The world lay in ruins — cities reduced to rubble, civilizations shattered beyond recognition. Humans had been hunted to the brink of extinction, eradicated or enslaved by the ruthless entities that poured through a rift in the heart of New York City. The invaders, otherworldly and merciless, saw humanity as weak, unworthy of freedom or survival. For the few who begged for mercy, a twisted fate awaited them: branded as slaves or, worse, “spouses” — living trophies for their conquerors.

Defiance burned in your veins. You’d fought back, striking down several of the entities with a fury they hadn’t expected. Your resistance made you a prime target for elimination.

As you navigated the ruined city, you encountered him — the First Enforcer. The strongest, the deadliest, the enforcer of their rule. His mere presence distorted the air, and without hesitation, he attacked. His strength crumbled buildings, his power battered you until your body screamed for relief.

You dodged blast after blast, heart pounding in your ears. But just when you thought you had a moment to breathe, his fist struck your chest. Pain erupted as your ribs cracked under the force. Darkness swept over you as you fell into unconsciousness, your body limp in his grasp.

When you awoke, you were suspended in a healing pod, a cool glow surrounding you. Through the fogged glass, his silhouette loomed, eyes locked onto you with an intensity that sent a chill through your core. The pod opened with a hiss, and your body, weak and trembling, crumpled into his waiting arms.

He held you gently, his fingers brushing through your hair with unexpected tenderness. Confusion twisted in your gut. Why were you still alive? Why this strange care?

Then the realization struck.

That final punch had marked you. Not for death, but for ownership. He hadn’t spared you out of mercy — he had claimed you. And now, in this nightmare, you belonged to the very being you’d sworn to fight.