Supreme Demon Emperor Returns

9. Bloody Chess in the Execution Room

A haunting silence hung in the air for a fraction of a second. Marcus and his four personal guards stared at Fenrir with their mouths agape, as if they had just seen a gorilla break through a bank vault door. Concrete dust was still falling from the ceiling.

"Who? Who are you?" one of the guards shouted, his voice cracking with panic.

Fenrir did not answer. He simply tilted his neck until a sickening crack of bone was heard, then stepped further into the room.

"Shoot him! Shoot!" Marcus roared, snapping out of his shock.

The four guards immediately unleashed a hail of blind gunfire. The cramped room was filled with the thunder of pistol shots and the muzzle flashes. Dozens of bullets streaked toward Fenrir.

Xavier, still lying on the floor, only offered a thin smile behind his bloodstains. He knew exactly what was about to happen.

The bullets slammed into Fenrir’s chest and shoulders, but they did not penetrate his skin. The projectiles simply flattened upon contact with the demon’s body, falling to the floor like useless pebbles.

Ting, ting, ting.

The eyes of the four guards bulged in horror. They stopped firing. Their weapons were still smoking.

"That’s impossible," one of them whispered.

"My turn," Fenrir growled.

He lunged forward with a speed impossible for a body that size. Before the first guard could even reload his ammunition, Fenrir’s hand had already gripped his face. With a single twisting motion, the man’s neck snapped with a nauseating pop.

The second guard tried to strike Fenrir with the butt of his pistol. Fenrir caught his wrist, crushed it, and then used the man’s own arm as a club to smash the third guard's head. Both collapsed to the floor in a heap of broken bones.

The last guard, the most experienced, dropped his pistol and drew a combat knife from his vest. He tried to stab Fenrir in the neck. Fenrir stood still, letting the tip of the knife strike his throat. The blade bent.

"Weak," Fenrir sneered before grabbing the man’s head and slamming it repeatedly against the concrete wall until only a red pulp remained.

The slaughter was over in less than ten seconds. The four corpses lay in unnatural positions around Fenrir, who stood tall without a single scratch.

Marcus Thorne stood trembling in the corner of the room. His whiskey glass shattered at his feet. His face was no longer pale, but as blue as a corpse. He stared at Fenrir, then at Xavier, who was still lying casually on the floor.

"You, none of you are human," he sobbed.

Xavier let out a small laugh, which quickly turned into a cough of blood. "Took you long enough to realize, didn't it?"

He pushed himself up with great effort using his healthy left arm. The pain from his broken knee made him nearly faint, but he managed to lean his back against the wall. He stared at Marcus with his glowing blue eyes.

"Now it’s just the two of us, Marcus," Xavier said. "Fenrir, handcuff him to that chair. And make sure the cuffs are very tight."

Fenrir dragged the struggling Marcus to a steel chair in the center of the room. He cuffed Marcus’s hands behind the backrest so tightly that the man winced in pain.

"What do you want?" Marcus screamed. "Money? I can give you all my money! Stocks? Take them all! Just let me go!"

"I don't need your money, Marcus," Xavier said. He reached out his bloodied left hand. "I need something far more valuable."

Xavier reached into his inner pocket, pulling out an expensive pen and a piece of paper that Lyra had prepared. He tossed them onto the table in front of Marcus.

"That is a transfer deed for all your offshore assets to a shell company in the Cayman Islands," Xavier explained. "Sign it."

Marcus stared at the paper, then at Xavier. "You’re crazy. If I sign this, I’ll be bankrupt. I’m not doing it."

"Oh, you will," Xavier said with a cold smile.

He looked at his broken leg, then back at Marcus. Fresh blood was still dripping from his trousers, forming a small pool on the floor. This was part of his plan.

Using his left heel, Xavier began to slowly move the pool of blood across the concrete floor, drawing it into an intricate pattern. A small demonic seal.

The terrified Marcus didn't notice the subtle movement. He was too focused on Fenrir, who loomed like a mountain behind him.

"I’m never signing! You can kill me, but you won't get a single cent!" Marcus shouted, trying to sound brave.

"Who said I was going to kill you?" Xavier asked. He continued drawing with his blood. The pattern was almost complete. "Death is too quick for a traitor like you. I have something much worse in mind."

Marcus frowned. "What do you mean?"

It was then that he accidentally glanced at the floor. He saw the strange, blood-red pattern almost finished near Xavier’s feet. The pattern seemed alive, radiating a cold and malevolent aura.

Marcus was no fool. He might be corrupt and a murderer, but he was also a businessman who believed in superstitions. He had heard rumors of strange symbols used by the Satan-worshipping elites on Wall Street.

Cold sweat the size of corn kernels began to pour down his temples. Something was very, very wrong.

"Don’t, don’t finish that drawing," he whispered, his voice trembling violently.

Xavier only smiled. With one final stroke, he completed the last line of the seal.

There was no explosion. No flash of light. But Marcus could feel a shift in the air. The room felt colder, darker, and filled with whispers that only he could hear.

"What, what have you done?"

"I’ve just opened a line of communication," Xavier answered. He looked at Marcus. His blue eyes shone brighter. "To hell."

At that moment, Marcus realized that Xavier's plan from the start wasn't to torture him physically. The man before him was playing a far more terrifying game.

Xavier intentionally let himself be broken just to get the blood for this ritual, Marcus thought in horror. He isn't human. He really is a devil.

His trained survival instinct took over. He couldn't fight supernatural power. The only way was to run.

With an unexpected movement, Marcus leaned his body forward, then slammed his head back with all his might, right into Fenrir’s nose.

Fenrir, not expecting such a desperate attack, staggered back slightly. At the same time, Marcus, whose hands were still cuffed, kicked the table in front of him, flipping it over to create chaos. Then he did something insane.

He reached for the leg of his closest fallen bodyguard, snatched a spare handcuff key from the man's pocket, unlocked himself, and bolted out of the room, locking the triple-layered steel door from the control panel outside.

It all happened so fast that even Lyra, monitoring from afar, didn't have time to give a warning.

Fenrir wiped his nose, which wasn't bleeding at all, looking annoyed. "Coward."

Xavier didn't look panicked. He just stared at the tightly locked steel door. He knew Marcus wouldn't be able to run far.

Suddenly, a loud hissing sound came from the ventilation vents in the ceiling.

A greenish-white smoke began to spray out, filling the room rapidly.

Xavier immediately recognized the distinct smell of bitter almonds. Cyanide.

"He’s trying to kill us all here," Fenrir said calmly, as if they were just discussing the weather.

Xavier coughed. His already wounded lungs felt like they were on fire. The poisonous gas immediately attacked his fragile respiratory system. He stared at the locked steel door. He had only three minutes before his lungs were permanently destroyed. And this time, there was no Morax coming to put him back together.