Fallen General's Omega (BL)
Chapter 59: Changes

Chapter 59: Changes

My name is John. Or at least, that’s the name I go by now. I don’t remember my real name. The earliest memory I have is of a battlefield—bloodied and strewn with rotting corpses, the stench so thick in the air it felt like you could choke on it. I can still smell it sometimes, even when I close my eyes.

I survived by scavenging what I could from the dead—armor, weapons, anything of value to keep me alive. I cleaned the blood-soaked swords and polished the battered shields for a meager coin, thinking that would be my life forever. Just another nameless face, another body waiting to rot in the dirt. But then, seven years ago, everything changed.

That’s when I met him—Master. He took me in, along with a few others, and under his command, we no longer had to worry about where our next meal would come from or if we’d have a roof over our heads. It wasn’t just shelter and food, though. Master gave us purpose. He forged us into something more than the scavengers and thieves we once were. Under him, we became soldiers. No, we became something fiercer.

Master was a force of nature on the battlefield. They called him the Crimson General, and it wasn’t an empty title. He was death itself, sweeping through enemies like a blade cutting through wheat. I remember one battle vividly—he led only 5,000 soldiers, and yet, he decimated an enemy force of 40,000. Half of those deaths were his doing alone. He didn’t need an army; Master was the army. He stood there, drenched in the blood of his enemies, with an expression that could freeze the sun, and from that moment, his legend was born.

He’s terrifying, no doubt about it. But God, if I don’t respect the man with every fiber of my being. There’s something about standing in the shadow of a giant like him. I may be insignificant, another face in the crowd he likely doesn’t remember, but serving him? It’s an honor. One that fills me with pride every single day.

Three years ago, everything changed again. Master was gravely injured, and after that battle, he vanished without a trace. The castle was thrown into chaos in his absence. His so-called family—leeches, all of them—chased us out like we were nothing. With nowhere to go, I ended up working for a blacksmith. The pay was a joke, and some days I didn’t eat at all. I slept in the dirt more times than I’d care to admit. But even that wasn’t as bad as the battlefield.

I thought that was it. My life had returned to its miserable routine—until I heard the news. Master was back. The Crimson General had returned, and he was calling for his servants to rejoin him. I can’t even begin to describe the joy that ran through me when I heard that. I wept, truly wept, knowing I could serve him again. There was no question in my mind. I was going back.

Now, I stand here, washing my hands, the water running red from the blood I had to clean off. It’s strange how people have forgotten to fear Master in his absence. How they think they can challenge him, test his patience. I sigh, shaking my head. It’s just a few minor bodies we have to dispose of, nothing unusual. That’s the cost of serving a man like Master. People are foolish, and sometimes they need reminding.

After drying my hands, I wander by the greenhouse, a peculiar addition to the estate. We all wondered why Master built it in the first place. He didn’t plant anything himself, just brought in seeds and small plants, leaving the space strangely empty. I never understood it—until now.

I glance inside and see him—Master’s consort. He’s kneeling over a small bed of plants, tending to them with delicate care. He’s... beautiful. Ethereal, even. But it’s not just his beauty that captivates us. It’s what he’s done to Master. I watch as the Crimson General, the man who once bathed in the blood of thousands, steps into the greenhouse and joins his husband, kneeling beside him. Master smiles—a genuine, soft smile—and begins helping him plant.

It’s such an odd sight. The terrifying general, the man who could crush armies with a single sweep of his sword, down on his knees, planting alongside his delicate husband. It should look wrong. It should be a contradiction. But somehow, it isn’t. It fits in a strange, unexpected way.

We’re all curious about this man—this tiny, fragile-looking figure who managed to bring the Crimson General to heel. Sure, Master is still terrifying, as evidenced by the bodies I had to clean up earlier today, but seeing him like this? It’s as if this man has uncovered a side of Master none of us knew existed.

And in some strange way, it makes me respect him even more. Because now I see that the Crimson General isn’t just a force of destruction. He’s human. Capable of tenderness, of care, of love. And that’s something truly terrifying in its own right.

As I stand there watching them, I can’t help but feel a surge of admiration for Master’s consort. He’s delicate, yes, but there’s a quiet strength in the way he handles himself, the way he’s brought peace to a man who thrives in chaos. It’s almost surreal. The greenhouse, filled with the soft rustling of leaves and the scent of fresh earth, contrasts sharply with the blood-soaked life we’ve always known. But this is a new side of Master, and in his husband’s presence, he seems... different. Calmer. Softer. Yet no less powerful.

The others whisper about him, too. Some say it’s his beauty that tamed the beast; others believe there’s something deeper, something in the way he carries himself. We’ve all heard the stories of how Master would destroy anyone who dared cross him, yet here he is, gently tending to plants like a humble gardener. It’s hard to reconcile the two images—the ruthless general and the doting husband—but I suppose that’s the nature of love. It changes people in ways you don’t expect.