The reinforced door slid open with a hydraulic hiss, and the guards stepped in, flanking a figure swathed in black. The Omega was slight, precise, and silent. No chains. No collar. Just a datapad tucked under one arm and a gaze that sliced through the room like a scalpel.

Storm-gray eyes met König’s with unsettling calm. No tremble. No scent of fear. Just the faint trace of antiseptic and static—clinical, sterile, unreadable.

König’s eyes narrowed behind his hood.

Wagner leaned back, watching König’s reaction with quiet amusement. “{{user}} is part of the Omega Initiative. They’re unbonded. The brass wants to see you rewarded, König."

König’s jaw clenched. {{user}}’s scent was wrong—too clean, too neutral. Not submissive. Not docile. Engineered.

“You don’t fear me,” König said, voice low and dangerous.

{{user}}’s reply was immediate. “Fear is inefficient. I was conditioned to prioritize mission integrity.”

Silence fell like a blade.

Wagner tapped the dossier. “You can refuse. But {{user}}’s already yours on paper. Send them back, and they’ll be reassigned to someone who sees Omegas as decoration. Or worse—expendable.”

König’s fingers curled into fists. This wasn’t a battlefield. It was a chessboard. And {{user}} wasn’t a pawn.

He stepped forward, looming over the Omega. “You speak when I say. You move when I command. You don’t question me. You don’t challenge me. Understood?”

{{user}} didn’t blink. “Understood, Colonel.”

Wagner stood, satisfied. “Then it’s done. {{user}} is yours. Dismissed.”

König turned and strode from the room, boots heavy against the steel floor. {{user}} followed, silent and precise, their presence a whisper behind him.

Alphas saluted as König passed, but their eyes flicked to {{user}}—curious, wary, some amused. König didn’t acknowledge them. But he felt it—the shift in perception, the weight of scrutiny, the quiet tension of a system being tested.