Chapter 50: The First Appearance of Prison Fire

The moon was bright and the stars were few, casting a silvery frost-like glow across the vast earth.

Inside an underground casino in the capital of Ireland, a steady stream of people came and went. Accompanied by the boisterous shouts of gamblers, the atmosphere was exceptionally lively.

Suddenly, three travel-worn figures burst into the casino. They hurried in, looking weathered and exhausted. Two of them were even dressed in military uniforms, appearing thoroughly out of place amidst the bustling crowd of gamblers.

"Gethin, are you certain this is the place?"

Among the trio, a tall, white-haired elderly man surveyed the chaotic, smoke-filled scene of the casino with a frown, glancing sideways at the thin, diminutive Black man beside him.

"Marshal Hawk, this is the place. There is no mistake!"

Facing the elderly man's skepticism, the diminutive Black man wore an expression of absolute certainty.

"What do you want?"

Sure enough, it was not long before the casino guards noticed these three anomalies. One of them stepped forward, staring at them with intense vigilance, his right hand subconsciously resting on the weapon at his waist.

"Hey... pal, don't be nervous. We mean no harm. I'm here to see Rant. Is he around?"

Observing the guard's wary expression, the short Black man immediately stepped forward, spread his hands, and asked with a smile.

"You're looking for Lord Rant? Please show us your invitation!"

Upon hearing the Black man's words, the guard's expression shifted from suspicion to surprise, and his hand slowly lifted away from his waist.

"We don't have an invitation, but we have this. Take this to him, and Lord Rant will naturally understand our purpose."

Pulling a pre-prepared business card from his pocket, the Black man handed it to the guard with a confident shrug.

"Very well!"

Taking the card from the Black man's hand, the lead guard turned to his subordinates and commanded, "You lot, keep an eye on them. I'll be right back!"

"Hey... guys, relax. We didn't come here to cause trouble."

The moment the lead guard left, the Black man flashed a overly familiar grin at the remaining guards who were glaring at them, stepping forward to strike up a conversation.

"Hey, darky, I advise you to behave yourself, and take your paws off my shoulder!"

Faced with the Black man's attempt to cozy up, the guard showed no appreciation whatsoever. Instead, he glared fiercely at the three of them with an expression of utter disgust.

"Alright, brother..."

Realizing his friendliness was unwelcome, the Black man retreated with a sheepish smile.

He cared little for the guard's insults; he had endured countless abuses of this magnitude since childhood. After all, in Europe, people of his skin color were hardly welcomed. Aside from verbal abuse, his slight stature meant he had practically been bullied all the way growing up. If he let every petty grievance upset him, he likely wouldn't have survived until today.

"Follow me, please. Lord Rant will see you!"

Before long, the lead guard returned. After handing the business card back to the Black man, he led the three of them to a private room at the back of the casino.

"Gethin, long time no see. What's this? Have you finally come to your senses and decided to join us?"

Inside the private room, a brown-skinned middle-aged man looked at the short Black man and asked with a full smile.

"No, brother, I've come seeking help this time, not to join you. I already belong to an organization!"

The Black man was clearly familiar with this middle-aged man. He pointed behind him to Marshal Hawk and Colonel James, offering an apologetic smile.

"Oh... that is truly a pity, brother. I'm afraid I cannot help you. You should know the rules of our organization quite well—we do not accept employment from governments!"

No sooner had the Black man finished speaking than the smile on the middle-aged man's face gradually faded. He spread his hands, indicating his complete powerlessness in the matter.

"Brother, this is a major deal. This gentleman is none other than Marshal Hawk, one of the three great pillars of the British Empire. I'm sure the leaders would be willing to give him some face. Could I trouble you to go in and announce us? What do you say?"

"No! I'm afraid I can't do that. It's not that I don't want to help you, brother. Without the leaders' summons, I have no authority to report information to them privately."

Faced with the Black man's proposal, the middle-aged man refused flatly, his tone resolute and leaving no room for negotiation.

Seeing the middle-aged man's unyielding stance, the three exchanged glances, their expressions growing increasingly gloomy.

...

"Very well, the leader has agreed to see you!"

Just as the three men were looking troubled, the middle-aged man's expression suddenly shifted. He stood up from his chair as if he had received some instructions, his demeanor instantly turning deeply respectful.

"Creeak..."

As the middle-aged man triggered a hidden mechanism on his chair, the floor of the private room slowly descended. Within moments, an underground chamber of extreme luxury revealed itself before them.

The basement centered around a massive round table surrounded by a ring of crimson leather sofas. Seated upon the sofas were two men and a woman, leisurely sipping fine red wine.

Among the three, occupying the main seat, was an elderly white man with graying hair, dressed in ancient attire. He possessed a sturdy build, and his emerald-green eyes stared fixedly at Marshal Hawk and his companions.

Seated on the left was a middle-aged gentleman in a tailcoat, leaning on a cane with a gentle smile on his face.

On the right sat a young, blonde-haired, blue-eyed beauty dressed in sheer gauze. Her curves were voluptuous and striking, exuding an air of languid indolence with every gesture, much like an alluring golden-furred cat.

"Marshal Hawk, we are already aware of your purpose here. Please, take a seat!"

Gazing at Marshal Hawk and the other two, the elderly white man at the head of the table slowly stood up, nodded toward them, and spoke.

"Since you already know my purpose, I won't beat around the bush. You must have some understanding of the evil deity entrenched in London. Name your price—whatever reward you require, just name it."

Marshal Hawk was not surprised by the elderly man's words. Mutants possessed all sorts of abilities, so foreseeing their intentions was nothing out of the ordinary.

"Pardon my bluntness, but the reward we require is something the Marshal likely cannot provide. You must realize that you have now become stray dogs, and the British Empire no longer has any place for you. How can you expect us to believe you?"

Hearing this, the blonde woman wore a faint, mocking smile, her face filled with derision.

"Please rest assured of this. As a Marshal of the British Empire, I have never once considered turning traitor. As long as you all assist me in eradicating that evil deity, I will spare no effort to fulfill your demands!"

Facing the blonde woman's mockery, Marshal Hawk remained unperturbed. As a national marshal, personal honor and disgrace had long been cast to the back of his mind. In his heart, as long as the British Empire could be saved, he would not hesitate for a second, even if it cost him his life—let alone a few taunts.

"I assume the Marshal is a sensible man. What we require is not empty promises, but tangible benefits. As long as you can persuade Her Majesty the Queen to assist us in rebuilding our headquarters in London and provide a series of manpower and material resources, we can immediately assemble our people and help the Empire banish the evil deity!"

Seeing that Marshal Hawk did not take offense, the middle-aged white man in the tailcoat chimed in.

"I believe you are well aware of my current circumstances."

"I cannot meet your demands at present. London has been reduced to ruins, and the Empire's highest leadership is completely under the control of the evil deity. However, I can promise your conditions on behalf of the Empire: once you help me eliminate the evil deity, I will do everything in my power to secure all the manpower and resources you need."

In truth, Marshal Hawk could not fathom what these individuals truly wanted. Given that they clearly understood his plight, how could they possibly make such demands?

Though their ultimate objective remained a mystery, Marshal Hawk was not worried that the negotiations would break down over this.

If they had no intention of helping him, he likely wouldn't even have been granted an audience. Since they agreed to see him, half of the negotiation had already succeeded.

"Oh... good grief, you can bring nothing to the table. Do you seriously expect to persuade us with just words alone..."

"Hathaway, you gave me your word!"

Seeing that the blonde woman was not going to let the matter drop, the elderly white man seated in the center immediately spoke up to cut her off.

"Fine... Coven! But remember, you owe me a massive favor for this!"

Meeting the stern look in the elderly man's eyes, the blonde woman reined in her petty thoughts, shrugged, and said with helpless resignation.

"Marshal Hawk, we can help you drive away that evil deity, but you must promise me this: once the deed is done, I want the British Empire to cease all hostility toward the vampire and werewolf races forever. Furthermore, you must provide the Hellfire Club with thirty years of research funding. What do you say? If you can agree to this, we will immediately begin preparations for the operation!"

Having placated the blonde woman, the elderly white man fixed a solemn gaze on Marshal Hawk and spoke.

"No more targeting the vampire and werewolf races?"

Upon hearing these words, Marshal Hawk's expression underwent a rapid transformation, filled with unmistakable hesitation.

In his heart, the vampires and werewolves were tumors upon the British Empire—targets he wished to eradicate above all else. How could he possibly let them off so easily?

"Very well, I can agree to it. But you must first guarantee that these two dark races will never again interfere in human affairs, nor shall the size of their populations be allowed to expand further."

Reluctant though he was, when he considered the current plight of the British Empire, Marshal Hawk had no choice but to agree.

"Please rest assured, Marshal. I will strictly order them to abide by the laws of the Empire and ensure they never commit any acts detrimental to Britain."

Seeing Marshal Hawk yield, the elderly white man finally let out a breath of relief. For centuries, he had worn himself out cleaning up after his descendants.

"Marshal, you may now return to the British Empire to gather intelligence for us. The spiritual perception of the evil deity is far too sensitive, and our people dare not approach London lightly. The task of gathering intelligence now rests upon you. On our end, we will actively prepare for battle, and the moment an opportunity presents itself, we will deliver a fatal blow to the evil deity."

With the terms settled, the elderly white man immediately assigned Marshal Hawk his mission, pulling a bat-shaped ring from his pocket and handing it to him as a token of contact.