The lights in the General Population Sector corridor flickered with an eye-straining rhythm, creating a stroboscopic effect that made the shadows on the steel walls look like dancing ghosts. The air smelled of ozone, cold sweat, and cheap disinfectant that failed to mask the scent of despair coming from its thousands of inhabitants.
Military boots clashed against the metal floor, creating an authoritative clack-clack-clack echo. Eira, the Elf officer with a lethal beauty, walked in front, her hips swaying with a rhythm deliberately made provocative. Meanwhile, Devon walked behind her, both hands tucked into the pockets of his orange jumpsuit, his face flat—as if he were taking a stroll in the park rather than being herded back to a monster's cage.
They had just left the chaos of the Central Plaza. Residual adrenaline from the encounter with Ikarin and Stormclaw still buzzed quietly in Devon's nerves, but now the grim reality of Block 12 welcomed him back.
Suddenly, Eira stopped short at a quiet corner of the corridor, far from the visual range of the surveillance drones patrolling other sectors.
Without warning, Eira whirled around. Her movement was quick and fluid, like a striking snake. Her right hand, clad in a black leather glove, gripped Devon's collar and slammed him against the metal wall.
THUD!
The sound of Devon's back hitting the wall echoed softly. He didn't resist, merely raising his left eyebrow with an expression of feigned boredom.
"You're quite aggressive today, Madam Officer," Devon muttered, his heterochromatic eyes—one pitch black, the other with a vertical blood-red slit—staring at Eira without fear. "Did I violate breathing protocols again?"
Eira didn't answer. She pressed her body closer, crowding Devon until no space remained between them. Her scent—a mix of cold lavender, gunpowder, and intoxicating pheromones—filled Devon's senses.
"Actually..." Eira whispered, her voice low and husky, a sharp contrast to her usually cheerful and sadistic tone. "I'd love to drag you to my office right now. Lock you in there. Examine you in more... detail."
Eira's long, slender index finger began to trace Devon's broad chest through the rough orange fabric. She could feel the contours of the hard, symmetrical pectoral muscles beneath. Her finger continued downwards, passing over a hidden six-pack, then trailed back up to his neck, finally resting on Devon's sharp jawline.
"Such a pity..." Eira sighed in disappointment, her warm breath sweeping across Devon's neck. "Damn protocols forbid me from bringing inmates to private zones without an emergency. So annoying."
Devon remained silent, letting the woman play her games. However, the red wings on the sides of his head twitched restlessly, betraying his composure.
Eira noticed that small reaction. She smirked, her sharp eyes studying Devon's face intently. She gently brushed aside the thick black bangs covering Devon's eyes.
"You know, Devon-kun..." Eira tilted her head, her gaze seeming to dissect Devon's skin layers. "In the registration data, it says you're seventeen. But..."
Eira's hand squeezed Devon's shoulder, feeling muscle density and bone structure unnatural for a normal human.
"This body... That empty stare of yours... The cold aura you radiate..." Eira brought her lips close to Devon's ear, whispering, "You don't look like a seventeen-year-old at all. You feel much... older. Much more primal than can be imagined."
Devon met Eira's eyes. for a moment, his stoic mask cracked slightly, revealing depths of immeasurable experience behind his pupils, as if he had seen stars born and die repeatedly.
"Appearances can be deceiving, Eira," Devon replied calmly, his voice flat yet carrying a heavy weight. "Sometimes, monsters disguise themselves as sheep. And sometimes, forgotten entities disguise themselves as prisoners."
Eira chuckled softly, clearly enjoying the wordplay. "You're making me even more curious."
However, the tense, intimate moment was shattered into pieces.
GRRRRRRRR...
A low, wet growl filled with hatred sounded from the end of the hall. A sound like a meat grinder chewing on bone.
Devon and Eira turned in unison.
At the end of the corridor, escorted by Officer Viper—a snake mutant woman with green scaled skin and a forked tongue—walked a figure that was all too familiar.
The Bulldog Mutant.
His condition was quite messy, though not as bad as Devon had imagined. White bandages were wrapped around his head, covering part of his forehead and right ear. His face was swollen in places with dark purple bruises, yet he still stood tall, radiating an aura of pure ferocity. He walked with both hands bound by heavy cuffs in front of his body.
The Bulldog's eyes locked instantly on Devon.
The world seemed to stop for the Bulldog. The pain in his body vanished, replaced by a single purpose: To Kill.
"YOU...!"
The Bulldog's roar thundered, making the corridor lights flicker.
Officer Viper yanked the leash chain on the Bulldog's neck. "Move it, Stupid Dog! Don't cause troub—"
CRAAAAAACK!
The sound of metal being forced to break rang out loudly.
With an explosion of absurd muscular strength, the Bulldog jerked both arms outward. The steel chains holding his wrists tensed, creaked, and then—SNAP!—shattered into pieces. Metal shrapnel flew into the air.
Viper stumbled back from the shockwave, eyes widening in shock. "What...?!"
Without wasting a second, the Bulldog lunged forward. He didn't run; he charged like a tank with no brakes. He slammed into the wall beside Devon, trapping him between his massive body and the cold steel.
BOOOM!
The metal wall dented inward from the impact of the Bulldog's massive, clawed palm. His foul breath, smelling of rotten blood and decayed teeth, washed over Devon's face. Thick saliva dripped from his lower jaw, trembling with rage.
"This isn't over, you Pansy..." the Bulldog growled, his voice wet and hoarse.
He brought his bandaged face close to Devon's. Devon could see the red veins in the monster's eyes pulsing madly.
"You think you won just because I passed out?" The Bulldog grinned maniacally, baring his yellow fangs. "Once I get out of medical supervision... I'll find a loophole. I'll destroy that pretty face of yours until your own mother won't recognize you."
His sausage-thick index finger poked Devon's chest roughly.
"I'll tear you apart... rip your skin off sheet by sheet... and eat every limb one by one while you're still breathing. Mark my words!"
The threat was no empty bluff. It was a promise from a beast that had lost its sanity. The killing intent he radiated was so dense it made the air feel heavy.
Devon didn't flinch. He stared into those crazy eyes with a calmness that bordered on insulting. However, inside, he was calculating. 'Physical strength increased. Is this a side effect of prison recovery drugs? Or an adaptive mutation?'
"Enough!"
A sharp hiss cut through the tension. Officer Viper, having regained her balance, raised a remote control in her hand. She pressed the red button violently.
ZZZAAAAP!
The shock collar on the Bulldog's neck lit up bright blue, sending thousands of volts of electricity directly into his nervous system.
"ARGHHH!" The Bulldog roared in pain, his body convulsing violently. He didn't fall, but his knees wobbled. He shot Devon one last glance—a look full of vindictive hatred promising hell—before finally being forcefully pulled away by Viper.
"Move! Or I'll crank up the voltage until your brain cooks!" Viper barked, dragging the monster away.
Devon let out a long sigh, straightening his collar which had been slightly ruffled by the wind from the earlier impact. He turned to Eira, who was standing beside him with her arms crossed, looking completely unbothered.
"Hey," Devon said, pointing at the Bulldog's retreating back. "You said earlier his mind was broken from cyborg torture. You said he'd become an obedient dog."
Eira shrugged, an innocent, sinless smile etched on her lips. "Ah... maybe I was misinformed? Or maybe he's the masochistic type who actually gets stronger when beaten? Who knows?"
Devon looked at Eira with a flat stare. "You did that on purpose, didn't you?"
"Come on, Devon-kun," Eira chuckled, patting Devon's cheek gently. "You made it out alive from Leviara the Head Warden's room. You can definitely handle a rabid dog, right? Just consider it training."
"Hmm... I'm not so sure," Devon muttered, though his eyes glinted coldly. "Rabid dogs usually have no fear. That's what makes them troublesome."