The entire room grew still at that proposition. Everyone’s eyes widened before looking at each other, uncertain if this was one of the noble’s ideas of a joke. When they saw no one laughing, they just swallowed hard, not knowing how to react.

“I know what I just said sounds crazy. And coming from a ten-year-old boy, it sounds even crazier,” Elysian finally said, breaking the silence. “However, I want you to be open to that possibility. Just imagine if you held that power. Who would dare mess with all you hold dear?”

“If she gained that kind of power, which I doubt, she would certainly make enemies of some terrifying people,” Thomas countered, snorting as he looked at Amara, who remained silent, without showing any reaction.

“Then, would you be satisfied to remain powerless as some despicable vermin step on you?” Elysian questioned, glancing at the man, who scowled, looking away. Turning to Amara, he continued, “Possible or not, for now, it's still a distant dream to get anywhere near that dream. Why not start first in Ironspire?” This got the woman’s attention. Her eyes quickly shone, evaluating such a possibility. “Just imagine, all of the city’s underworld activities are within our grasp, while we kick out those foreign b*stard who try to make money from our blood.”

When Elysian mentioned that future, even Thomas’ sour expression softened and got him thinking. “Of course, you can’t use my name. And no one should know that I’m involved in any of this aside from the people here.” When he saw her eyes narrow, he smirked, pushing back the small chest full of gold. “Of course, that doesn’t mean I won’t be contributing anything. I will provide resources and work in the background so that our goals are achieved. Doing all that, twenty-five percent stake isn’t enough, right? Fifty-one percent, that’s as low as I can go.”

Looking at the chest, Amara was silent for a long moment. After considering the proposition, she sighed in resignation. “With you holding the majority stake, it means I am giving the lives of my people into your hands. I’m sorry, young master, even if it’s you, I can’t do that.”

“If that is your worry, how about we do this? I will have a majority stake in our partnership, but all the decisions will be yours. I can give suggestions, but you will be the one to ultimately make the decision on everything, from management to the hiring of people.” Elysian smiled at her, assessing her reaction. “To seal the contract, we will have a blood pact to ease your mind that I will uphold my side of the agreement.” Upon seeing the woman’s expression ease a bit, he nodded and added, “You don’t need to decide now. Think it through carefully first.”

Sybil burst into the room. Breathing heavily, he looked up urgently, his eyes wide with concern. “Young master, you need to get out of here…”

Before Sybil could even finish his words, Elysian and the others heard a deafening explosion from outside, followed by the panicked footsteps of people fleeing.

“What’s happening?” Elysian demanded, rising swiftly and crossing to the window. The rest of the group followed suit, their faces tense with concern. Thomas nodded to Amara before he exited the room.

“Crimson Talon has struck the Dread Raider,” Sybil declared, standing beside the noble. He cast a worried glance at the younger boy. “You need to get out of here, young master. It’s not safe.”

Elysian stood in stunned silence for a moment, his gaze fixed on the chaotic scene unfolding outside. People ran in panicked desperation, their screams mingling with the tumultuous clamor of the forming mob. Some were pushed to the ground, trampled underfoot by the surging mass of frantic bodies. The air was thick with dust and fear, a haze of confusion and terror that choked the senses.

Amidst the chaos, Elysian’s heart sank as he noticed children being swept away by the relentless tide of panic. They struggled in vain against the crowd, their small frames unable to withstand the force of the rampaging mob. He saw them fall, their cries lost in the cacophony of screams and shouts.

The devastation was palpable, a raw display of human desperation and vulnerability in the face of unchecked fear. Elysian felt a surge of helplessness and anger, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. The city he knew and returned to, now reduced to a battleground of survival, tore at his soul.

“Young master!” Sybil exclaimed, shaking him to get his attention. “You need to get out of here. It’s dangerous.”

“We need to bring order to this retreating mob, or more lives will be lost,” Elysian finally spoke, his eyes never leaving the stampede unfolding before him.

“Young master, you need to get yourself to safety first. Don’t worry about them,” Amara said firmly, her gaze darting below as shouts and violence erupted at the far end of the chaotic crowd. There, they saw the Iron Claw attempting to restore order. “See? They’re already taking care of it. If something were to happen to you here, it would be disastrous for everyone.”

Elysian breathed a sigh of relief, though a lingering sense of powerlessness weighed heavily on his heart. Helpless to intervene directly, he gritted his teeth before finally conceding. “Okay. Let’s go.”

Before they could even move, Thomas burst into the room, his face etched with urgency and panic. His clothes were ripped in jagged lines, smeared with dirt and blood. Shallow cuts crisscrossed his arms, dripping crimson onto the floor—a stark testament to the recent violence he had endured. “We need to get out of here now. Both the Razor Spike and Savage Fiend are attacking us.”

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“Razor Spike?” Elysian asked, moving hurriedly forward followed by the others.

“They are the other local gangs that are rivals to the Iron Claw, young master,” Amara responded with a tinge of nervousness in her voice.

Elysian noticed this and muttered, “Let me guess. Both of these b*stards are working together with the Crimson Talon to eliminate their rival.”

Thomas growled, leading them down to the first floor. “That’s the only possibility. Otherwise, how can they attack at the same time when the Crimson Talon chooses to strike the Dread Raider? Sh*t!” he cursed, blocking a surprise attack from the side.

Sybil moved to the front, intercepting an enemy, while another two, on the opposite side converged at them.

“Move to the back, someone will guide—” Before Thomas could finish his words, the four enemies dropped to the ground, each with fatal holes in their foreheads. He stepped back, shocked by what had just transpired. Then, he noticed everyone’s gaze fixed on the noble, who nonchalantly paid them no attention.

“What are you all looking at?” Elysian asked, his eyes scanning their surroundings for any hidden danger. “I thought we were in a hurry.”

Thomas cast a wary glance at the noble before gesturing to them to follow him. “This way.”

“Finally, you’re here,” Helene said with relief in her voice. She urgently pointed them to a hidden door in the ground guarded by two of Thomas’ men. “Lady Amara, are you alright?”

“Don’t worry, Helene. I’m fine,” Amara responded, trying to remain calm even though her eyes betrayed her. “What about the others? Where are they?”

“Don’t worry, my lady, they escaped already before the enemies swarmed this place.”

“Good.” With relief in her voice, she followed them, escaping into the hidden door.

Elysian descended into the hidden depths of Ironspire, the air growing colder and more oppressive with each step. The journey took them through a long, narrow passageway winding deeper and deeper into the earth. After what felt like an eternity, the tunnel finally widened into a dark cavern, visible thanks to his enhanced vision. Unlike the others, he moved without restriction, his eyes piercing the shadows to reveal the faint outlines of faded murals and intricate mosaics. Though dulled by time, their colors hinted at the splendor of a bygone era, a whisper of history that beckoned him further into the gloom.

“Where is this?” Elysian asked, his voice surprised to learn that there was something under the city. “I haven’t heard there are old ruins under Ironspire.”

“There are many things you don’t know, boy,” Thomas responded, pleased to know something that the noble did not. Moving to the side, he lit two torches, giving one to Sybil before leading the way.

As they all slowly followed, Elysian saw stone pillars looming, their surfaces etched with carvings that told stories long forgotten. He ran a hand over one of them, feeling the cool, rough texture of the stone and the delicate patterns beneath the layers of grime. Each step forward was careful, deliberate, as the uneven ground was littered with rubble and the remnants of ancient structures. The occasional crunch of broken pottery underfoot was a stark reminder of the fragility of this hidden world.

“There are plenty of ruins running below Ironspire, young master,” Sybil muttered, looking around them for some danger. “This is often used by the gangs to move their goods. The soldiers avoid this place. Even the Crimson Talon and the others don’t come here if it isn’t necessary. You can easily get lost here aimlessly to your death if you’re not careful. Also, dangerous beasts often prowl the dark corners of these ruins.”

The path widened into a vast chamber, where the ceiling soared high above, disappearing into the darkness. Stalactites hung from above like the teeth of a sleeping dragon, and the sound of dripping water echoed through the cavern, a rhythmic, almost musical backdrop to the silence. Pools of stagnant water reflected the torchlight, their surfaces like dark, unblinking eyes watching their every move.

Elysian paused to take in the scene, the weight of history pressing down like a tangible force. The silence was heavy, broken only by the occasional distant sound—a shifting stone, a faint whisper of wind through the tunnels. There was a sense of being watched, of the past refusing to remain buried. Every shadow seemed to hide a secret, and every corner was a mystery to be uncovered.

Despite the decay and desolation, there was an undeniable beauty to the ruins. The delicate balance of light and shadow, the intricate artistry of the ancient carvings, the sheer scale of the cavernous spaces—all combined to create a scene both awe-inspiring and haunting. Elysian felt a thrill of excitement, the familiar rush of adrenaline that came with exploration, tempered by a deep respect for the ancient place.

Here, beneath the bustling city of Ironspire, Elysian stood at the threshold of the unknown, ready to uncover the secrets that lay hidden in the darkness. The ruins were a testament to a time long past, a word forgotten by all but the most shrewd and scheming criminal minds. These dark halls and passages, now ruined by time, served as conduits for their nefarious intentions. Despite having become nothing more than networks and channels of criminality, the grandeur of the ruins still spoke to Elysian. Imagining what they once were, he felt a connection to this ancient world, a sense of purpose and destiny intertwined with the shadows and echoes of the ancient ruins.

Thomas chuckled, turning to the noble. “Don’t worry, boy. I grew up in these ruins. This place is like my backyard.”

“He’s right, young master,” Sybil murmured, his eyes darting around the dark ruins. He moved cautiously, every muscle tense, ready for any enemy that might leap from the shadows. “Only the local gangs know what lurks in these depths,” he continued, his voice barely above a whisper. “These are one of their secrets to staying competitive against the Dread Raider and the others.”

“Secret indeed,” Elysian sighed, the weight of the situation pressing down on him. He scanned the shadowy ruins, his enhanced vision picking up the subtle movements of their foes. Dark figures flitted in and out of his sight, a constant reminder of the danger closing in on them. “We’re surrounded.”

At the noble’s warning, they all halted abruptly, their breaths catching in their throats. A palpable tension hung in the air, each of them straining to see through the oppressive darkness. Eyes darted nervously, hands tightened around their weapons, and the silence was deafening, broken only by their nervous breaths. The sense of encroaching danger wrapped around them like a suffocating shroud, every shadow a potential threat.

“Impossible!” Thomas exclaimed, more to himself than to anyone in particular. He raised his torch high, scanning the darkness around them for any sign of the hidden enemies the noble had warned about. “Only the Iron Claw knows this part of the ruin. And none among my men…” His words trailed off as a chuckle from up ahead silenced him. “Darius?”