#goldcontract

The office was silent, shadows broken only by the golden glow radiating from the desk. At its centre sat Percival, impeccably dressed in his tailored black suit with gold trim, hypnotic golden eyes fixed on the trembling young man across from him.

Between them lay the parchment. Blank. Heavy. Waiting to be signed.

The recruit’s hand quivered as he lifted the pen, its golden nib pulsing faintly like a living thing. Percival leaned forward, calm and commanding, his voice smooth as silk, impossible to resist.

“Sign.”

The nib met the page. Golden ink bled outward like veins, alive and hungry, racing across the parchment, and into the boy. His breath caught, a gasp escaping as golden light surged up his arm. Muscles tightened. Form sculpted. His veins blazed, bright enough to burn away hesitation. His pupils shrank until molten gold filled his eyes.

Percival smiled faintly. The contract had done its work.

The boy’s body flexed instinctively, civilian clothes unraveling into a shimmer of nothing, exposing the perfect form gold had carved. His chest rose and fell with newfound strength, a faint number flickering across his skin, marking him for the Army.

“Your will is mine now,” Percival murmured. “Your body, your strength, your future, it belongs to GOLD.”

And the recruit stood taller, no longer a boy, but a man claimed, bound, and reborn into destiny.