Twinlight

Chapter 23: The Uninvited Guest

Penitentiary-18 lay unnervingly quiet, the usual cacophony of clanging metal and barked insults conspicuously absent. Sunlight slanted through reinforced skylights, illuminating dust motes dancing in the sterile air.

None could fathom what manner of fool would dare provoke Lucian Reed within these walls. Inmates exchanged uneasy glances, their expressions a mix of morbid curiosity and disbelief.

Hydraulic hisses cut through the silence.Twelve Cyber-Wardens closed in on Leo Stone, alloy joints whining under the strain of combat-ready postures. Each mechanical enforcer stood seven feet tall, their photoreceptors glowing crimson as targeting lasers converged on the trembling newcomer. Confronted by this overwhelming show of force, Leo abandoned all thoughts of making his name here. As a second-wave crosser thrust into this steel-beast dominated Shadow Realm, the brutal reality slammed into him like a physical blow—this was no game.

WHIRR-CLICK!Drones descended like steel hornets, sealing his escape routes. Within seconds, Leo found himself pinned facedown on cold concrete, alloy shackles ratcheting shut around his wrists. He was unceremoniously dragged beyond the yard into the prison’s uncharted depths, his sneakers scraping twin trails through grime.

​Observation Tier​

Silas Locke perched on his chair like a restless sparrow, drumming fingers on the metal tabletop. "Boss," he mused, eyes tracking the spectacle below. "Don’t things feel... off lately? First that kid babbling about ‘Lorien,’ playing Syndicate Heir. Now this i***t demanding quests. Quests?" His voice dripped with incredulity. "What’s next? Asking where to respawn?"

He absentmindedly reached toward the massive cat lounging beside Lucian’s chessboard. A low growl rumbled in its throat—a sound like grinding stones. Silas snatched his hand back as the feline’s claws unsheathed, glinting like obsidian daggers.

Lucian Reed’s gaze remained distant, fingers tracing the edge of a weathered book. "An anomaly persists," he murmured. "Patterns shifting like desert sands."

Silas snapped his fingers. "Wait—where’s Elian Thorne? Kid raced downstairs yesterday like his pants were on fire. Hiding today?"

​Corridor Shadows​

Elian Thorne moved like liquid darkness through the dim corridors, his footsteps silent on corroded grating. Ignoring the distant commotion, he cornered Luther Ward near the commissary. "Listen close," he murmured, pressing the burly man against damp concrete. "After meals, round up every newcomer. Grill them—outside identities, family ties, gang affiliations. Everything."

Luther’s eager nod made his jowls quiver. "Consider it done, boss!" To him, this signaled a hunt for rival infiltrators. He pictured promotions dancing before his eyes.

Elian’s thoughts ran colder: Find the other crossers.

Anyone without a seamless backstory will crack under pressure.

He paused mid-turn, then added with uncharacteristic hesitation, "I know the ‘welcoming ritual’ is tradition." Steel entered his voice. "But go easy. Break fingers if you must—just no permanent damage. Not all are threats."

Luther blinked, processing the contradiction. "Understood." He lumbered off, already bellowing orders.

​The Interrogation​

One hour later

Sweat gleamed on Luther’s brow as he approached Elian’s alcove. "Interrogations complete." He handed over a grease-stained notepad. "Twenty-three new fish. Sixteen gave clean backgrounds—corporate drones, small-time hustlers. Seven stories stank worse than the septic tank." He smirked. "Handled ‘em gently like you asked. Just a few... persuasive nudges."

Elian scanned the notes with hawk-like intensity. Prisoner #4 claimed to be a waste management technician but couldn’t name basic polymer grades. #11 swore he ran with the Red Daggers yet flinched at knife-handling tests. Amateurs.Only when Luther confirmed—no other crossers—did Elian’s shoulders relax a fraction.

He strode to Lucian’s table where the man sat contemplating a half-finished game of Xiangqi. "Chess today?"

"Not now," Lucian replied softly, moving a carved ebony horse. "Matters require contemplation." His eyes flickered toward the main gate. "And we have a guest arriving."

"Guest?" Elian’s eyebrow arched.

Lucian’s smile held no warmth. "An uninvited one."

Casually, Elian gestured toward the yard where guards were mopping up Leo’s struggle. "What happened earlier?"

For the first time, genuine perplexity flickered across Lucian’s face. "I truly don’t know," he admitted, steepling his fingers. "The boy acted as though expecting golden exclamation marks above my head."

Elian bit his cheek to stifle a laugh. Crossers had finally baffled the inscrutable Lucian Reed. Armed with Pixel’s laughably literal gaming guide, Leo Stone had mistaken this bloodstained world for an RPG—and Lucian for some quest-dispensing NPC.

​Countdown: 37:00:02​

KA-THUNK... KA-THUNK...

The sound reverberated through the prison’s bones.

Every inmate froze as the thirty-ton alloy gate groaned upward, gears shrieking in protest. Dust rained from the ceiling.

Revealed in the vaulted maw stood a prisoner flanked by twelve more Cyber-Wardens—their weapons humming at full charge. Nine drones hovered in kill-formation, laser grids crisscrossing the newcomer’s massive frame. Above, six Metal Tempests swiveled with predatory precision, rotary barrels spinning like industrial sawblades.

CLANG-SCREECH!

Alloy Shackles scraped concrete as the giant took his first step inside.

Elian’s breath hitched. He’d never seen a daytime solo transfer. Never witnessed Penitentiary-18 deploy such apocalyptic force.

Three thousand inmates collectively held their breath. The silence pressed like physical weight.

CLANK. CLANK. CLANK.

The shackled titan advanced, each step echoing like a funeral drum. He stood seven and a half feet tall, skin the texture of sun-cracked leather. Tribal black patterns coiled around his biceps and shaved scalp—primordial sigils that seemed to writhe in the flickering light. No cybernetics marred his flesh. No augments spoiled the brutal purity of muscle and bone.

Beside him, Evander Vale—the prison’s reigning behemoth—suddenly looked like a teenager. The giant’s eyes swept the tiers, dismissing armed guards and hardened killers alike. They lingered only when they found Lucian.

As the Cyber-Wardens retreated beyond the gate, they left the Shackles locked. The massive cat in Lucian’s lap went statue-still, golden eyes contracting to venomous slits.

​​"LUCIAN REED!"​​

The roar shattered windows fifty feet up. Inmates clapped hands over bleeding ears.

Elian instinctively shifted into a combat stance. Lucian merely offered a thin smile. "Even I didn’t anticipate such... enthusiasm." He gestured lazily. "Kuo Hu. You and Evander—fall back ten paces. This may get messy."

Evander’s eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly at the protective warning. Since when does he coddle anyone? The boss values this Thorne boy like a blood heir.

Nearby, Luther Ward stared at the tattooed skull, muttering: "Kuo Hu... They actually bagged the Barbarian King." His sausage fingers trembled. "No wonder the boss quoted ‘When rivers churn, fish rise.’"

Suddenly, Luther’s dull eyes widened. Elian hadn’t been idle these past days—playing chess, reading moldy books. He’d been waiting for Kuo Hu to storm in and churn the waters. Letting chaos flush out their prize... Bloody brilliant!In Luther’s starstruck mind, Elian Thorne transformed into a Master Strategist worthy of legend, playing a game where the board spanned dimensions.