Chapter 281: Lucifer’s pit

The morning sun in Drakoria cast long shadows across the detention center's loading bay as a line of prison transport vehicles hummed in the air, their anti-gravity systems casting a pale blue glow beneath.

Each vehicle bore the white and red markings of the Enforcer Division, their armored hulls gleaming under the harsh lights.

Inside one of the vehicles, five prisoners sat in sullen silence, their wrists bound by energy cuffs that pulsed with a soft red light. The air was thick with tension and the metallic taste of fear.

A young man with tribal tattoos covering his neck kept mumbling prayers under his breath, while an older woman with cybernetic implants stared blankly at the floor, her augmented eyes occasionally flickering with static.

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The relative quiet was shattered by a commotion outside. Angry shouts and the sound of scuffling feet echoed through the loading bay.

"Get your hands off me, you glorified security guards!" A deep, gravelly voice boomed across the facility. "I'll tear your throats out!"

The prisoners inside the transport craned their necks to see through the reinforced windows. Five Enforcers were struggling with a massive man, his muscled frame easily dwarfing his escorts.

His face was a mess of old scars and fresh bruises, partially covered by a transparent containment mask that gleamed under the lights.

"Shut it, Viper," one of the Enforcers grunted, jabbing him with a shock baton. "You had your chance at a fair trial." Sёarᴄh the nôvel_Fire.ηet website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

Viper's laugh was more like a snarl. "Fair? Nothing's fair in this cursed city!" He twisted violently, nearly breaking free from two Enforcers' grip. "You think the wasteland can hold me? I'll feed your bodies to the sand wyrms when I get out!"

"That's what they all say," another Enforcer muttered, wiping sweat from his brow. "Keep moving, you piece of trash."

As they approached the transport, one of the prisoners inside whispered, "That's really him? The Viper of the Lower Depths?"

"What's left of him," another prisoner responded. "Heard Steele's team worked him over good when they caught him."

The transport's door slid open with a hydraulic hiss, and the Enforcers roughly shoved Viper inside. He stumbled, his massive frame taking up nearly twice the space of a normal prisoner.

"I'll remember your faces," Viper growled at the Enforcers, baring his teeth behind the mask. "Every single one of you." His eyes, a disturbing shade of yellow – probably some illegal mod – scanned each officer in turn.

"Save your breath," the lead Enforcer replied, checking the security restraints. "Where you're going, the only faces you'll see are those of your fellow degenerates."

Before Viper could respond, a ripple of whispers spread through the loading bay. The other prisoners pressed against their windows, and even the Enforcers turned to look.

"It's him..."

"No way..."

"They actually caught him?"

Walking calmly between ten heavily armed Enforcers was Xylar the soulless. Behind him was the ervous-looking Thunder. Unlike the other prisoners, Xylar wasn't struggling or showing any signs of distress. In fact, a slight smile played at the corners of his mouth.

"Xylar the Soulless," Viper breathed, his previous anger momentarily forgotten. "So the rumors were true."

Inside the other transport vehicles, prisoners were pressing against the windows, their faces a mix of awe and disbelief. Some began shouting questions:

"How'd they catch you, Xylar?"

"Was it Steele? Had to be Steele, right?"

"The ghost himself, in the flesh!"

But Xylar's smile never wavered as he approached the transport. His assistant, Thunder, followed close behind, his eyes darting nervously between the armed Enforcers.

"Sir," Thunder whispered, barely moving his lips. "Are you sure about this? Nobody's ever escaped the wasteland. Nobody."

Xylar's response was barely audible: "Patience, old friend. Everything is proceeding exactly as planned."

As they reached the transport's door, one of the Enforcers roughly grabbed Xylar's arm to guide him inside. The prisoner's smile widened slightly, causing the officer to involuntarily step back.

"No need for that," Xylar said softly. "I can manage."

He stepped gracefully into the transport, Thunder following behind with considerably less composure. As they settled into their seats, the other prisoners stared openly, their previous conversations forgotten.

In the escort vehicles surrounding the transports, the Enforcers were having their own discussions.

"That's him? That's the guy who took down the entire Crimson Syndicate but failed to kill the noble?" One young officer scoffed, adjusting his helmet.

His partner, a veteran with graying temples, shook her head. "Don't let the calm fool you, rookie. Rumours has it that he was responsible for Marina District massacre. What he did to those people..." She suppressed a shudder.

"Still," another chimed in, "seems almost too easy, doesn't it? The way he just walked in?"

Back in the prisoner transport, Viper was the first to break the tense silence. "The great Xylar," he said, his voice a mix of respect and curiosity. "Never thought I'd see you in chains. What happened? Age finally slow you down?"

The other prisoners held their breath, waiting for Xylar's response. Even Thunder seemed to tense up.

Xylar's dark eyes fixed on Viper, that unnerving smile still in place. "Let's just say I have some business to attend to in the wasteland."

A confused murmur ran through the transport. "Business?" one of the prisoners asked. "In that hell?"

"What kind of business could be worth getting sent to the wasteland?" another added.

"The life-changing kind," Xylar replied simply, his eyes now focused on some distant point beyond the transport's walls.

Viper studied him for a long moment, his yellow eyes narrowing. Then understanding seemed to dawn on his scarred face. "Ah," he said, leaning back with a grin that matched Xylar's. "Count me in, whatever it is. Always wanted to work with a legend."

Thunder shifted uncomfortably in his seat. 'This is madness,' he thought, watching his boss's confident expression. 'What if we can't find them? What if they're already dead? What if...' His thoughts were interrupted by the transport's engines powering up.

In the escort vehicles, the chatter continued.

"My cousin worked security at his trial," one officer said. "Said Xylar didn't say a word the whole time. Just sat there smiling, like he is now."

"Creeps me out," another admitted. "Give me honest thugs like Viper any day. At least you know where you stand with them."

"You're all buying into the hype," a third officer declared. "Look at him – no resistance, no fighting. Maybe he's just getting old, lost his edge."

The veteran officer from earlier shook her head again. "Pray you never find out how wrong you are, kid."

The convoy began to move, the generators humming as they lifted off from the loading bay. Through the reinforced windows, the prisoners could see the city's skyline growing distant, the wasteland's barrier shimmering like a heat mirage on the horizon.

Inside the transport, most of the prisoners had fallen into a defeated silence, but Xylar's smile remained unchanged. His mind was focused on the bounty – on Matilda and Zafron. The rewards would be beyond anything these small-time criminals could imagine. All he needed was patience.

The transport vehicles descended toward a heavily fortified processing station at the wasteland's edge. As they touched down, dust swirled around the landing pads, and the harsh sun beat down on the armored hulls.

The door slid open one final time, flooding the interior with bright light and hot, dry air. As the prisoners were ordered to exit, Xylar rose smoothly to his feet.

"Time to collect my bounty," he said softly, just loud enough for Viper to hear.

The scarred criminal's eyes gleamed with interest as they were led toward the processing station, the wasteland's endless expanse stretching out before them like an ocean of sand and broken dreams.

The scorching sun beat down mercilessly as the prisoners formed a ragged line, their chains clinking with each step.

Thunder stayed close behind Xylar, while Viper's massive frame cast a shadow ahead of them. The processing yard was filled with the shuffle of feet and the murmur of voices.

Heads turned as they walked. A thin man with cybernetic eyes did a double-take, nudging his companion. "That's really him," he whispered hoarsely. "The Soulless One himself."

Xylar's smile widened, his dark eyes scanning the crowd. "What's the matter?" he called out, voice carrying across the yard. "Never seen a living legend before? Take a good look – might be your only chance."

The onlookers quickly averted their gaze, but their whispers grew more intense. "Arrogant as ever," someone muttered. "We'll see how long that lasts in here."

"EYES FORWARD! KEEP MOVING!" an Enforcer barked, his amplified voice echoing off the concrete walls.

As they approached the towering gates where the Gatekeepers waited – their silver masks reflecting the harsh sunlight – Viper's mind raced. 'Whatever Xylar's planning,' he thought, casting a glance at the legendary criminal's confident stride, 'I need to stay close. Man like that, even in here...

could be useful.' He flexed his massive hands within their restraints, already calculating angles and advantages.

Behind them, Thunder couldn't shake the feeling that they were walking into a trap. But as always, he followed his boss, hoping that this time, Xylar's confidence wasn't misplaced.

The wasteland waited, silent and eternal, ready to swallow them all.

The Gatekeepers stepped forward, their ceremonial robes billowing in the hot wind. Their masks betrayed no emotion as they approached.

"WELCOME TO YOUR NEW HOME!"