Chapter 238: The Underworld

The ride felt like it lasted forever, but when the car finally slowed and the tinted glass opened to a different world, Xavier leaned forward, eyes narrowing as he took it all in.

The underworld wasn’t anything like the city above. He had expected shadows, grit, the usual underground scene painted with smoke and whispers. But this? This was alive.

The streets were carved into wide arcs, glowing with veins of blue and red light that pulsed like living things. Buildings weren’t built in blocks like the Astraeus city, but spiraled upwards, glass and steel twined with crystal-like material that shimmered faintly under the dim glow of lanterns strung across the sky.

Strange beasts prowled at the edges, tamed yet proud, their eyes reflecting the lights like gemstones. Market stalls ran along the main roads, selling things that couldn’t even exist above—skins that shifted colors, fruits that dripped glowing nectar, weapons that hummed like they had souls in them.

Xavier stepped out of the car and caught himself staring longer than he meant to. “This… is way different than I imagined,” he muttered, almost to himself. “Hell, it’s even better than Astraeus in some ways.”

Viola gave a faint smile, watching the crowd that moved with purpose but no fear. “That’s because you’re looking at a world that doesn’t care about limits. Up there, you’ve got rules. Here, the only law is survival, and survival breeds beauty.”

Lyra tilted her head back, breathing in deep. The air was filled with spice, smoke, and something primal that made her lips curl in satisfaction. “Feels alive,” she said simply, tugging at the black outfit that still annoyed her. “Not fake like the city above.”

They walked deeper, the sound of drums and strings carried through the streets, blending with the buzz of voices in a hundred languages. Every corner felt like temptation, every shadow like it was watching them back. And as Xavier moved through it all, he couldn’t shake the strange pull in his chest. He’d grown up on the order and grand spectacle of Astraeus, but this place… this place had teeth. It had color, chaos, and a kind of freedom he didn’t even know he craved until now.

He glanced at Viola, then Lyra, smirk tugging at his mouth. “Alright,” he said, voice low. “Maybe I could get used to this.”

Two escorts in fitted black suits led Xavier, Viola, and Lyra down a glowing corridor, their footsteps muffled by velvet carpet. The auction hall itself was massive, almost cathedral-like, but instead of one big chamber, it branched into rows of private chambers, each sealed by sliding doors with glowing sigils above them. No one would sit in the open—everyone had their own room, their own view of the stage, their own privacy. It wasn’t just an auction; it was a theatre built for kings who didn’t like sharing space.

All three wore masks, gold-trimmed pieces that covered the upper half of their faces. Viola didn’t mind—it only added to her predatory mystique. Xavier wore his like a game. Lyra, though, tugged at hers every other step, eyes narrowing. “I hate this thing,” she muttered. “Feels wrong on my face.”

“Endure,” Xavier said with a smirk, repeating himself from earlier. “Think about the tasty food you will get to eat.”

They rounded a corner, and that’s when Xavier saw them—Jason and Angel. Even behind masks, he picked them out instantly. Jason carried himself with that rigid posture of a soldier, while Angel’s presence was like fire wrapped in silk. Xavier slowed, eyes flicking over them with quiet amusement.

Angel, on the other hand, didn’t recognize him right away. Her gaze slid past, dismissive. Xavier stepped closer and let his hand brush her hip, just enough to be intentional.

Angel froze. Her head snapped toward him, rage flashing in her eyes. For a split second, Xavier felt murderous intent from the entire floor. The entire air around them turned heavy, sharp, like blades waiting to cut. Viola even raised her chin, sensing the shift. Lyra was already tensing up, teeth showing faintly, prepared to strike anyone who dared to touch Xavier.

But then Angel’s gaze shifted past him, caught Lyra’s unmistakable figure, and her eyes widened. Recognition hit her like a wave. She turned back to Xavier. “…Xavier?”

He tilted his head, a grin cutting across his face. “Took you long enough. Thought maybe you liked being handled like that.”

Her eyes burned holes through him, but beneath that fire was something else—a spark of amusement she didn’t want to show. Jason frowned behind his mask, about to speak, but Angel cut him off. “I’ll go with him.”

Jason’s protest stuck in his throat. Angel didn’t look back at him; she just walked past and fell into step beside Xavier.

As the escorts led them deeper, Angel and Xavier traded remarks like knives. Viola walked silently, catching every nuance, while Lyra glanced between them with thinly veiled impatience.

Their private room opened with a soft hiss, and once inside, Xavier let out a low whistle. The place was indulgent to the core. Plush seats lined with fur, wine waiting in crystal decanters, the view of the main stage framed in golden arches. Everything screamed excess, luxury meant to remind you of power.

Xavier dropped into one of the couches and leaned back. He shot Angel a look through the low light. “Not bad, huh? Almost feels like home.”

Lyra tugged at her mask again, shifting it against her skin before finally asking, “Xavier, can I take this thing off now?”

He leaned back in his seat, smirking. “Yeah, go ahead.” He slipped his own mask off and set it on the table, then tilted his head toward Viola. She followed suit, her pale features catching the low golden light of the room.

Angel, though, didn’t move. Her mask stayed in place.

Xavier glanced at her. “What, you planning to keep it on all night?”

She shrugged lightly, her voice cool. “I don’t mind it.”

Xavier grinned and leaned forward. “I do.” Before she could stop him, his hand moved up, quick and easy, sliding the mask off her face. He studied her uncovered expression, that flash of irritation burning behind her eyes, and chuckled. “Much better.”

Angel opened her mouth to snap back, but Lyra cut across the moment. She tugged at the edge of her outfit with obvious discomfort and asked, “Can I take this off too?”

Xavier turned to her, brows raising. “No. Keep it on.”

Lyra groaned under her breath, but Viola stood and walked over to her. “I’ll help loosen it a little,” she said, resting a hand on Lyra’s shoulder before guiding her toward the side of the room. The two of them disappeared into the shadows near the divider.

That left Angel sitting stiff in her chair and Xavier stretched out on the couch, the space beside him wide open. He tilted his head toward it, wordlessly signaling her over. But she didn’t move.

He let the silence drag a moment, then smirked and palmed his crotch, pressing against the fabric just enough for the outline of his obvious hard cock.

Angel’s eyes flicked to it before darting away, but her body betrayed her. She rose from her seat and crossed the room, sliding onto the couch beside him.

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