Chapter 9 Enter The Underworld Queen

The heavy metal doors of the private office opened smoothly, making a dull scraping sound against the floor.

Two large guards dressed in dark suits stepped aside, keeping their hands close to the weapons hidden under their jackets.

Ares walked into the room without any hesitation. He still wore his simple black cloth mask, and his hands were loosely tucked into his pants pockets.

His posture was completely straight, and his shoulders were relaxed as he checked his new surroundings.

The room was vast and filled with the warm glow of yellow lamps. A thick desk sat at the far end of the space, and the large glass window behind it showed a clear view of the noisy crowd down by the cage.

The shouting from the arena was muffled up here, sounding like a distant storm. Along the walls, there were deep leather couches and a few shelves holding expensive crystal bottles, but the space felt cold and empty, designed purely to make visitors feel small and powerless.

Behind the desk sat Natasha Romanov. Her bright red hair fell perfectly around her pale face, and her bare arms were covered in beautiful, intricate dark tattoos that stretched all the way down to her fingers.

She was sipping a glass of ice water, watching Ares walk toward her with a sharp, calculating look in her eyes.

She had seen hundreds of fighters enter her office, but her expression showed that she had never seen anyone walk with this kind of slow, quiet confidence.

She did not speak immediately, letting the silence stretch across the room as a test.

"Take off the mask," one of the guards ordered from behind Ares, his voice rough and demanding.

He took a step closer, his heavy boots thudding against the floor.

Ares did not move his hands from his pockets.

He did not even turn around to look at the man. "I keep the mask on," he said calmly.

The guard took another step forward, his face darkening with anger.

He reached out a large hand toward Ares's shoulder, his fingers ready to grab the fabric of his jacket. "Listen here, kid. You are in our house now. You do what we—"

"Leave him be, Boris," Natasha interrupted. Her voice was smooth, low, and clear, carrying a natural power that instantly silenced the room.

She leaned back in her chair, crossing her legs. "A man who can knock out The Anvil with a single tap can keep his face covered if he wishes. Sit down, Ghost."

Ares walked over to the desk, but he ignored the empty chair completely. He stood tall, looking down at the beautiful woman who ruled the city's underground.

"I am here for my money. The man at the desk said the winner gets ten thousand dollars cash."

Natasha smiled, a slow expression that usually made her enemies sweat.

She reached into a drawer beneath her desk and pulled out a thick stack of green hundred-dollar bills, tossing them onto the table between them. The paper hit the surface with a soft slap.

"Here is your money. Ten thousand, exactly as promised," Natasha said, her eyes tracking his movements. "But a man with your skills should not be fighting for pennies in a dirty cage.

You do not belong with those wild dogs downstairs. They fight for survival, but you look like you are just passing through."

Ares reached out and picked up the cash with one hand, sliding it smoothly into his jacket pocket. "Thank you."

"I can give you much more than that," Natasha said, leaning forward and resting her chin on her hands. Her tattoos shifted as she moved under the yellow light.

"I own this entire facility. I own the docks, the gambling houses, and half the politicians in this borough. Work for me, Ghost. Be my personal enforcer. You will never have to worry about cash or survival in this city again. You will have a seat at the highest table."

Ares looked at her for a moment through the slits of his mask, completely unmoved by her wealth or her status. "I do not work for people," he replied flatly.

The two guards in the back instantly drew their black pistols, pointing them straight at the back of his head. The loud click of the weapons loading echoed sharply in the quiet room. The air in the office instantly became incredibly heavy.

"Watch your mouth," Boris hissed, his finger tightening on the trigger. "You are speaking to the head of the Crimson Syndicate. One word from her, and you leave this room in pieces. Nobody says no to the Queen."

Ares did not flinch. His breathing did not change, and his heart rate remained perfectly steady. Using his Eye of the Warlord skill, he could see the exact position of the bullets inside their guns, and he could feel the heat of their anger. To him, these mortal weapons were nothing more than toys.

He knew exactly how fast he could move to strip the weapons from their hands before they could even blink.

Ares ignored the guns completely and took a slow, deliberate step closer to Natasha’s desk, walking right past the guards' line of fire as if the men did not even exist in the room.

He leaned forward slightly, placing his palms flat on the surface of her desk, looking straight into her eyes.

"Tell your men to put their toys away, Natasha," Ares said softly, his voice dropping to a low tone that cut through the silence. "Before I make them cheat it."

A wave of pure shock washed over Natasha's face. She stared at him, her eyes widening slightly as she took a slow breath to calm her racing heart.

She was waiting for a tremble in his knees, a change in his voice, or a quick glance backward toward the barrels of the guns, but he showed absolutely nothing.

He possessed an absolute lack of fear that she clearly did not expect, leaving her completely stunned in the middle of her own office.