Page 1 of Warlord’s Prize

PROLOGUE: THE WORLD AFTER THE CONQUEST

Ten years ago, the fabric between dimensions tore open without warning.

The rifts appeared simultaneously across major cities worldwide, disgorging creatures humanity had relegated to myth and nightmare. Dragons soared over metropolitan skylines. Kraken tentacles emerged from harbors and lakes. Plant beings erupted from parks and forests. Shadow demons poured from darkened alleys and underneath beds. Within days, the world as humanity knew it ceased to exist.

Scientists would later theorize that environmental destruction, experimental quantum physics, or perhaps simply cosmic chance had caused these dimensional tears. Whatever the cause, the effect was undeniable—monsters had returned to Earth, and they brought with them biological imperatives that would reshape human society forever.

The beings that emerged were not mindless beasts but intelligent predators with their own hierarchies, cultures, and overwhelming biological drives. Most significantly, they operated on an alpha/omega dynamic far more potent than the vestigial secondary gender system that had existed in humans for millennia. Upon arrival, these creatures—collectively termed "Primes" in official documentation—immediately detected human omegas, whose existence had been largely marginalized in pre-Conquest society.

Human alpha males were systematically eliminated in what became known as the Blood Week. Military resistance crumbled when Prime alphas demonstrated abilities beyond human comprehension—dragons that could withstand missile strikes, shadow demons who could move through solid matter, plant creatures who could control vegetation across entire regions. When the United Nations attempted emergency peace negotiations, the Primes made their terms clear: surrender all omega females for "integration" and eliminate alpha males who might compete for breeding rights.

Some nations attempted to fight. None succeeded. By the end of the first month, the Conquest was complete. A new world order had begun.

In this new reality, human omegas face a stark truth—their biology, once a minor footnote in human existence, now defines their entire future. The Primes operate under Conquest Law, which grants them undisputed right to claim any unmated omega they encounter. Resistance is futile; suppressing omega nature through chemicals only delays the inevitable.

For ten years, humans have lived under Prime rule, the world divided into territories controlled by different monster species. Dragons rule the Eastern Seaboard, their fire and fury reshaping cities into nesting grounds. Nagas control the Southern waterways, transforming swamps and bayous into breeding territories. Shadow demons command the urban Midwest, their darkness penetrating every corner of once-bright cities. Each Prime species has carved out its domain, establishing hierarchies where humans serve and omegas breed.

Some humans resist, operating in secret networks to smuggle suppressants, hide omegas, and undermine Prime authority when possible. But their efforts are drops in an ocean of change. The world belongs to the Primes now, and human society exists at their mercy.

For omegas, life offers limited options: be claimed by a Prime alpha willing to provide protection in exchange for breeding rights, end up in government breeding facilities where personal identity is stripped away, or attempt to hide using increasingly ineffective suppressants—a path that grows more dangerous with each passing year.

This is the world of the Conquest, where ancient monsters rule with primal authority, where human omegas are prized for their fertility, and where the boundaries between captivity and connection blur with each passing generation of hybrid offspring. In this world, monsters and humans forge unexpected bonds, finding that even in darkness, connection can bloom—though never on equal terms.

For the lucky few omegas, captivity by a single powerful alpha might be preferable to the alternatives. And for some, against all odds, what begins as forced claiming may evolve into something neither species expected—something that might, generations hence, bridge the divide between conqueror and conquered.

This is where our story begins.

CHAPTER1

DESPERATE MEASURES

The faces staring backat me from Haven Valley's crowded community hall tell me everything I need to know. Fear has a scent—sharp and acrid with undertones of desperation—and it fills the room despite my people's efforts to mask it with brave expressions. I move between them, a hand on a shoulder here, a reassuring nod there, playing the role of confident leader while my own stomach twists with sick dread.

A sudden wave of heat flashes across my skin, gone so quickly I might have imagined it. I swallow hard, forcing my attention back to the meeting.

"The northern fields yielded less than sixty percent of projected harvest." Maya's voice cuts through the murmurs as she points to the chart I've been avoiding looking at too closely. "At current consumption rates, our stores will be depleted before midwinter."

Midwinter. The word hangs in the air like a death sentence.

I force myself to study the supply charts, the neat columns and rows of numbers that spell out our doom in clean, orderly fashion. Five years of careful planning, of strategic negotiations, of building this haven from the ashes of the Conquest—all of it threatened by a single bad harvest and the early frost that killed our backup crops.

"We've survived shortages before," I say, keeping my voice steady as I scan the room. "We'll adjust rations, send additional hunting parties to the eastern woods?—"

"The eastern woods are being patrolled more heavily," interrupts Taro, my security chief. His weathered face bears the scars of Blood Week, thick ridges of tissue where oni claws had nearly taken his eye. "They've doubled patrols since that incident at the Eastbridge Trading Post. Three foragers from Riverview didn't make it back last week."

My hand moves unconsciously to the hidden pocket sewn into my vest, fingers finding the small vial nestled there. My suppressants. Once a reliable shield against my omega biology, now a dwindling resource becoming less effective with each passing week. The black market supplier had wiped his brow nervously during our last exchange, refusing to meet my eyes.

"Your physiology is building resistance faster than most," he'd warned, voice barely above a whisper. "I can't guarantee effectiveness beyond another month. The chemical composition?—"

"What about reaching out to the other settlements?" someone suggests from the back, pulling me from the memory.

Maya shakes her head, her dark hair catching the lamplight. "They're all facing similar shortages. The early frost affected everyone from the river bend to the foothills."

The room falls silent, and I feel the weight of five hundred lives pressing down on my shoulders. Five hundred people who look to me for survival, for protection, for the answers I'm running out of.

"There is one option we haven't discussed." Elias, my oldest advisor, speaks carefully from his seat at the table. His eyes meet mine, and I already know what he's going to suggest. My stomach clenches in anticipation, a tendril of primal fear curling through me.

"The warlord," he continues, confirming my fear. "Kazuul Bloodcrest controls the regional grain stores. A direct petition might?—"

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