Fallen General's Omega (BL)
Chapter 105: Orgy

Chapter 105: Orgy

As the subordinate expertly guides us through the throng of people, I keep my eyes sharp for any unwanted attention. There are guards scattered throughout, but they’re nothing more than brief obstacles. Swift, silent takedowns follow each encounter, clearing our path with brutal efficiency. We press forward.

Eventually, we find ourselves in another guest room, a luxurious one—though not quite as garish as the king’s chambers. Still, it’s all too much. Too much opulence, too much wealth, too much indulgence for my taste.

Inside, I spot Count Raymond, unconscious on the bed, while Felix hovers over him, his small frame barely casting a shadow.

"You’re here," Felix says, glancing up as if this is all routine.

I grunt, heaving the king onto the bed beside the count. It’s a satisfying thud. These two deserve much worse.

Noelle approaches, his presence as calm as always, though there’s a glint in his eye that suggests mischief. He hands Felix a small bundle of incense. Without a word, Felix lights it, and soon the room is filled with a thick, crimson smoke. The scent is strong—spicy, heady. Too strong for a human, but we’re not here to stay.

"Let’s go," Noelle says, his tone sharp yet casual. "Since they like to drug people, let’s give them a taste of their own medicine." He moves towards the window, not even glancing back at the slumbering figures behind us.

I watch him go before locking the doors behind me, dragging a nearby table and chair to block any chance of escape. The wood scrapes harshly against the marble floor, a satisfying barrier. Then I follow Noelle, jumping through the window and landing softly on the ground.

As I stand outside, the thought hits me. Two alphas... under the influence of that incense? My mind flashes back to overhearing Noelle’s earlier conversation about the potency of the stuff. This isn’t just any ordinary aphrodisiac. It’s the kind used to induce livestock into breeding—horses, cattle, the works. And here we’ve got the king, a decrepit old man of seventy, and Count Raymond, not much better off in his fifties, about to be thrown into the thick of it.

I suppress a shudder, a sick mix of amusement and revulsion rising in my chest. Two rutted-out alphas locked in a room together... I can’t even imagine the scene that’ll unfold. It’s diabolical. Twisted. Pure, unfiltered chaos.

I love it.

Still, I can’t help the involuntary cringe that follows. My mind tries to conjure up an image of what’s happening in that room right now, and I immediately regret it. Argh. Seventy and fifty—hell, that’s a nightmare in itself.

I shake my head, willing the thoughts away. We’ve done what we needed to do, and now we leave them to their... unfortunate predicament.

*

The Crown Prince stormed down the corridor, his golden eyes blazing with fury. "What the fuck is going on?!" His voice echoed throughout the palace, rough with anger and confusion. The smell of smoke filled the air, and the thick, acrid scent of something else—something unnatural—seemed to cling to every surface.

Dressed only in a hastily thrown-on robe, he had been jolted awake by the sounds of chaos outside his chambers. Fire. An attack on the palace? He had never seen such boldness in his life. The audacity of it seared his veins, turning his rage into something nearly uncontrollable.

Servants ran past him in a panic, buckets of water in hand, attempting to douse the flames. His scowl deepened as the blaze was finally put out. With no time to waste, he stormed inside, the still-smoking air wrapping around him.

"Where is my father?" His voice was clipped, desperate as he moved deeper into the hall.

His eyes caught the sight of bodies strewn across the floor—guards, his father’s elite, all unconscious. Panic twisted in his gut, but he swallowed it down, commanding his voice to remain steady.

"Quick! Get in here!" he barked at the soldiers behind him.

Once inside, his eyes swept the scene, but it was already clear—the king was gone.

"What madness is this?" He muttered under his breath, but louder he commanded, "Search the entire palace! Now! All parties, move!"

Chaos erupted as orders were given, and the palace buzzed with frenzied energy. But as he advanced further into the west wing, what greeted him next made his blood run cold.

The once-immaculate halls of the palace were a scene of the most vulgar debauchery he had ever witnessed. Maids, guards—everyone—were writhing together in a tangled mass of flesh and desire. Clothes half-ripped, eyes glazed over, and moans of pleasure filled the air like a symphony of madness.

"What the hell?!" The Crown Prince’s voice cracked as disbelief etched across his face. He approached one of the guards, grabbing him by the arm, but the man continued his depraved act, utterly lost in his own pleasure.

"The fuck is this? Stand up!" the Prince ordered, his fury barely restrained.

The guard, with his body still entangled with a moaning maid, looked up briefly. "I... I’m sorry, Your Highness. I can’t stop..."

His words hung in the air like an omen. The Crown Prince recoiled in disgust, but his revulsion only deepened when another guard—a man who had sworn loyalty to the throne—tried to grope him, his eyes half-lidded and wild.

The prince’s temper snapped. He slapped the hand away, snarling, "Touch me again, and I’ll kill you where you stand!"

"I—I don’t know what’s happening!" the guard stammered, barely able to restrain his own movements as he grappled with an uncontrollable urge.

The prince turned, fists clenched, and moved deeper into the corridor. His eyes narrowed as he noticed something—the faintest trace of reddish smoke drifting lazily through the air. He pulled his robe over his mouth, realizing too late the danger it posed.

"Don’t inhale it!" he shouted, though his voice sounded distant even to his own ears.

Yet, despite his warning, the guards around him began to succumb to the thick, oppressive haze. The smoke seemed alive, seeping into their lungs, triggering something primal, something uncontrollable. The deeper they ventured, the stronger it became.

At last, they reached a massive door at the end of the hall. The Crown Prince, desperation rising, slammed his shoulder against it with all his strength. "Open it!" he roared.

The Queen and the King’s concubines arrived moments later, their sheer nightgowns clinging to their bodies as they, too, demanded answers.

"What is happening?" the Queen asked, eyes wide with panic. "Where is the king?"

"How the fuck would I know?!" the Crown Prince shot back, frustration boiling over. The moment the words left his mouth, he felt it—the red fog creeping deeper into his senses. His mind began to cloud, his heartbeat quickening.

And then it happened.

The door finally gave way with a resounding crash, revealing a room so thick with the same red smoke that visibility was nearly impossible. But the sounds—oh, the sounds—filled his ears. Moans, gasps, the unmistakable rhythm of bodies moving in tandem. He could barely make out the figures on the bed, shrouded in the thick, carnal fog.

And then the smoke hit him full force.

He staggered, gasping, as it seeped into his lungs. His mind, once sharp and clear, became muddled with an insatiable hunger. His gaze fell upon the nearest concubine—barely dressed, her body illuminated by the dim light—and without a second thought, he grabbed her, pressing her against the wall.

His body moved of its own accord, driven by nothing but raw, animalistic desire. Behind him, the guards followed suit, their own primal urges overtaking them as they descended upon the other concubines. The orgy that had started in the hallway spread like wildfire, consuming everyone in its path.

And still, the smoke poured through the palace, thick and red, like the mark of a vengeful god.

Meanwhile, far away in Seraphina’s Heart, Noelle lay peacefully in bed beside his husband, completely unaware of the havoc he had unleashed upon the capital.