I Am the Devil of This Hell

Chapter 023

Kane Adler—formerly known as Julian Cross—walked out of the Command Tower and into the cold mountain air. He paused, looking back at the monolith one last time.

Four years.

That was the timeline. A countdown etched not just on a calendar, but into his very soul. That was the prison sentence—a death march for some, a purgatory for others—but for him? It was the key to the kingdom.

He turned on his heel, the adrenaline of the duel with Ethan slowly crystallizing into cold purpose, and headed back to the Cataclysm Block. The heavy steel gates parted for him with a metallic groan, almost bowing in reverence to the new order he was carving out.

"Boss. Brandon is dead."

The moment Julian stepped onto the concrete of the fifth floor, Rex Dalton was there to greet him. The Mad Tiger was leaning against the rust-streaked bars, his uniform dark with sweat and the gore of the battle.

His knuckles were raw, split open and red, but his voice was eerily steady. There was no boast, no triumphant roar, no maniacal laughter. It was just a simple, clinical report. A soldier reporting to his commander that the objective had been neutralized.

Julian nodded, his expression shifting by not even a millimeter. He was unsurprised. "Gather the seventeen," he said, his voice low but carrying the weight of a gavel strike. "We have work to do."

Rex paused, his eyes narrowing slightly. He sensed the shift in Julian’s demeanor immediately. It wasn't the hot rage of the fight anymore; it was something heavier, denser.

A mixture of crushing responsibility and a terrifying, cold resolve that felt like the pressure drop before a hurricane. Rex didn't ask questions. He didn't need to. He simply pushed off the wall and moved to execute the order.

Ten minutes later, the oppressive silence of the fifth floor was replaced by the disciplined shuffle of boots. The seventeen core members of the Shadow Eagle Clan assembled in the dim light of the common area.

They fell into formation without being told, their movements stiff from pain but driven by adrenaline.

Julian stood before them, scanning their faces one by one. They were a mosaic of violence—bruised cheeks, swollen eyes, split lips, and uniforms stained with the filth of the cafeteria floor. They were battered, broken, and bleeding. But they were standing. They were alive. And more importantly, they were waiting for his command.

"Someone came to see me just now," Julian said quietly. "Do you know who it was?"

Marcus Grady, still nursing his arm, grinned. "Let me guess. Boss's little girlfriend again? That Victoria Vance girl? I bet she brought some homemade cookies and—"

THUD.

Elias Thorne (Ghost Hand) drove an elbow into Marcus’s ribs, silencing him instantly.

"Shut up and listen," Elias muttered.

Rex Dalton’s eyes narrowed. He looked at Julian with intense focus. "Eagle… is it time?"

Julian looked at the confused faces of the others, took a deep breath, and smiled.

"It’s time," he said. "In fifteen days, we are leaving."

The silence that followed was absolute.

Then, slowly, realization dawned. Eighteen pairs of eyes ignited with a light so fierce it was almost blinding. It was the look of starving wolves seeing the cage door open.

"I promised you freedom," Julian said. "And now I’m delivering it."

The seventeen men exchanged glances, trembling slightly. Then, as one, they dropped to their knees.

THUD.

"We swear!" they roared, their voices shaking the walls. "We will follow The Eagle to the ends of the earth! We will never betray you!"

"Get up," Julian commanded gently. "The man who came today was Frank Sterling, Deputy Director of the National Security Bureau."

National Security Bureau? Deputy Director?

The men, still reeling from the promise of freedom, stared in shock.

"There is no such thing as a free lunch," Julian continued, his voice hardening. "We aren't just walking out. We are being deployed. We have a mission."

Rex Dalton chuckled, a low, rumbling sound. "Mission? Who cares? As long as we’re together, there is nothing we can't do. Name it, Boss."

"The mission," Julian said, his eyes gleaming, "is to conquer the underworld. Total domination."

He recounted Frank Sterling’s plan—the Domination Protocol, the competition, the ruthless timeline.

"The underworld?" Marcus whispered, a grin spreading across his face. "We’re going to be state-sponsored gangsters? Heh. Heh heh. I love it."

"A race against death," Jackson Hayes laughed. "My kind of game."

The room filled with eerie, bloodthirsty laughter. The scent of violence seemed to thicken in the air.

Rex stopped laughing first. His expression grew serious. "Eagle, playing with politicians is dangerous. 'When the birds are gone, the bow is stored.' We need to be careful they don't liquidate us once the job is done."

Julian smirked arrogantly. "It’s mutual exploitation. Who is the hunter and who is the prey? That won't be decided until the end of the game. And I assure you… we will be the ones holding the gun."

Dante Romero (Sky Dance) licked his lips. "The state is powerful, but it’s not a monolith. There are factions. If we play our cards right, we can survive the purge."

"Jackson," Julian said, turning to his lieutenant. "Old Man Sterling authorized me to take eighty men. We have eighteen here. What about the recruits from this morning?"

Jackson stepped forward. "Boss, out of the eighty-one recruits, fifteen managed to collect five heads. Eleven of them are practically uninjured—top-tier fighters. Rex and I decided to cut the four who took heavy damage. We only want the best."

Julian nodded. "Fine. That gives us twenty-nine. We need fifty-one more. I have the dossiers for every inmate in the East Wing—over two thousand of them. For the next ten days, I want you to comb through this list. The primary criteria is strength. I want a shortlist of three hundred. Then filter them for loyalty and character. Remember: we are monsters, but we must have humanity. We are returning to society, not just changing cages. Jackson, you handle this. Rex, Marcus, stay here and heal."

"Yes, sir!" they chorused.

"And one more thing," Julian added, stopping Jackson at the door. "The fact that we are leaving… don't announce it officially. But… let it slip. Leak it. Control the narrative."

Jackson grinned. "Understood, Boss."

That night, the East Wing—still reeling from the m******e in the stadium—was hit by another bombshell.

A rumor spread through the cell blocks like wildfire.

Did you hear? Julian Cross is actually a secret agent for the National Security Bureau. He’s here to recruit a special task force. If you get picked… you get a pardon. You get freedom.

No one bothered to fact-check. No one cared if it was logical. Because one word drowned out all skepticism.

Freedom.

For men who had resigned themselves to dying in a concrete box, that word was a d**g. It was oxygen to a drowning man. It reawakened souls that had been dead for years.

That night, two thousand murderers, thieves, and gangsters lay awake in their bunks, staring at the ceiling. They remembered what it felt like to be human. To walk in the sun. To eat a meal that wasn't slop. To have dignity.

They were tired of being animals in a cage. They wanted out. And the only key was Julian Cross.

The price of admission? Loyalty and Strength.

The next morning, the East Wing didn't wake up to the usual sullen silence. It woke up to a fever pitch. Prisoners skipped breakfast, gathering outside the Cataclysm Block, waiting for their savior.

But at 7:00 AM, Julian didn't appear.

Instead, Jackson Hayes walked out, holding a large sheet of red paper covered in black ink.

"Listen up!" Jackson shouted, his voice booming across the yard.

He held up the list.

"This list contains three hundred names. These are the three hundred strongest men in the East Wing, based on our intel. The Shadow Eagle Clan will select fifty-one new members from this list. Starting today, we begin the trials. Check the list. If your name is on it, get ready. We are offering you a miracle."

The crowd murmured, craning their necks to see the names.

Then, Elias Thorne stepped up beside Jackson. His stony face twisted into a cruel sneer.

"Of course," Elias said, his voice cutting through the noise like a razor, "there might be some of you who aren't on the list and feel… left out. Unfairly treated."

He paused, letting the tension build.

"So, we are offering an alternative path. If you believe you deserve a spot, prove it. You have five days. Kill anyone on this list. Bring us their head. And you take their place in the trials."

The yard went dead silent.

For thirty seconds, no one moved. Then, slowly, heads began to turn. Eyes filled with suspicion and murderous intent locked onto neighbors. The camaraderie of the prison evaporated instantly.

The list wasn't just a roster; it was a target.

But for a chance at freedom? For a chance to leave this hell?

It was worth it.