Chapter 181: Back at the Penitentiary
The morning broke with a storm of flashing cameras and screaming headlines. Every news anchor, every channel, every livestream feed had the same centerpiece:
"Xavier to Give Official Statement Inside Celestial Penitentiary."
Reporters were camped outside the prison gates like vultures, fighting for position. Microphones shoved into passing officers’ faces. Helicopters circled overhead, capturing sweeping shots of the high-security facility as though it were the Coliseum before a grand spectacle.
"Ladies and gentlemen, this is unprecedented—Alexander Sterling himself processed and awaiting trial, and now the viral star at the heart of this firestorm, Xavier, has been summoned to testify," one anchor shouted over the roar of the crowd.
"The people want answers," another chimed in from a split screen, "and with Xavier’s reach in the millions, the whole world will be watching his every move. This isn’t just a legal statement—it’s history in the making."
On the streets, it was chaos. Xavier’s fans had turned the prison into a rally ground. Placards reading "Protect Xavier!" and "Death to Sterling!" bobbed above the crowd. Chants thundered through the barricades, echoing against the penitentiary’s steel walls. Riot police lined the sidewalks, trying—and failing—to contain the frenzy.
And through it all, the news scrolls and commentators hammered the same question again and again:
"What will Xavier say?"
Inside, Alexander was already aware of it. He watched the coverage from the cushioned chair in his "cell," jaw tight, blood boiling. The walls closed in a little tighter with every cheer outside.
Meanwhile, cameras switched to footage of a convoy pulling out from a discreet underground garage—sleek black cars, tinted windows, security escorts leading the way.
"Here he comes," the anchors all but screamed, "Xavier has left his residence and is en route to Celestial Penitentiary!"
The hype was no longer just news. It was a countdown.
Inside the armored convoy, Xavier sat slouched against the leather seat like he was on his way to a movie premiere instead of the most feared prison in the world. He had one arm draped lazily across the seatback, the other idly scrolling his phone. His feed was already flooded—millions of comments, edits, memes, even prayer circles for him.
Jason’s voice crackled through the secure earpiece. "They’re eating it up, kid. Every outlet, every underground board. You’re trending in sixty-three countries. Sterling’s face is everywhere too—usually next to the words execution or traitor."
Xavier smirked, flicking his thumb across the screen. "Good. Keep the fire burning. By the time I walk out of there, I’ll be untouchable."
Angel chimed in next from her end of the line, voice sharp but with a teasing edge. "Try not to act too smug on camera, Xavier. The martyr act doesn’t work if you look like you’re enjoying the chaos."
"Who said I’m acting?" Xavier replied, flashing a wolfish grin at his own reflection in the tinted glass.
The convoy passed through the city as the sound outside grew louder—masses chanting his name, signs and digital banners lit up like a festival. Riot police were stretched thin, more worried about protecting the penitentiary than suppressing the hysteria.
And then, the car began to rise. The convoy pulled into the docking lift at the city’s core—a colossal platform that carried them skyward toward the floating asteroid-prison looming in the clouds. The Celestial Penitentiary hung there like a chained god’s tomb, jagged stone wrapped in rings of metal infrastructure, floodlights scanning the night.
As they ascended, the whole city seemed to shrink below, the chants echoing even up here, carried on the wind.
Inside the car, Xavier’s eyes narrowed on the massive steel gates awaiting him at the docking bay. His fingers flexed against his knee like he was itching for the moment.
When the lift locked into place, the doors to the convoy opened. Blinding light hit him instantly—camera flashes, news drones hovering, microphones reaching like hungry mouths.
"Xavier! Xavier! Tell us what happened that night!"
"Are you afraid to testify against Alexander Sterling?"
"Do you believe your life is still in danger?"
The crowd’s roar nearly drowned out the officials shouting for order. But the cameras caught the perfect image—Xavier stepping out of the convoy, suit torn artfully from Lyra’s handiwork, faint cuts on his body, streaks of dried blood like battle scars. He looked fragile, human, wounded—yet the way he carried himself was the opposite: steady, confident, untouchable.
The penitentiary gates loomed open behind him, leading into the asteroid’s steel veins.
The world was watching, and Xavier knew it.
The steel jaws of the penitentiary swallowed him whole.
Xavier walked past the gates with cameras still snapping at his back, the floodlights throwing his shadow long across the polished alloy floor. The air inside was different—dense, metallic, humming with the low vibration of a dozen generators buried in the asteroid’s stone. The walls were carved from raw rock reinforced with steel veins, the perfect fusion of nature and cage.
He let out a low chuckle, almost to himself. "Second time in here..." His hand brushed against the cold wall as if reacquainting himself with an old enemy. "First time, I was chained, thrown in like trash. A number on their list. A criminal. A prisoner." He paused, his eyes lifting toward the towering guard towers embedded in the ceiling, where armored sentries tracked him with rifles. His smirk widened. "This time, the warden rolls out the carpet. The same guards that beat me down last time—they’re saluting me now."
The guards escorting him avoided his eyes, stiff, professional, but Xavier could feel their unease. They knew his name. They knew the storm he’d dragged into the world outside. Even here, behind the strongest walls ever built, he wasn’t the one caged. Everyone else was.
The corridors wound deeper, each step echoing like a drumbeat. Prisoners in reinforced glass cells pressed against the barriers, their faces lighting up as they caught sight of him. Murmurs rippled through the block like wildfire.
"That’s Xavier."
"No way... he came back here?"
"He’s walking free—free."
"Yeah," he muttered under his breath, smirking as his reflection slid across the glass. "Different doesn’t even begin to cover it."
At the end of the passage, a massive gate hissed open—beyond it was the actual prison grounds. Reporters weren’t allowed inside, but the whole world was watching through filtered feeds, the penitentiary’s own broadcast line.
Xavier met with Dominic, and he escorted Xavier to an enormous chamber where his statement would be recorded. And Alexander was already waiting inside.
Xavier sat face to face with Alexander.
"Let’s begin."