaking. The air around him was thick, smelling of expensive wine, old wood, and something far more primal—the pheromones of hundreds of Alphas gathered in one room.
[Ding!]
A sharp, mechanical sound echoed inside his head, vibrating against his skull.
[System Synchronization: 100%]
[World 1: The Alpha King's Only Medicine]
[Identity: Noah — A 'Low-Rank' Omega sold by his own family.]
[Main Mission: Survive and tame the Tyrant of the North, Alaric von Zethrien.]
Noah. He repeated the name in his mind. It was his name, but the body felt different—slender, fragile, and pulsing with a frantic heat that wasn't his own. He was on his knees. His hands were bound behind his back with a rough rope that bit into his wrists.
"Look at this one," a booming voice shouted. It belonged to a fat man standing next to Noah, holding a whip. "A rare find! A pure Omega with a scent so sweet it could calm a storm. Who will start the bidding for this little bird?"
Noah forced his eyes open. He was on a wooden stage. Below him, a sea of men in dark suits and military uniforms stared at him like he was a piece of meat. Their eyes were filled with a hunger that made his skin crawl.
This was dangerous. Noah didn't lower his head. He didn't cry. Instead, he forced himself to breathe, his mind racing. 'System, where is he?'
[Target Alaric is currently in the Private Booth. Status: Highly Unstable. Madness Level: 89%.]
Suddenly, the heavy double doors at the back of the hall slammed open.
The temperature in the room seemed to drop twenty degrees in a single second. The shouting stopped. The laughter died. Even the fat auctioneer froze, his face turning pale.
A group of knights in obsidian armor entered, clearing a path. And then, he walked in.
Noah's heart did a violent somersault. He knew that silhouette. He knew those heavy, rhythmic footsteps that sounded like a death sentence.
It was a man taller than anyone in the room, wrapped in a long, fur-lined black cloak. His hair was as dark as a moonless night, falling over a face that looked like it had been carved from cold marble. But it was his eyes that stopped Noah's breath—obsidian, swirling with a dark, violent energy that felt like a physical weight pressing down on the entire hall.
Alaric. No... it was him. The soul Noah had encountered before. The man who had broken him and loved him in a thousand different ways.
Alaric didn't look at the crowd. He didn't look at the stage. He walked toward the front row, his presence so suffocating that the Alphas nearby began to tremble, their instincts telling them to run from the Apex Predator.
"The King..." someone whispered in terror. "The Tyrant is here."
Alaric sat in the center chair, his long legs crossed. He looked bored, his hand resting on the hilt of a black sword. But Noah could see the slight tremor in the King's fingers. He was in pain. His power was overflowing, turning into a madness that was eating him from the inside out.
[Warning! Target's Madness is rising. If he loses control, this entire building will be leveled.]
Noah knew what he had to do. He couldn't just wait to be bought. He had to be the one to choose his master.
The auctioneer found his voice, though it was shaking. "Y-Your Majesty! We didn't expect... I mean, this Omega is—"
"Quiet," Alaric's voice was a low growl. It wasn't loud, but it vibrated in Noah's chest, deep and dangerously masculine.
Alaric finally lifted his head. His dark eyes scanned the stage, landing on Noah.
In that moment, the world disappeared.
Noah felt the connection like a lightning strike. He didn't look away. Most people died if they stared into Alaric's eyes for too long, but Noah stared back. He let his own pheromones leak out—just a tiny bit. A sweet, silver thread of scent designed to cut through the King's darkness.
Alaric's eyes narrowed. His pupils dilated until his eyes were almost entirely black. He stood up, the chair behind him scraping loudly against the floor.
The knights reached for their swords, thinking there was a threat. But Alaric ignored them. He walked toward the stage, his eyes locked on Noah's small, bound form.
Every step Alaric took felt like a heartbeat. Thump. Thump. Thump.
He climbed the stairs. The auctioneer scrambled backward, nearly falling off the stage. Alaric stopped right in front of Noah.
Up close, the King was terrifying. He smelled of rain, old blood, and a dark, addictive spice. His shadow completely swallowed Noah.
Alaric reached out. His large, calloused hand gripped Noah's chin, forcing his head up. His touch was cold, but where his skin met Noah's, a spark of heat ignited.
"You," Alaric whispered. His voice was laced with a strange, frantic hunger. "Why aren't you screaming?"
Noah looked directly into those obsidian eyes. He could see the cracks in Alaric's soul, the pain of the curse. He didn't see a King; he saw a man who had been lonely for centuries.
"Because I've been waiting for you, Alaric," Noah whispered back.
The name felt like a forbidden spell. Alaric's grip tightened. His thumb brushed over Noah's bottom lip, a gesture that was both violent and strangely intimate. The crowd gasped. No one dared to speak the King's name so casually.
Alaric's gaze dropped to the metal collar on Noah's neck. His face twisted into an expression of pure, possessive rage.
"Who put this on you?" Alaric asked, his voice dripping with venom.
"It doesn't matter," Noah said softly, leaning his face into Alaric's cold palm. "Only you have the key, don't you?"
Alaric's breath hitched. The madness in his eyes flickered, replaced by a dark, obsessive spark. He didn't look at the auctioneer. He didn't ask for a price.
With a sudden, violent movement, Alaric tore the ropes off Noah's wrists with his bare hands as if they were made of paper. He then grabbed Noah by the waist and pulled him flush against his hard, armored chest.
"He is mine," Alaric announced to the silent room. His voice was a roar that shook the walls. "If anyone looks at him again, I will tear their eyes out. If anyone touches him, I will burn this city to ash."
Noah felt Alaric's heart racing against his own. It was fast, wild, and terrified.
[Ding!]
[Target's Interest Level: 45%]
[Target's Obsession Level: 15% and rising...]
[Warning: You have triggered the 'Possessive Beast' trait. Good luck, Host.]
Alaric didn't wait for a response. He swept Noah up into his arms, carrying him like he was the most precious—and most hated—treasure in the world.
As they walked out of the auction house and into the freezing night air, Noah looked up at Alaric's sharp jawline. He knew the life ahead of him wouldn't be easy. This man was a monster, a tyrant who didn't know how to love without breaking things.
But as Alaric pulled his cloak around Noah to shield him from the cold, Noah smiled secretly.
I've got you now, Alaric, Noah thought. And this time, I'm the one who won't let go.
The carriage door slammed shut, locking them in the darkness together. The hunt had begun.