Supreme Demon Emperor Returns

8. Meat Bait for the Wolf

Light snow began to fall, covering the grimy asphalt of the Queens industrial district in a fragile white layer. The air was freezing, cold enough to turn a regular person’s breath into visible steam. Across the street from the Aristhos logistics building, which loomed like a modern fortress, a black sedan pulled up silently.

In the backseat, Xavier stared at his reflection in the dark window glass. He was wearing a perfectly tailored charcoal Tom Ford suit, a black silk shirt with no tie, and polished leather shoes. His hair was slicked back neatly. His appearance was the embodiment of a successful Wall Street CEO, not a ghost risen from the dead.

"Are you sure about this, Boss?" Lyra asked from the front seat via intercom. She and Fenrir were on the rooftop of the building opposite, monitoring from a distance.

"Of course," Xavier replied. "What’s the situation inside?"

"As predicted," Lyra reported. "Twenty-four armed guards on the ground floor. All former special forces, hired from the top private security firms. They won't hesitate to shoot even a fly."

"Good," Xavier said. He lit a cigarette, took a single drag, then crushed it out in the car’s crystal ashtray. He didn't need the nicotine; he just needed the gesture. A ritual before the slaughter. "Fenrir?"

"I am ready, Master," Fenrir answered over the intercom, his voice heavy with anticipation. "When can I move in?"

"When I give you the signal," Xavier said. "And remember: no interference until I am inside the execution room. Understood?"

"Understood."

Xavier exhaled. "Alright. Time for a visit."

He opened the car door and stepped out. The cold air immediately hit his face. He wasn't wearing a coat; he wanted them to see him clearly. With a relaxed, confident stride, he began to cross the street, heading straight for the main lobby doors made of bulletproof glass.

In the control room upstairs, Marcus Thorne stared at the monitors with red, swollen eyes. He hadn't slept in three days. Arthur’s death and the clean-up team vanishing without a trace had made him deathly paranoid.

"Movement at the Main Entrance," one of the security operators beside him reported. "A single male approaching."

"Zoom in," Marcus ordered.

The main screen showed the figure of Xavier walking gracefully through the falling snow. His expensive suit stood in stark contrast to the grimy industrial surroundings. The operator frowned. "His face... it looks exactly like..."

The coffee cup in Marcus's hand hit the floor, shattering into pieces. His face, already pale, turned as white as a sheet. Cold sweat broke out on his temples.

"I-it’s impossible..." he whispered, his voice trembling violently. "He... he should be ashes."

"Lock all the doors!" Marcus roared in a panic. "Activate lockdown mode! Send all guards to the lobby! All of them! Now!"

In the lobby, a silent emergency alarm went off. Red lights flashed on the security panels. Twenty-four armed guards immediately took up combat positions, forming a semi-circle facing the main entrance. Their assault rifles were raised, red lasers dancing on the glass doors.

Xavier stopped right in front of the glass doors. He could see dozens of red dots on his chest. He only offered a thin smile, then raised both hands in the air—a theatrical gesture of surrender. The glass doors hissed open.

"DON'T MOVE!" the guard commander shouted. "ON YOUR KNEES! HANDS BEHIND YOUR HEAD!"

Xavier stepped inside calmly. "I will not kneel. I’ve come to see Marcus Thorne. Tell him Xavier Aristhos wants to talk."

The guards looked at each other, confused. Over their intercoms, Marcus’s panicked voice raved: "He’s not Xavier! Hit him! Disable him! Bring him downstairs!"

Two giant guards stepped forward with telescopic steel batons.

"Last warning, bastard. Kneel," one guard said.

"You want me to kneel before a lapdog?" Xavier looked at him with amusement. "You should know who your master is."

The guard growled in anger and swung his steel baton with all his might at Xavier’s knee.

KRAK!

The sickening sound of snapping bone echoed throughout the lobby. Xavier’s right knee broke. A sharp, burning pain shot up instantly, sending Xavier crashing down onto the cold marble floor. He coughed up blood, but his gaze remained sharp.

"Not as tough as you look, huh?" the second guard mocked, activating his stun baton. "Now, let’s see if you can handle 50,000 volts."

He jammed the tip of the baton into Xavier’s back. Xavier’s body buckled and convulsed violently. His muscles tightened until they felt like they would snap. It felt as though every cell in his body was being burned from the inside. But he didn't scream. He bit his lip until it bled.

This was the price. The price to enter the heart of the fortress.

Two guards grabbed Xavier’s limp arms and began dragging him across the lobby like a sack of rice. Xavier’s head lolled, a trail of blood from his mouth forming a red line on the polished marble.

They descended the freight elevator to the basement. The elevator doors opened into a grim concrete corridor. At the end of the hall, a triple-layered steel door stood firm. The Execution Room.

"Sir, we’ve brought him," the commander reported via intercom.

The steel door hissed open. Inside, Marcus Thorne sat in a luxury leather chair, surrounded by four personal bodyguards. Xavier was thrown into the center of the room. He coughed again, spitting out more blood.

Marcus stood up and walked closer. That face... the face that had haunted his nightmares.

"Who are you?" Marcus asked, his voice shaking. "Who sent you?"

Xavier raised his head slowly. A terrifying, thin smile played on his bloody lips. "You know who I am, Marcus."

"No... it’s impossible..."

"I came back from hell just to see you," Xavier continued. "You’re the first on my list."

Pure fear finally overrode Marcus’s arrogance. He backed away until he hit his desk. "He... he’s not human! Finish him! Shoot him in the head now!"

Marcus's four personal guards raised their pistols.

"Now, Fenrir," Xavier whispered in his mind.

At that exact moment, the triple-layered steel door behind them suddenly dented inward with a deafening boom.

BOOM!

Again.

BOOM!

The dent grew larger. The door hinges began to rip from the concrete wall. Marcus and his guards turned in horror.

BOOOOM!!!

The steel door was finally blasted off its frame, flying across the room and slamming into the opposite wall. In the ruined doorway, Fenrir stood motionless.

"The party is over, bastards," Fenrir growled.

Marcus Thorne stared at the destroyed door, then at Fenrir, then at the smiling Xavier on the floor. He finally understood. He wasn't looking at a ghost. He was looking at the Grim Reaper come to collect him.