Fallen General's Omega (BL)
Chapter 77: Faded rage

Chapter 77: Faded rage

My master stands suddenly, his shimmering eyes brimming with unshed tears. He moves with a silent urgency, and before I can react, he’s at the door. Without hesitation, I follow, my body moving automatically as it always does in his presence.

The click of his shoes echoes down the stairs as we descend swiftly. There’s something pressing in the air—thick and suffocating, like the moments before a storm hits. As we reach the bottom, the source of that suffocating presence becomes clear.

The crimson general.

The air around him is heavy with violence. He stands there, fists clenched at his sides, his clothing spattered with blood, the dark crimson stark against his skin and uniform. His face is streaked with it too, though Thorne rarely gets his hands dirty. When he strikes, it’s usually clean and controlled, often with the force of his mind, using weapons against their own masters rather than his fists. But not today. Today, the blood is tangible, real, soaking into his skin, evidence of something personal.

My breath catches as I take in the scene. Thorne’s eyes are dark, empty yet burning with a rage I haven’t seen in years. His aura is so terrifying, so thick with menace, that even standing near him feels dangerous—like the slightest touch could set him off again. It’s rare to see him like this. He’s usually calm, terrifying in his cold calculation. But now, he’s raw, untethered, the monster I remember from years past, unleashed.

And yet, despite all this, Noelle—my master—moves toward him without fear.

There is no hesitation in Noelle’s steps. The tension in the air doesn’t seem to touch him, as if the storm swirling around Thorne is a mere breeze in his eyes. He crosses the distance between them swiftly, his delicate hands reaching up to cup Thorne’s bloodied face.

Thorne’s eyes snap to him, wild and dangerous, but Noelle doesn’t flinch. Instead, he pulls Thorne down, guiding his head into the crook of his neck, wrapping him in a tender embrace. Thorne’s body tenses for just a moment, a beast on the edge of breaking, before something in him shifts. Noelle strokes his blood-matted hair, his voice low and soft, and the wildness in Thorne’s gaze flickers, then fades.

Thorne’s lips curve into a small, almost peaceful smile—something that shouldn’t exist on the blood-smeared face of a man who had just been hell-bent on destruction.

*

I sink deeper into the tub, the warm water lapping gently at my skin, my eyes closed as Noelle’s skilled fingers glide through my hair. His touch is gentle, each stroke deliberate and soothing. I can feel the tension slowly unraveling from my muscles, the fury from earlier finally ebbing away, leaving only a calm, quiet void in its place.

"Much better," Noelle murmurs, his voice soft but ever so knowing. "Your pheromones were going out of control."

I hum in response, too relaxed to form words just yet. The heat of the bath and the rhythm of his touch is enough to lull me into a rare state of tranquility. Here, with him, there’s no need for masks, no need for control. Just peace.

"I was angry, my beloved," I say after a long stretch of silence, my voice coming out rougher than I intended.

Noelle’s fingers pause for a fraction of a second before he speaks, his tone thoughtful but tinged with sadness. "A few hours later, with some perspective, I realize I may have overreacted a little bit. I didn’t mean to worry you like that."

He says it softly, but I can hear the weight behind his words, the unspoken burden he carries.

"No, no, my beloved star." I open my eyes and look up at him, my voice firm but gentle. "They’ve been getting on my nerves for far too long. It was bound to happen sooner or later. They just... they crossed a line when they got to you."

I close my eyes again, but this time, it’s not out of relaxation. The memory of Sevian’s smug face, the way he had dared to even speak to Noelle, resurfaces like a flash of fire in my chest. My hands clench beneath the water, but I force myself to release the tension. It’s done. Over. I handled it.

"I know I shouldn’t have let them get to me," Noelle says quietly, his voice laced with something... vulnerable. "But I know you, Thorne. It’s just, I don’t know... I’ve grown up here, I understand how these things work, but when they spoke to me, it planted a little seed of doubt. A small nub of fear."

He pauses, and I open my eyes to look up at him. His face is beautiful as always, but his eyes... they’re full of worry, of something deeper than just the events of today.

"I panicked," he admits softly, his fingers brushing gently along my temple. "You’re everything to me, Thorne. I couldn’t bear the thought of sharing you or losing your affection. You are my world."

His words strike me harder than any blow ever could. The vulnerability in his voice, the quiet fear, it breaks something inside me. Noelle, the one person who’s always been so unwavering, so sure, doubting my love for him... It’s unbearable.

I stand up abruptly, water cascading off me, but I don’t care. My eyes lock onto his as I step out of the tub, my wet hand finding his cheek. His skin is warm beneath my palm, and I force him to meet my gaze.

"Noelle," I whisper, my voice rough with emotion, "my star, my beloved, you own my soul. You are my everything. Please, please don’t ever doubt that."

I hold his face in my hands, desperate for him to see the truth in my eyes. I’d tear the world apart for him. I’d burn kingdoms to the ground if it meant keeping him safe.

"You’re everything to me," I say again, my voice raw, begging him to understand, to believe me.

His eyes close, and he leans his face into my palm, as if my touch alone can soothe his fears. The silence stretches between us, thick with the unspoken promises, the weight of our shared history.

"I’m sorry," I whisper, my thumb brushing against his cheek. "I failed you today. I let my anger control me. But never, never doubt how much I love you. You’re my world, my star."

His lips part, but he says nothing, just rests against me.