“Burn them alive! Bathe them in the glory of the Great Phoenix!”

- Captain Tent, Commander of the 4th Imperial Incinerator Company. 

It turned out that Del had been in Darkbane Prison for quite a while. Once he swore his oath to Alexander and became his underling, he told the young Wolf everything he needed to know about the rules in the prison, both the obvious ones and the unspoken ones. 

The guards of the prison offered the inhabitants of the cells quite the freedom. Their physical presence within the halls of the prison districts was minimal. There were rarely any patrols or sentries. As a matter of fact, most of the time the prison security forces simply sat in their resting areas and kept an eye on the cell halls through the net of security cameras that covered all the open space in these halls. The guards would deliver food into the cells once every unspecified period of time. Other than that, it was free reign within the cells. 

Of course, that didn't mean the prisoners would have ample opportunities to flee their cells. For one thing, all the cell doors were electrified. One touch, and the foolish prisoner would be knocked out. Hold onto the bars, and the hand would be toast. Making things even worse was that the guards would be notified whenever the doors were touched, and in a few minutes, a squad of fully armed and armored guards could be down here with shotguns and riot shields. 

Escaping via the other walls was even more impossible. What could the prisoners do? Dig a hole through countless meters of concrete? And that was just the cell. If getting out of the cell was difficult, then getting off the island after that was impossible. 

The designers of the whole prison system were well taught in the art of torment, especially psychological torment. The only times the prisoners were taken out of their cells were for their interrogations, medical checkups, and when they were transferred, and they would be under heavy guard in all three cases. In other words, the prisoners would spend nearly all their time in the cell with no way to tell the time. Hours would become days, which would then become months and years. In an environment like that, weeks could feel like an eternity. 

Sure, the prisoners were thrown into cells in pairs, but even that was designed to break the minds of the prisoners and either to get them to confess or simply to make them suffer. Most of the prisoners here were desperate, vicious individuals, only arriving at this facility because they were too dangerous for other prisons. What would they do to their cellmates? Play cards? Talk? No...most of them would try to beat the shit out of their cellmates...or worse, like what Del tried to do to Alexander. 

To make things somehow even worse, the guards would frequently and at irregular intervals swap prisoners and cells. This also changed the power dynamic in the cells. Perhaps one day you were the tougher son of a bitch in the room, and the next day you might be the punching bag of a man twice your size. It kept everyone on their toes, fearful and terrified. 

It also helped ensure that if anyone did have a way of digging out of their cells, they would be facing a world of disappointment.

As Del finished his explanation, Alexander was deep in thoughts. The frequent swapping of prisoners and the lack of order within the prison gave him an opportunity. Sooner or later, either he or Del would be moved to another cell, which meant both of them would have new cellmates. As agents of Agony, the two of them had superhuman strength, reflexes, and endurance. This meant they could easily cripple their new cellmates...and do what Alexander first did to Del. 

Convert them by force. Swear the oath, or die. It was only certain that most would elect to bend the knee.

What made this easier was the presence of the psychic connection between Alexander and his agents. Neither the concrete walls nor the electrified doors could prevent him from making contact with, essentially, everyone in the prison in his service. He could easily maintain the chain of command without having to utter a word. 

If this plan went well, it could exponentially increase the number of agents of Agony under Alexander’s command. Perhaps he could even take over the mind of every single one of the 3,000 prisoners here, but...and then what? 

Alexander wasn’t too familiar with what the Essence of Agony could do. He knew they could make the users faster and stronger, as well as heal their injuries, but none of that would do too well against the Darkbane Prison Security Forces. The security forces might be outnumbered 2 to 1, but their firearms and tactical advantages meant they could mow down prisoners in their cells without breaking a sweat. 

Alexander only had one shot. Miss this shot, and he would go to the grave as a failure. That was unacceptable.

Alexander held his fists tight as he sat on one of the poorly crafted beds in the cell. He could distinctly smell the reek from the toilet in the corner, which made his stomach turn. Being in the cells was the first time in his life where he had been in a situation like this. Reek? Even the bathrooms in his father’s mansion smelled like a garden! The young man gritted his teeth in frustration before turning and sending his fist into the concrete wall of the cell. He punched with his full strength as if the wall was the face of one of the traitors. 

The rash action from him accomplished nothing more than put him in a world of pain. Almost as soon as the fist made contact, Alexander heard the sound of bones cracking. He glanced at his hand, where three fingers were twisted in an unnatural form. He felt his body shaking in pain, but he also felt a small cold smile climb onto his face as he felt more strength concentrating within his body. 

“Do you know how long the next swap will be?” He asked without turning. As he spoke, his eyes were trained on his fist. A flow of Essence of Agony flowed to that limb and started to heal it. Alexander watched as flesh mended and bones grew back into place. It was quicker than anything even the top medical devices in the Empire could achieve. 

“No, my Lord. The guards move the prisoners randomly. It may be today. It may be in a week...not that we would ever know given the lack of clocks around here.”

“Understood.” Alexander nodded. His fist had healed itself already. The healing process took some of the Essence of Agony, but there were still some of that power left in Alexander after he first punched the wall. The Lord of Agony silently dispersed that power within his body and felt it circulating inside him, enhancing his flesh and bone alike. 

“Keep an eye on the halls. If the guards approach, alert me.” 

He dropped another order to Del before raising his fist and punching the wall again, leaving another bloody mark on the concrete surface.

As the Warden of the Darkbane Prison, Henry Locke had quite the space in the incarceration facility dedicated to him. Aside from a 200 meter squared living quarter, he also had a large office room in the heart of the 1st District. 

When he wasn’t at the Command Center talking to the other managers and commanders of the island, he resided in the office most of the time, where his secretaries aided him in managing the day-to-day events within the prison. 

5,000 people didn't sound like a lot in the modern age, not when most habitable planets usually held billions of people. Still, there was a surprising amount of affairs for the Warden to deal with, from reading the reports on the inventories of the armory and the warehouses to confirming the disciplinary actions of guards and prisoners alike who broke the rules. As the Warden, Locke made twenty times more than the basic guards, which was why it was only appropriate for him to be working a lot more than the foot soldiers. 

This was a common scene through the Holy Phoenix Empire. Those who had more privileges tended to hold more responsibilities.

Locke sighed and signed his name on a disciplinary action request file. He gave the page another quick glance to check for typos before gently placing it on a pile of papers on the side of the table. Now that the work was done for the moment, Henry laid back into his comfortable seat and closed his eyes, giving himself a brief moment of rest. 

He hadn’t slept well in the past few days. Whenever he closed his eyes, he could hear the screams of his colleagues as they burned. Innocent people, sentenced to death on suspicions. To say he was content with what happened would be a lie, yet there was nothing the man could do but lower his head and submit to the new tyranny that was Count Lamb. 

The new Count saw what he did in his new Countdom as normal, and things like these were indeed standard in the Holy Phoenix Empire in general, but for the common people who actually witnessed the atrocities, this was the darkest time they have ever gone through. Many of them missed the days when Lord Wolf ruled, but none of them dared give voice to their thoughts. Not when doing so meant being next on the chopping block. 

The air conditioning in the room made Henry relax a little. Valorian had always been a cold place. Even after planetwide terraforming, the temperature was still at around 20 imperial degrees at most times. This made the habitants of the planet almost impervious to cold. The temperature in the office right now was around 18 imperial degrees, and that was just perfect for the Warden. 

Suddenly, Henry heard a knock at the door. 

“Warden Locke?”

“Come in Sasha.” Henry replied as he opened his eyes and sat back up. Regardless of how tired he was, he had to appear dominant in front of his subordinates. That was leadership 101. 

The door was pushed open and a young woman in her twenties walked in. She wore a black uniform, which was the standard uniform for employees attached to Darkbane Prison that weren’t a part of the security forces. She had a pen attached to a pocket on her pants. She was the Warden’s secretary.

“Warden.” She greeted her superior with a polite smile. 

“I hope you are not here to bring me another stack of files to sign.” Henry groaned sarcastically. “Sometimes I just wish the managers of each department could just make their own decisions and not ask permission from me for every damn detail!” 

There was a difference between looking tired and making jokes. Looking tired was a sense of weakness, and weakness could not be tolerated. Being sarcastic, on the other hand, served to help the subordinates loosen up in front of him. It was good for morale. This was something Locke learned during his time as an Imperial Marine. Also, the officers who got along with the common troops tended to last longer. 

Sasha stood there and made no reply. She simply smiled. As a professional, she knew that for someone in her position it was neither appropriate to agree with the Warden or argue against him. It was better to just be quiet. 

Finally, Henry moved back to the topic. 

“So, what is it?”

“There has been a communication request, sir.” Sasha explained quickly and concisely. “We received a message from the mainland. The security code corresponds...the security code corresponds to ONI.” She paused near the end, her voice couldn’t help but shake a little in fear. The woman took a few moments to recollect herself before continuing.

“The Vice Warden is on his way to the communication chamber already.”

Henry frowned. The Darkbane Prison was isolated from the rest of the planet. For security reasons, the only electronic hardware on the island capable of communicating with the outside world was a Computing Interface. This Computing Interface could only be used to contact a fixed set of military or government channels. 

More importantly, unless certain emergency protocols were triggered, two security codes were required to receive an incoming message. One from Warden Henry Locke, and another from Vice Warden Jason Stone. This made sure that even if any unauthorized personnel managed to gain access to the encrypted security network, their message would only be seen by two of the highest-ranking Imperial individuals on the island. 

At the same time, either of the two could individually send a message out, since the designers of the protocols believed receiving compromised messages were riskier than sending out unauthorized information. Perhaps they were right and perhaps they were wrong, but the rules stood. 

Yet the news that it was ONI that sent the message didn't bring Henry any reassurance. In fact, it got him very concerned. The last time he received a message, squads of ONI forces took over the facility and burned dozens of suspected traitors. What was going to happen this time? 

Another cleansing? Or...or even worse?