Blood dripped from Jason's nose and the corner of his mouth.Carl's lip was split, a line of red trailing down his chin. Their cheeks darkened with bruises, and their breathing came in heavy, unsteady bursts.Leon walked over slowly, looking down at Jason like he was just another piece of trash on the road.

"So," Leon said, voice calm, "still gonna beat the shit out of us?"

Jason glared up, tried to speak, but his words came out mixed with blood and air.

Daniel stood over Carl with that same bright smile, though his eyes were sharp."Business done," he said simply.

Carl tried to get up, but his arms shook. His legs didn't fully listen.

Leon and Daniel shared a look, not needing words.

They had humiliated them.

Not just beaten them.They broke their pride, broke their stance, broke the fake confidence they had walked in with.

Carl and Jason were left bruised, coughing, bleeding from the mouth, surrounded by their own knocked-out men — a pile of failure in the alley they once walked through with swagger.

And the chapter ends there —with Leon and Daniel standing tall, breathing steadily, while the so-called bosses of the area lie broken at their feet.

The scene shifts to Arthur.

He steps through the wide front gate of the building with a face so calm it becomes impossible to read. His eyes don't dart around like someone sneaking in. He doesn't look tense or pumped with adrenaline. He walks like a man who has already accepted whatever comes next and decided it is beneath him.

The guards at the gate stiffen when they notice him. One of them tries to act brave. He steps forward, planting a hand in Arthur's path."Hey, who are yo—"

Arthur's fist shoots out before the guard can finish the sentence. A simple jab. Short. Sharp. Straight from the shoulder. The knuckles sink into the guard's cheek, and the man's body twists backward as if someone yanked him by the collar. He smacks the ground and stays there.

Another guard panics. His breath catches, and he swings at Arthur's head with the full weight of fear rather than technique. Arthur tilts himself half a step sideways, barely moving his feet. His counter jab sinks into the man's ribs. The guard's breath collapses in his chest, and he drops to his knees gasping like a fish pulled from water.

Three more guards exchange looks. Their eyes shake. Fear crawls up their necks. But pride pushes at least two of them to rush forward together. They yell for courage, hoping the noise hides how scared they are.

Arthur doesn't change expression. His fist cracks into the first one's nose. A loud snap echoes. Blood sprays. The guy falls instantly. The second tries to grab Arthur from behind, arms hooking around his upper body, but Arthur reacts like he has done this a thousand times. He reaches back, hooks the guard's arm, twists his weight, and flips him clean over his shoulder. The man hits the ground so hard the air bursts out of him.

Another guard turns to run. His feet slip on the gravel, and he sprawls forward. The last one backs away with trembling hands, shaking his head.

Arthur doesn't chase.He doesn't even spare them a glance.

He just walks forward with the same slow, steady steps, like he is walking a corridor he has walked before. Nothing about the fight changes his breathing.

Inside the building the lights flicker weakly. Some corners sit in dim shadows. The hall smells faintly of mold mixed with sweat and something metallic, maybe rust. The silence inside feels heavier, like the air is waiting for something.

Arthur moves toward the meeting point. His shadow stretches and shrinks under the flickering lights. His shoulders remain loose, hands relaxed at his sides. He seems almost bored, though there is a quiet storm behind his eyes.

Before he reaches the entrance to the left hand man's room, someone steps out.

A man blocks the hallway, standing with casual confidence. His build is sharp. Balanced. No wasted muscle. His presence alone is enough to mark him as dangerous. Arthur recognizes him immediately. He is the head of the small club Ryan cleared earlier. Not the vice head. The real deal. The main executive. And an S rank fighter.

The man smirks."Well, well, well. Look who it is."He studies Arthur like he is inspecting a weapon."The Arthur Kane of West High, huh? What are you doing here, Arthur?"

Arthur stares back, face unreadable. Silence answers for him.

The man takes a step closer. His smile widens. "Did the cat get your tongue?"

Arthur finally speaks. His tone is calm and bored."I don't see any outcome where telling you why I'm here helps me."

The man chuckles. He turns his back slightly, as if ending the conversation. His shoulders shake like he finds something amusing. But then he spins around suddenly, faster than a blink, and throws a punch aimed at Arthur's jaw.

Arthur raises his arm and blocks it clean. The impact thuds against his forearm, but Arthur doesn't step back. His expression doesn't change. Immediately after, he counters. A direct punch straight to the man's jaw. The hit snaps the man's head to the side.

He steps back with wide eyes. "I didn't expect you to block that. Did you get stronger than the last time you fought us?"

Sweat forms on his forehead. He is breathing harder now, shoulders rising and falling rapidly.

He lunges again, using a low roll toward Arthur's waist, trying to sweep him off balance with a move meant to surprise. Arthur reacts without effort. He grabs the man's legs mid roll, lifts him by the thighs, and throws him across the hallway. The man crashes onto the floor, letting out a deep grunt.

Arthur doesn't slow. He follows, stepping forward with calm precision. He throws a cross at the man's jaw. The man barely blocks it, but the force rattles his whole body.

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