Rise Of The Underworld King

Chapter 7

"Are you ready to lose your life, little boy?" Raymond asked as he opened the heavy steel door of the octagon cage.

"I am ready whenever you are," Ethan answered calmly, stepping on the black canvas mat with his hands relaxed.

"You really have no idea what kind of monster you are facing," Raymond muttered to himself with a cruel grin, rolling his muscular shoulders until the joints popped loudly.

"We will see who the monster is soon enough," Ethan said, turning to face him with a peaceful expression.

The heavy steel door of the cage swung shut with a loud metal clang. A private referee in a black shirt locked the outer bolt, leaving the two men alone inside the enclosure.

Raymond kicked off his white designer shoes, tossing them against the mesh wire. He stood barefoot on the canvas, bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet as his sharp, predatory eyes locked on Ethan.

A dark, vicious smile spread across Raymond's face, his lips pulling back to reveal his teeth. He wanted to see fear in Ethan's eyes, but Ethan simply stood in the center of the ring, looking back at him as if he were waiting for a cup of tea.

"You think you are brave, don't you?" Raymond sneered, circling slowly to the left while keeping his guard raised. "You think having a little bit of grip strength makes you a real fighter."

Ethan did not move from the center.

"A real fighter does not need to talk so much before a match."

Raymond let out a low, mocking laugh, shaking his head with arrogance. "Let me tell you something about this cage, beggar. I did not learn my martial arts in some fancy, clean gym with soft mats and rules."

Ethan remained quiet, watching Raymond's footwork with his observant eyes.

"I spent five years fighting in the underground blood rings across the border," Raymond continued, his voice dripping with cruelty as he tried to get inside Ethan's head. "No gloves, no weight classes, and no referee to save you when your head is bouncing off the concrete floor."

"Is that supposed to impress me?" Ethan asked in an even, unbothered tone.

"In those five years, I put thirty-two professional fighters into wheelchairs for the rest of their lives," Raymond boasted, his eyes glowing with sadistic pride. "And seven men never walked out of the cage alive after stepping in front of me."

Raymond stopped his footwork for a moment, leaning forward slightly.

"Do you know what it sounds like when a man's collarbone snaps in half, Ethan? It sounds just like a dry tree branch breaking in the winter."

Ethan did not blink.

"I have seen the floor covered in so much red blood that the fighters could not even stand up without slipping," Raymond whispered, trying his best to paint a terrifying picture of violence. "I have broken jaws, shattered elbows, and torn ligaments with my bare hands. When I hit someone, they do not just fall down. They pray for death."

Ethan looked at Raymond's excited, boastful face and let out a soft, tired sigh. "Are you finished with your bedtime story, or do you have more fairy tales to tell?"

Raymond’s wicked smile instantly vanished, replaced by an ugly scowl of frustration. He had expected Ethan to turn pale, to start sweating, or to look desperately toward the locked cage door for a way to escape.

Yet, Ethan stood there looking completely bored, as if he were listening to a child read a simple picture book.

Raymond felt a surge of anger rise in his chest. He took two aggressive steps forward, lowering his head until his lips were only inches away from Ethan’s ear.

"Listen to me very carefully, you worthless piece of trash," Raymond hissed in a venomous whisper that only the two of them could hear. "You are going to walk away from Angela Miretti the second this door opens, do you understand me?"

"Angela has made her own choice," Ethan replied, not backing away.

"Angela is not a woman a street beggar like you can ever touch," Raymond growled, his fists clenching so tightly that his knuckles turned white. "Her family controls half the wealth and power in this city. A girl of her status belongs to me and my family, not to a homeless orphan who wears cheap coats."

"Status means nothing when a person lacks basic human decency," Ethan said calmly.

"You think you are being clever?" Raymond sneered, his breath hot against Ethan’s cheek. "Even if I decide not to snap your neck in this cage tonight, do you think Angela’s father will let you live? Franco Miretti is the most ruthless mafia lord in the entire province! The moment Franco finds out a broken nobody is touching his precious daughter, he will have his men tie concrete to your feet and drop you into the deepest part of the bay!"

"I am not afraid of Franco Miretti," Ethan said. "And I am certainly not afraid of you."

"You arrogant little bastard," Raymond hissed through his teeth, stepping back to take his fighting stance. "I am going to make you swallow your own teeth for saying that."

Outside the heavy wire mesh of the octagon cage, Angela Miretti stood with her hands clenched tightly against her chest, her knuckles pale with anxiety.

Her heart was pounding violently against her ribs, every second feeling like an eternity as she watched the two men talking inside the cage. She knew how cruel and merciless Raymond was, and she knew that Raymond would not hesitate to permanently cripple Ethan just to satisfy his wounded pride.

"This is all my fault," Angela muttered to herself in a panicked voice, her eyes darting across the room. "I should have never brought him here. I should have never asked him to be my shield."

She quickly reached into her small evening purse, pulled out her smartphone, and began rapidly typing her father’s private phone number into the keypad.

"I have to call my father right now," Angela said aloud, her fingers trembling as she hovered over the green call button. "Only my father has the authority to make Raymond back down before someone gets killed."

Before her thumb could press the screen, a slender hand with silver-painted fingernails suddenly reached out and grabbed Angela’s wrist, forcing the phone down.

Angela turned her head sharply, her eyes flashing with anger. "Emily! What are you doing? Let go of my hand!"

"Angela, have you completely lost your mind?" Emily demanded, pulling Angela away from the edge of the cage with a stern look on her face. "You cannot call your father right now!"

"Are you insane, Emily?" Angela shouted in a low, furious whisper, trying to pull her arm free. "Raymond is going to kill Ethan in that ring! You know what Raymond does to his opponents! I have to get my father to stop this madness!"

"If you call your father, you will only make things ten times worse for that beggar," Emily argued back. "Think about who your father is, Angela. Franco Miretti has spent his entire life building the most feared syndicate in the province. He values our family's reputation and honor above everything else in this world"

"My father is not a monster!" Angela yelled, tears of frustration gathering in her eyes.

"Your father expects you to marry a top-tier heir from a powerful family to secure our business alliances," Emily said, gripping Angela’s arm tighter. "If Franco finds out that you brought a penniless, jobless orphan to this formal party and announced him as your boyfriend in front of two hundred wealthy guests, what do you think he will do?"

"Give me my phone, Emily".

"Your father will not save Ethan, Angela," Emily said with certainty, looking directly into Angela’s worried eyes. "Franco will see Ethan as a filthy insect who dared to ruin the Miretti family's proud name. If Raymond doesn't break Ethan’s legs tonight, your father’s enforcers will hunt Ethan down by tomorrow morning and end his life".

Angela stared at her best friend. She knew her father’s strict, unyielding nature better than anyone. Franco Miretti did not tolerate disrespect, and he certainly would not accept a plain, unknown man standing beside his only daughter.

"So what am I supposed to do?" Angela cried softly, looking back toward the cage with terror in her eyes. "Am I just supposed to stand here and watch Ethan get beaten to death because of my stupid mistake?"

"It is his own fault for being so arrogant!" Emily scoffed, turning her head to look at Ethan with disdain. "He could have apologized to Raymond. He could have walked out of the hotel when you told him to leave. Instead, he wanted to act like a big hero and accepted the challenge. He dug his own grave, Angela. You need to let him face the consequences."

All around the perimeter of the octagon, dozens of wealthy young masters, businessmen, and syndicate leaders were gathered in tight circles, holding glasses of liquor and laughing loudly.

None of them showed the slightest bit of concern for the young man in the plain black coat. To them, this was nothing more than an exciting, violent sideshow to spice up their evening of drinking and business networking.

"This is going to be hilarious," a young heir in a tailored gray suit chuckled, swirling the ice in his whiskey glass. "Raymond has not fought in public for three months. That poor guy has no idea what kind of meat grinder he just stepped into."

"I give the beggar thirty seconds," another man laughed, leaning against the metal railing. "Raymond will probably throw a low kick to break his knee, and then finish him with a right hook to the jaw. It will be over before the referee even breaks a sweat."

"Thirty seconds? You are being way too generous, Frank," a third businessman sneered, shaking his head with a mocking grin. "I say the kid drops in ten seconds flat. The moment Raymond lands one solid punch to his stomach, that boy will be rolling on the canvas, crying for his mother and begging for his life."

"Let us place a bet on it!" a loud voice shouted from the back of the crowd. "Five thousand dollars on Raymond knocking him out in the first minute!"

"I will put ten thousand in thirty seconds!" another guest chimed in with excitement, pulling out a thick roll of hundred-dollar bills. "Who wants to bet that the kid leaves this room on a hospital stretcher?"

"I bet he begs on his knees before the first round even ends!"

The mocking laughter, the cruel bets, and the loud cheers of the crowd echoed through the spacious sports pavilion.

Every single word felt like a sharp needle piercing straight into Angela’s heart. She felt sick to her stomach, her hands shaking uncontrollably as she looked at Ethan standing quietly inside the cage.

"Stop it! All of you, shut up!" Angela yelled at the top of her voice, turning toward the laughing crowd with fury. "This is not a game! Stop placing bets on human lives!"

The wealthy guests looked at Angela for a brief second, some of them offering polite, superficial smiles, but none of them stopped their whispering and laughing. In their eyes, an ordinary man without money or family backing had no value whatsoever.

Inside the cage, the referee raised his right hand into the air, looking between both fighters.

"Rules are simple," the referee announced in a loud, firm voice. "No eye gouging, no biting, no groin strikes. When one fighter is knocked out or taps out, the match is over immediately. Are both fighters ready?"

"I am more than ready to break this toy," Raymond said with a savage grin, raising his heavy fists in front of his face and bouncing on his toes.

Ethan simply nodded his head once. "Ready."

"Fight!" the referee shouted, chopping his hand downward through the air and immediately stepping back toward the cage wall.

The entire crowd erupted into a deafening roar of cheers and shouts.

"Crush him, Raymond!"

"Break his jaw in the first round!"

"Show this beggar what real power looks like!"

Raymond did not waste a single second. The moment the word 'fight' left the referee’s mouth, Raymond’s eyes flared with murderous intent. He dug the balls of his feet into the black canvas.

Like a raging bull charging toward a helpless target, Raymond sprinted straight across the center of the cage.

He cocked his heavy right fist back near his ear, channeling all his body weight and muscle into a devastating, right hook aimed directly at the side of Ethan’s jaw.

"Ethan! Watch out!" Angela screamed at the top of her voice, her voice cracking with agony.

Unable to bear the horrifying sight of Ethan being smashed into a bloody pulp, Angela squeezed her eyes tightly shut, burying her face in her trembling hands as tears spilled down her pale cheeks.

She could not watch him die. She could not look at the violent destruction that her own selfish actions had caused.

"Die, you piece of trash!" Raymond roared at the top of his voice as his fist closed within six inches of Ethan’s face.

Ethan did not panic, nor did he flinch. To Ethan, Raymond’s punch was full of fatal openings, and it completely lacked balance and defensive structures.

Just as the fist was about to graze the fabric of Ethan’s collar, Ethan tilted his head a mere two inches to the left, letting the ferocious strike whistle harmlessly past his ear.

Before Raymond could even realize that his punch had hit nothing but empty air, Ethan moved his right hand right away.

He formed a fist with his right hand and struck Raymond’s chest with a little pressure. At the exact time, Ethan striked Raymond’s nerve point on the right side of his neck

This caused Raymond’s blood pressure to drop to zero in a microsecond, instantly severing the oxygen supply to his brain.

His heavy body collapsed forward like a towering building hit by an earthquake, his face crashing on the black canvas mat with a heavy thud.

Thump!

From the moment Raymond launched his furious charge to the moment his limp body hit the floor, exactly five seconds had passed.

The deafening roars and cheers of the two hundred wealthy guests suddenly died out, as if an invisible hand had instantly choked the throats of every person in the pavilion.

The entire sports hall fell into a dead, suffocating, and absolute silence.

The businessmen who were laughing dropped their glasses, the young heirs who were placing bets stood frozen with their mouths wide open, and Emily’s smug grin completely vanished, her eyes bulging in horror.

Nobody could believe what their eyes were seeing. The undefeated underground champion, the brutal young master of the Hunter syndicate, was lying completely motionless on the canvas, unconscious and unresponsive.

Angela stood outside the cage, her eyes still squeezed tightly shut, her body trembling with dread.

She waited for the sickening sound of Ethan screaming in pain, she waited for the crowd to cheer for Raymond's victory, and she waited for the referee to call for an ambulance.

Yet, there was no screaming, no cheering, and no sound of celebration. There was only a heavy, eerie silence.

"Why... Why is everyone so quiet?" Angela whispered to herself in confusion, her heart fluttering with fear.

Slowly, hesitantly, Angela lowered her trembling hands and opened her eyes to look through the metal wire of the cage.

Her eyes widened in shock as she stared at the center of the ring in shock.

Raymond Hunter was lying flat on his stomach on the black mat, completely unconscious, his arms and legs spread out.

Beside his body, Ethan Sanders stood completely upright, his dark coat neat and untouched, his hands resting calmly at his sides.