I Am the Devil of This Hell

Chapter 014

As Brandon roared defiance, thirty men from Terra Block surged forward with praetorian discipline. They formed a tight, defensive semi-circle around their leader—a wall of scarred flesh and denim—eyes locked on the predator perched on the table.

Rex Dalton, the Mad Tiger, crouched there with a terrifying casualness, looking down at them like a wolf contemplating a herd of nervous sheep.

Brandon’s crew displayed loyalty that was rare currency in the East Wing. Though terrified of the Mad Tiger, they stood their ground, fearing weakness before their "Mountain" more than the predator facing them.

In stark contrast, Landon Reeve’s faction disintegrated instantly. As the former champion’s body cooled, his soldiers averted their eyes, terrified of provoking Julian Cross. Landon had ruled solely through fear; with him extinguished, his empire evaporated like mist.

Rex Dalton tilted his head, a lopsided, demonic grin stretching across his face.

"You really want to roll the dice, Brandon?" Rex asked, his voice a low, gravelly purr that carried clearly across the silent cafeteria. "Do you want to see if you weigh enough to stop me from coming down there and ripping your throat out personally?"

Brandon stood firm. "You are a monster, Rex," he rumbled. "But you cannot kill me amidst my brothers without paying a steep price. You lack the weight to crush me today."

Rex laughed, l*****g his lips. He unleashed his aura of pure Bloodlust—a suffocating pressure that filled the room. As his crimson gaze swept the line of defenders, they flinched and retreated, primal instincts screaming at them to flee the apex predator.

"Brandon," Rex laughed, straightening up on the table. "Keep your head for now. I’ll come to collect it another day. A private session, just you and me. But today? Today isn't about you. I’m here to deliver a message."

Rex raised his arm, extending a finger.

Brandon took a deep breath, bracing himself. He watched the finger, expecting a specific challenge, a duel, something to settle the hierarchy. He glanced peripherally at Julian Cross, who stood motionless in the distance, an enigma wrapped in silence.

But Rex’s finger didn't stop at Brandon. It continued to rotate, tracing a slow, deliberate arc through the air. The tension in the room ratcheted up with every degree of movement. Who was the target?

Finally, the finger stopped. It pointed directly at a man standing near the exit, a man who had been watching the c*****e with a look of smug, self-satisfied amusement.

It was Lucas Bright, the leader of Radiance Block.

The grin on Rex Dalton’s face widened until it looked painful.

"Lucas!" Rex bellowed, his voice echoing like a judgment. "On behalf of The Eagle, I am issuing a formal challenge to Radiance Block. We are invoking the ancient law. A Hundred-Man War!"

A Hundred-Man War?!

The smirk vanished from Lucas Bright’s face instantly, replaced by a look of sheer, unadulterated shock.

Around the cafeteria, the other faction leaders froze. Nathan Black of Umbrage Block, Ethan Skyler of Aether Block, and Adrian Starr—they all stiffened, exchanging glances of disbelief.

In the Confinement Death Ward, human life was the cheapest commodity on the market. Skirmishes between the blocks were as common as breathing. Every day, men bled. Every day, bodies were dragged out to the incinerators. This place was a slaughterhouse, a dumping ground for society’s debris where outside laws were nothing but fairy tales. Here, the g**g rules were the only constitution, and the strong did what they wanted while the weak endured what they must.

But a Hundred-Man War? That was different. That was the nuclear option.

It was a gladiatorial tradition that dated back to the prison's darkest origins. It wasn't a skirmish; it was a campaign of annihilation. Each block would select one hundred of their most elite, most vicious killers. They would meet in a designated arena and engage in a fight to the finish. No time limits. No referees. No mercy. The battle would only end when the last man of the opposing side was either dead or kneeling in unconditional surrender.

And Rex had called for a "Public" war. That meant it wouldn't be a dark alley stabbing. It would be a spectacle held in front of the entire population of the East Wing—all four blocks, thousands of inmates watching the butchery.

Since the establishment of this facility, no block leader had been arrogant enough—or insane enough—to issue such a challenge so openly.

Rex Dalton truly deserved the title of Mad Tiger.

Lucas Bright’s face went pale. His mouth twitched uncontrollably. To be singled out first by this lunatic was the ultimate insult. Radiance Block was the second most powerful faction in the East Wing. Did they think he was prey?

But then Lucas looked at Rex’s massive physique. He looked at the c*****e on the floor where Landon Reeve lay dead. He looked at Julian Cross, standing calm and terrifyingly composed, flanked by the blood-soaked trio of Jackson Hayes, Marcus Grady, and Elias Thorne.

Lucas Bright fell silent.

He was trapped in a nightmare scenario.

If he refused? If he backed down now? He would be erased. In this prison, cowardice was a death sentence. His reputation would shatter, his men would desert him, and the other factions would descend like vultures to pick his bones clean. If you refuse a challenge, under the g**g rules, the challenger gains the right to decide your fate.

But to accept? Who in their right mind would want to walk into a meat grinder against these monsters? His men were loyal, but asking them to fight The Shadow Eagle Clan felt like asking them to march into a propeller.

Standing nearby, Nathan Black, the leader of Umbrage Block, was watching the scene with rapt attention. His thumb and forefinger began to rub together rapidly—a nervous tic he displayed whenever he was calculating probabilities. He looked at the sweating Lucas and the grinning Rex, and he saw an opportunity to twist the knife.

"Well, Lucas?" Nathan Black’s voice cut through the silence, dripping with venomous sarcasm. "What’s the matter? You’re the 'Duke,' aren't you? The leader of the second strongest faction? Surely you aren't scared of a little hundred-man skirmish? Don't tell me you’re going to let your reputation crumble in front of all the boys. Think of your legacy, old man."

Lucas Bright whipped his head around, glaring at Nathan with hatred burning in his eyes. "Nathan, shut your damn mouth! Don't stand there talking trash while you’re safe on the sidelines. When I win this—when I crush these upstarts—I’m coming for you next. We’ll settle our debts then."

"Prepare?" Nathan laughed, a harsh, barking sound that grated on Lucas’s nerves. "Hah! Worry about surviving the next two weeks first. According to the g**g rules, a Public War happens in fifteen days. Oh, I can’t wait. Is there anything sweeter in this miserable life than watching your rival shivering under the butcher’s knife? Hahaha!"

Nathan waved his hand dismissively at Lucas, turning his back on him. "Enjoy your final fortnight, Lucas. Bye-bye."

Watching Nathan Black strut away, laughing maniacally, Lucas trembled with rage. His fists clenched until his fingernails dug into his palms.

He turned back to Rex Dalton, his eyes flashing with a desperate, cornered fury.

"Fine!" Lucas shouted, his voice cracking slightly. "Radiance Block accepts your challenge! But listen to me, Rex. A tiger can’t fight a pack of wolves. Don't think just because you and Julian are tough that you can walk all over us. Even if I have to equip my men with iron teeth, I will tear you apart! Let’s go!"

He waved his arm frantically, signaling his lieutenants. "Move! We're leaving!"

With a mixture of anger and barely concealed fear, the entourage of Radiance Block hurriedly exited the cafeteria. Following their departure, Ethan Skyler, Brandon, and Adrian Starr exchanged significant glances before quietly leading their own factions out. The show was over. War had been declared.

Rex Dalton watched them leave, snorting in contempt. He hopped down from the table, landing with a heavy thud that shook the floorboards.

He turned to the confused, terrified inmates of Cataclysm Block who were still standing around, holding their trays, unsure if breathing was permitted.

"Eat! Eat!" Rex shouted, waving his arms expansively like a generous host at a banquet. "They aren't eating, so we eat! Look at all this food they left behind. It’s a sin to waste it! Hey, you! Grab those untouched fried eggs from that table and bring them here. I’m starving to death."

"Yes! Yes, sir!"

The four hundred inmates of Cataclysm Block scrambled to obey. They sat down and began to eat quickly and quietly, eyes fixed on their plates. The silence was eerie, broken only by the clinking of spoons and the chewing of food. They were eating in the presence of predators, surrounded by the smell of blood, but hunger—and fear—drove them on.

Clap. Clap. Clap.

A slow, rhythmic applause broke the strange domesticity of the scene.

"Wonderful. Truly wonderful."

The The Captain—the high-ranking senior officer who had authorized Landon’s execution of the rules—walked slowly toward Julian Cross, clapping his hands with a wide, plastic smile.

"I had no idea Cataclysm Block was hiding such dragons," the Captain said, his eyes gleaming with the excitement of a man who had just discovered a new prize fighter. "The Undying Fox, Cold-Faced Ghost Hand, and… Jackson Hayes, was it? Haha! An eye-opening performance. Truly spectacular."

Julian Cross wiped his mouth with a napkin and stood up, smiling politely, though his eyes remained as cold as a glacier. "You flatter us, Captain. If it’s not too much trouble, could we get a doctor down here? My brothers are injured."

"Haha! Of course, of course!" The Captain waved his hand magnanimously. "For the big battle in a month… wait, two weeks… I will make sure you get special treatment. I’ll send the best medics we have. We want a good show, after all. I’ll ensure both Cataclysm Block and Radiance Block are in top physical condition. We need to show the other three wings what the East Wing is capable of."

He leaned in closer to Julian, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, his breath smelling of expensive tobacco.

"If you need anything during this preparation period, just ask your block warden. He’ll help you out. Oh, and by the way… Landon Reeve is dead. A block cannot exist without a champion. In terms of strength, prestige, and ruthless efficiency, you are the obvious choice, Mr. Cross. So, from today on, you are the Master of Cataclysm Block. Keep your dogs on a leash, eh?"

The Captain patted Julian on the shoulder, laughed again, and walked out, flanked by his armed guards, leaving the new kings of the underworld to their breakfast.

Radiance Block, Cell 401.

The atmosphere in the cell was heavy, suffocating, like the air in a tomb before the lid is sealed.

Lucas Bright stood by the iron bars, staring out into the gloom of the corridor. His usually immaculate posture was slumped. He hadn't said a word since returning from the cafeteria. The silence stretched on, oppressive and terrifying.

"Silas," Lucas finally spoke, his voice raspy and hollow. "If you fight Rex Dalton… how many rounds can you last?"

Silas Carter, known as Ah Wu, was Lucas’s right hand and the top enforcer of Radiance Block. Since Lucas’s early days in the underworld, Silas had been his shadow, a loyal warrior who had fought back-to-back with him during the police raid that ended their criminal careers. Inside the Confinement Death Ward, Silas had carved out a reputation equal to Landon Reeve. He was a lethal fighter, feared by many.

But now, Silas’s usually stoic face was twisted into a bitter, helpless grimace.

"Boss," Silas said quietly, his voice laced with a despair he couldn't hide. "I don't want to sound like a coward, but… in two weeks, I’m not even sure if I’ll get the chance to fight Rex. You saw what happened today. Jackson Hayes, Marcus Grady, and Elias Thorne have completely submitted to Julian Cross. They aren't just subordinates; they are disciples."

Silas paced the small cell, counting on his fingers. "Just those three alone were enough to dismantle Landon Reeve. If I have to fight them… I probably won't last fifty moves against their combined assault. And if I do face Rex? Thirty moves. Maybe less. I will lose. I will die."

He paused, looking down at his scarred knuckles. "Without me holding the line, Ah Kun and the others won't be able to stop Rex’s s*******r. They are wolves, Boss. We are just dogs compared to them. And… we haven't even talked about the monster standing behind them all."

Lucas Bright felt a chill run down his spine. "The Blood Eagle…"

"Yes," Silas whispered. "Julian Cross. We haven't even seen him fight seriously yet. He is a nightmare."

Lucas Bright shuddered. He felt a sensation he hadn't felt in years: absolute, crushing despair. Even when the SWAT teams had surrounded his compound, he had felt defiant. He had felt like a king going down fighting.

But this? This was different. This was the realization that he was no longer the protagonist of his own story. He was just an obstacle to be removed.

"The Eagle… Mad Tiger… Jackson Hayes… The Undying Fox… Cold-Faced Ghost Hand…" Lucas muttered the names like a curse. "These guys aren't human. They are demons."

He turned to Silas, his eyes pleading for a different answer. "Do we… do we not have even a single slice of hope? Is there no strategy? No way out?"

Silas looked at his boss. He looked at the other lieutenants standing in the shadows of the cell. They all exchanged glances—glances filled with fear and resignation.

Slowly, painfully, Silas lowered his head.

The silence was the only answer Lucas needed. They were walking toward a cliff, and there was no bridge.