Supreme Demon Emperor Returns

3. The Awakening of a Broken Predator

The temperature in the autopsy suite of St. Jude’s Hospital in Manhattan plummeted. The air conditioning was set to its maximum, yet this bone-chilling cold felt different. It felt wrong. It was as if a massive block of ice had been placed in the center of the room.

"Hell, it’s freezing tonight," complained a stout janitor named Hector. He rubbed his thick arms. "You sure the AC isn't broken, Dave?"

Dave, a thin man with a gaunt face, leaned his broom against the wall. "It’s not the AC, you idiot. I told you, ever since that body from the ravine arrived, the air has felt strange."

"Which body?" asked the third man, Mike, who was puffing on an e-cigarette in the corner of the room.

"That one," Dave pointed with his chin toward the steel autopsy table in the middle of the room. A corpse lay upon it, covered in a white sheet from head to toe. "Xavier Aristhos. The bastard son of that wealthy family. Rumor has it his step-family had him killed."

Hector let out a loud laugh. "I don’t care whose son he is. I only care about the payout. Fifty thousand dollars just to make sure this corpse goes into the incinerator tonight? That’s easy money."

"Shut up! Don't talk about the money here, moron," Mike snapped, switching off his e-cigarette. "You want us all fired? Or worse, turned into an accident like him?"

"Alright, alright, I'm quiet." Hector raised his hands in surrender. "Let’s just finish this. I can’t stand this cold anymore."

Dave and Hector approached the autopsy table. Hector grabbed the edge of the white cloth roughly.

"Let’s see how mangled this rich kid’s face actually is," Hector mocked, preparing to pull the sheet back.

Before his fingers could tug the fabric, a pale hand shot out from beneath the cloth, gripping Hector’s wrist with the strength of a steel vice.

Hector’s eyes widened in terror. "W-what the hell is this?"

Dave and Mike froze, their faces turning as ashen as the corpses around them.

The white cloth slid away slowly.

Xavier Aristhos sat upright on the autopsy table. His eyes were wide, staring directly at Hector. There were no burn marks. No protruding bones. His skin was perfect, though as pale as marble. Only his eyes were different. His once warm brown irises had turned a cold, lifeless dark chocolate.

"Let go of my hand, you bastard!" Hector roared, trying to pull away. Xavier’s grip was as unrelenting as a hydraulic press.

"Where is my document?" Xavier asked. His voice was raspy, deep, and sounded entirely inhuman. Each word seemed to carry the frost of the grave.

"What document? I don’t know anything!" Hector began to panic. He used his free hand to strike Xavier’s arm. It sounded like hitting a block of concrete. Hector’s hand was the only thing that felt the pain.

"The document that was in my car," Xavier repeated with terrifying patience.

"I don’t know! Let me go, you monster!"

Xavier exhaled. His breath appeared as mist in the freezing air. "Then you are useless."

*KRAK.*

With a casual twist of his wrist, Xavier snapped Hector’s arm in the wrong direction. The bone of the man’s forearm pierced through the skin, spraying blood against the white ceramic wall.

Hector let out a high-pitched scream of agony that echoed throughout the room.

Mike and Dave finally snapped out of their shock. Mike, the fastest to react, pulled a pocketknife from his trousers.

"Don’t move, or I’ll gut you!" Mike threatened, though his voice shook violently.

Xavier turned toward Mike. He did not look afraid. He only looked bored.

"You intend to stab me with that?" Xavier asked. "You know, I just felt my body being stitched back together by hellfire. Do you think your little prick will hurt?"

Before Mike could respond, two figures emerged from the darkest corner of the room as if they were made of the shadows themselves.

A burly man in a black suit and sunglasses, Fenrir. And a beautiful woman in a blood-red dress with a cynical smile, Lyra.

"Boss, you are awake," Lyra said with a tone of respect. "Apologies for this unpleasant welcome. We will handle them."

Xavier looked at his two demonic subordinates. He felt the contractual bond that tied them to him. They were his property.

"No," Xavier said, slowly sliding off the autopsy table. His body felt strange. Powerful, but stiff. It was as if he were driving a new sports car he had not yet mastered. "I want to test my strength."

He stepped toward Mike. Every footfall was silent.

"Stay back! I’m serious!" Mike shouted, brandishing his knife with trembling hands.

Xavier kept walking. He stopped right in front of Mike, letting the tip of the knife touch his chest. "Go ahead."

With a desperate cry, Mike lunged, stabbing the knife into Xavier’s chest with all his strength.

*TANG.*

The blade snapped in two. The tip bounced onto the floor. Mike stared at the handle in his hand in disbelief, then looked up at Xavier, who hadn't even blinked.

"My turn," Xavier whispered.

He reached out his right hand, seizing Mike by the throat. The hand felt ice cold.

*I could crush his windpipe right now,* Xavier thought. *Just like crushing a soda can.*

He began to squeeze. His muscles felt tense, filled with overflowing power. He could feel the cartilage in Mike’s neck beginning to crack. Mike’s eyes bulged, his legs kicking in panic.

Just as he was about to apply the final pressure, a sudden, searing pain ripped through his right bicep from the inside.

*GRRRKKK.*

The muscle felt as if it were being twisted and torn apart. His strength vanished instantly. His grip on Mike’s throat loosened.

"Argh!" Xavier let out a stifled groan, clutching his right arm as it suddenly felt paralyzed and scorched.

Seeing an opening, Mike shoved Xavier back and sprinted headlong for the exit. He would never make it.

A dark shadow blurred past him. Fenrir. With one swift motion, Fenrir grabbed Mike’s head from behind and slammed it into the concrete wall.

*BRAKKK.*

Mike’s head split like a watermelon. Brain matter and blood splattered against the wall. His limp body collapsed to the floor.

Dave, the only one left, had already wet his pants. He dropped his broom and fell to his knees, clasping his hands in prayer.

"Please, don't kill me! I was just told to do this! I have a wife and kids!" he sobbed.

Xavier stared at Dave with cold eyes while nursing the pain in his arm. He felt no pity. He felt nothing at all. He was merely annoyed. This man was noisy.

"Fenrir," Xavier commanded.

"Understood, Master." Fenrir stepped toward Dave. The wretched man didn't even have time to scream before Fenrir gripped his jaw and tore it clean from his skull.

The morgue fell silent again. There was only the sound of Xavier’s heavy breathing and three fresh corpses scattered across the floor.

"It seems your body is still in the adjustment phase, Boss," Lyra said, stepping closer. She touched Xavier’s blackened arm with her slender fingertips. "You forced too much demonic energy into your new human cells. Your body is rejecting it."

Xavier brushed Lyra’s hand away. "I’m fine."

"Of course," Lyra replied with a smile that did not reach her eyes. "Only a few internal muscle tears and minor hemorrhaging. It won’t kill you. Not for a second time."

"Where are the documents?" Xavier asked, changing the subject.

"Secured. They are in the car waiting outside." Lyra glanced toward the door. "We should leave. The silent alarm in this room has been active since you broke the first man’s arm. The police will arrive in five minutes."

"The police?" Xavier raised an eyebrow.

"Don’t worry. I’ve already manipulated the initial report. A gas leak. Three workers dead. Case closed," Lyra explained efficiently. "But it would be best if we weren't here when they arrive."

Xavier nodded. He walked past the bodies without sparing them a glance. The pain in his arm still tormented him, a bitter reminder of his new fragility. He was no god. He was a broken predator. A human wearing a damaged killing machine.

As he reached for the door handle, a violent wave of dizziness hit him. His vision began to blur. Black spots danced before his eyes.

"Boss?" Lyra’s voice sounded distant.

Xavier gripped the steel door handle, trying to keep himself from collapsing. He stood frozen there, bracing himself against the edge of the autopsy table with his good left hand. He looked down, and a drop of thick black liquid fell from his mouth onto the cold ceramic floor.

Then another drop.

And another.

He vomited a thick glob of black blood onto the floor. The blood smelled of ozone and sulfur. His vision went completely dark. He could see nothing. Temporary blindness. Another side effect of overusing his power.

"Damn it," he whispered.

His strength was utterly depleted. He lost consciousness, collapsing forward. Before his head could hit the cold floor, Lyra moved with blurring speed, catching his limp frame in her arms. Fenrir stood beside her, a living shield ready to slaughter anyone who dared enter the room.