Supreme Demon Emperor Returns

11. The Absolute Defense of the Dark Shadow

Marcus stared at the sheet of paper on the frigid floor. His hands trembled violently. He had no other choice. He picked up the pen Xavier had thrown and signed the asset transfer document.

Marcus slowly set the pen down. He scrambled backward, away from the paper now stained with fresh blood.

"I signed it," Marcus sobbed, his voice hoarse. "Now let me go. I promise I'll get far away from this city."

Xavier glanced at the document on the floor. With a flicker of his remaining strength, he snapped his fingers. The paper floated slowly into the air and landed smoothly in his palm.

"Your task is complete, Marcus," Xavier said, his tone glacial. "But I never promised to let you go."

"What are you talking about?!" Marcus screamed in panic. "We had a deal. You got all my money."

"This money was merely a tool to destroy my family," Xavier replied. His blue eyes blazed in the darkness of the room. "The contract you signed with a demon's blood has another price. Your life."

Marcus’s eyes flew wide open. The veins on the middle-aged man's neck bulged like worms. He clutched his chest. He screamed with all his might, but no sound came out. Thick, black smoke poured violently from his mouth and eyes.

It was the absolute payment demanded by hell. Marcus’s soul was torn from its physical vessel. The black smoke shot forward and slammed directly into Xavier's chest.

Marcus’s body collapsed onto the steel floor. He was a rigid corpse, his eyes open and fixed on the ceiling.

But Xavier suffered the consequences in that same instant. Thick, black veins immediately protruded on his neck and face. His mortal body violently rejected the foul energy. The rejection instantly destroyed his internal organs.

Xavier vomited a clot of black blood onto the floor. His consciousness snapped. His legs could no longer hold him upright. His body pitched forward.

Fenrir moved with lightning speed. He caught Xavier’s body an instant before his boss’s face could hit the floor.

"Boss," Fenrir called out sharply. He leaned Xavier’s body against the wall.

Just then, red sirens flashed throughout the room. The building's main alarm shrieked, deafening them. The sound of rapid, sharp typing echoed from the earpiece in Fenrir’s ear.

"Fenrir, you have to get out now." Lyra's voice was frantic on the other end. "Marcus's elite squad is storming down from the third floor. There are dozens of men heading for your position."

"How many, exactly?" Fenrir asked calmly. He lifted Xavier and slung him over his right shoulder.

"About thirty. They’re carrying automatic rifles. The main route is blocked," Lyra guided him quickly. "Go straight down this corridor. Turn left after the generator room. I’ve shut down the main elevator system. They're forced to use the emergency stairs."

"Understood," Fenrir replied.

He ran through the lingering poison gas in the hallway. The weight of Xavier’s body did not slow his rough stride at all. Xavier felt unnervingly cold on his shoulder.

In the midst of the escape, Xavier's consciousness slowly surfaced. His body felt like it was being incinerated from the inside. This pain was far more agonizing than when his bones were shattered at the bottom of the ravine.

In his pained subconscious, a memory of Livia flashed with perfect clarity. He remembered his sister's smile. He remembered the warmth of her hand when she touched his face. A strange flutter went through Xavier’s heart. There was a powerful, suppressed longing. This protective urge made his chest feel incredibly tight.

Livia's innocence was Xavier’s only anchor to sanity. He needed her. He needed Livia to stabilize the demonic energy that was now rampaging through his lungs.

"Livia," Xavier mumbled softly on Fenrir's shoulder. His eyes were still squeezed shut. "I have to get her. Her hands are so warm."

Fenrir heard the murmur. "Hang on, Boss. We're getting out of here."

The heavy thud of footsteps echoed from the corridor intersection ahead of them. A dozen men in black tactical gear appeared, carrying long-barreled rifles.

"There they are!" the guards' commander shouted, pointing at Fenrir. "Shoot the big guy. Finish that bastard right now."

Bullets immediately ripped through the air. Fenrir jumped and took cover behind a thick concrete pillar. Cement fragments flew, striking his face and arms.

"Lyra, I'm pinned down at the north intersection," Fenrir reported into his earpiece. "Give me a diversion."

"Give me three seconds," Lyra replied.

Suddenly, loud rock music blasted from the speakers in the hallway ceiling. Lyra had hacked the logistics building's entire audio system.

"Hello, you poor guard dogs," Lyra greeted them over the speakers. Her tone was casual and full of mockery.

The barrage of gunfire stopped instantly. The guards looked at each other, confused.

"Damn it. Who is that?!" the commander yelled, pointing his rifle upward. "Find the source of that voice."

"Are you trying to get us killed?!" another guard shouted in fear.

Lyra chuckled through the speakers. "I just want to offer some logical advice. Your boss just died wetting his pants in the control room. You want to die a pointless death for a corpse? You're not paid enough for this."

"You damn hacker," the commander roared in fury. "Ignore the voice. Advance and kill them both."

"Bad choice," Lyra said dismissively. "The big guy behind that pillar can break your necks in two seconds. Have fun."

The momentary distraction was a fatal mistake.

Fenrir shot out from behind the concrete pillar. He charged the foremost guard with his left shoulder.

"You're dead," the guard screamed a moment before impact.

"Too slow," Fenrir whispered coldly.

There was a loud crack of a breaking sternum. The guard was thrown against the corridor wall and knocked unconscious.

Fenrir snatched the man's rifle. He didn't waste the ammunition. He spun the weapon around and used the hard iron stock to smash the faces of two other guards. Their jaws shattered into pieces with a single blow.

Fresh blood splattered across the corridor wall. Screams of pain filled the room. Fenrir tore through the line of armed men without mercy, using his pure demonic strength. Ten seconds later, the long hallway was filled with men groaning on the floor, clutching their broken bones.

"Path is clear," Fenrir reported into his radio. He readjusted Xavier’s body on his shoulder and started running down the corridor again.

"Emergency exit fifty meters ahead," Lyra instructed. "I've already got the van running in the back alley. Move it."

Fenrir kicked down the thick steel door at the end of the hall with one solid blow. The door's iron hinges ripped from the wall. The cold air and drizzling rain of the New York City night hit both of their faces.

A large black van was parked neatly in the narrow alley. Lyra sat in the driver's seat, staring tensely into the rearview mirror.

"Get in, quick," Lyra yelled, pulling the lever to open the van's sliding door from the front.

Fenrir laid Xavier's body on the rearmost seat. He had just turned to get into the van himself. Suddenly, the rooftop door of the three-story building above them was kicked open violently. Three elite guards appeared, carrying long-range rifles.

"That's the van. Don't let them get away," a guard shouted from the roof. "Shoot the tires. Shoot him in the head."

Bullets rained down on the asphalt like hail. Lyra stomped on the gas slightly to move the van out of the line of fire.

Fenrir leaped into the van. Two bullets tore through his right back simultaneously. Fresh blood sprayed across the interior window.

Fenrir grunted, fighting the searing pain in his flesh. He pulled his body completely inside and slammed the sliding door shut.

"Go, now," Fenrir commanded, his voice tight with anger.

The tires screeched loudly against the asphalt. The black van shot out of the alley. They merged with the sparse late-night traffic.

"You're hit?" Lyra asked in a panic, keeping her foot on the gas.

"Just a normal human bullet. It went clean through," Fenrir answered calmly, holding his back. Blood was still soaking his jacket. "Just focus on driving. Don't talk so much."

"I know my job, big guy," Lyra snapped, annoyed.

Lyra typed rapidly on her laptop screen with one hand. Her other hand held the steering wheel with calm precision.

"I've shut down all the traffic CCTV cameras in this district," Lyra said. "The NYPD will be confused. It'll take them at least ten minutes to realize there's a mass blackout and trace our plates."

The atmosphere inside the van slowly fell silent. The only sounds were Fenrir's ragged breaths from the middle row and the heavy rain pounding on the roof.

The night's bloody escape had drained all three of them. Time passed unnoticed on the cold streets of New York City.

Four hours later.

The black van was now parked inside a dark, abandoned underground garage on the outskirts of the Bronx. The area was quiet and safely beyond the reach of the police.

Fenrir sat leaning against the van's interior wall. He had just finished wrapping his gunshot wounds with a white bandage. His demonic body wouldn't die from a simple steel bullet. But it still drained his physical energy reserves quite quickly.

Fenrir glanced toward the back seat. Xavier had been lying there, stiff and motionless, ever since they escaped the building. The man's face was as pale as paper.

"Boss?" Fenrir called out softly.

There was no response from the back.

Lyra looked back from the driver's seat. "He's still not awake?"

Fenrir frowned. His instincts told him something was wrong. He crawled slowly toward the back seat. He touched Xavier's wrist. It felt as stiff as dry wood.

Fenrir looked at his boss's face. He slowly brought two fingers under Xavier’s nose, checking for any sign of breath. The large man's eyes instantly widened in horror.

"Lyra," Fenrir called, his voice strained. "He's not breathing. His body temperature is the same as a corpse's."