Robinson merely chuckled as Vernon eyed him warily. "I'm the owner of Club Sundown."
"So, you're the one responsible for those brutal fights?! Are you out of your mind?! You've killed so many people!" Vernon spat. Even though the fight had ended, the lingering shadows of fear, despair, and hopelessness still haunted his mind.
Worst of all, the spectators found it entertaining, and businessmen saw it as a profitable venture while the fighters' lives hung by a thread.
Even Ellen became one of its victims.
"I'm sorry. But I promise to cover your girlfriend's medical expenses."
"You should be doing that anyway!" Vernon was slightly relieved. At least he wouldn't have to worry about money.
"But on one condition," Robinson interrupted. "You have to fight for me in the Beelzebul tournament."
"Bastard!" Vernon exploded in anger. "Ellen wouldn't even be here if it weren't for your stupid matches!"
"It doesn't matter if you're not interested. Unfortunately, I won't be able to help you save your girlfriend." Robinson turned, walking away, flanked by six bodyguards.
"Damn it! Why am I always stuck in these awful situations?!" Vernon wiped his face in frustration. But he couldn't ignore Ellen's safety.
She was the only person left who still cared about him.
"Fine! I agree!"
Robinson stopped and smirked slyly. It wasn't hard to trap him. He'd anticipated Vernon's decision without hesitation.
He turned back to Vernon, smiling. "Meet me at my office tomorrow, Robin Corp. I'll explain your duties then."
Vernon didn't reply, glaring at him instead.
"Handle all the paperwork. Make sure the woman gets the best care possible," Robinson ordered his assistant.
"Yes, Mr. Robin."
"Vernon," Robinson addressed him once more. "You can't run from me. You know that, right?"
Vernon tried to remain calm, despite the shock.
"If you try to escape, you'll face the consequences."
Vernon shuddered at Robinson's smile. Behind his polite demeanor lurked something cruel and deadly. He could never tell what the man was thinking or planning.
With that, Robinson left with his entourage.
'How does he always know what I'm thinking?' Vernon had planned to escape after getting what he wanted, but after that threat, he'd have to think twice. Rich people always have ways to destroy the poor.
***
Vernon wore a black coat as he entered the luxurious Robin Corp building. People stared at him with disdain and suspicion, as if they were looking at a thief.
"I want to see Robinson." He despised even having to say the man's name.
"He's not just any man. You can't just walk in and meet him," the receptionist responded coldly.
"But—"
"How dare you raise your voice to my special guest, Beatrice."
Vernon turned toward the voice.
"Finally, you've arrived, dude." Robinson had just stepped out of the elevator, accompanied by Roy and Ricardo.
"You guys?!" Vernon was shocked to see them together.
"They work for me," Robinson explained casually.
"Damn it!" Vernon was frustrated, feeling deceived. He was sick of dealing with them again.
"Let's go, follow me."
"Where?" Vernon asked irritably.
"Of course, to our business location." Robinson smiled.
Vernon scoffed in annoyance, unable to refuse. He followed the muscular man toward the luxury car waiting in the lobby and got in.
The car sped through the bustling streets.
A few minutes later, they arrived at a famous boxing ring in New York. Vernon's eyes lit up at the sight of it. He had dreamed of fighting there since he was a child.
The Rolls-Royce stopped at the lobby, and a bodyguard opened the door for them.
Although curiosity gnawed at him, Vernon remained silent.
Robinson entered the building with Vernon, Ricardo, and Roy trailing behind.
"Welcome, Sir." Everyone bowed respectfully as Robinson passed by. He responded with a brief nod.
They entered the elevator, which descended to the basement.
'I didn't even know this building had a basement.'
When the doors opened, the sound of cheers, punches, and groans echoed through the space, sending chills down Vernon's spine.
He looked at the two fighters in the ring while the crowd roared around them. The place was eerily similar to Club Sundown.
"You're going to replace one of my fighters who's injured."
"Are the rules the same as yesterday's fight?"
"Spectators won't pay big bucks if there's nothing different from a legal fight, boy."
"Fu*k. Do you enjoy watching my men die in front of you?"
"They came to me, begging for money. I simply offered a partnership. I never forced them." Robinson smiled, showing no remorse.
Vernon clenched his fists, but he couldn't argue.
"You'll fight in a week. I suggest you train yourself. I'll assign you a professional coach."
"A week?!" Vernon shouted in disbelief. "You're insane! My hand just broke! There's no way I'll be healed in a week!"
"No problem. You can fight with your legs. There are no rules except to kill," Robinson explained. "I hope you don't repeat the mistake of sparing your opponent's life like you did yesterday. If you do, it'll be your life on the line."
"You…" Vernon growled, wanting to punch that smug face.
"Do it for your girlfriend." Robinson leaned closer and whispered, "Fight if you don't want to die at my hands."
Vernon's jaw tightened, and his fists clenched. Unfortunately, he was powerless against him. Robinson was too powerful. With his wealth, he could do anything.
Vernon cursed his fate, feeling like Robinson had turned him into a slave.
"Don't worry," Robinson patted his shoulder. "I'll pay you for every match you win. Aren't you tired of living in poverty?"
Robinson left with his men. Vernon glared at him with pure hatred.
He stared at his hands, torn. Could he live a life of sin? He didn't want to kill someone in the ring.
"Are you Vernon?"
Vernon looked up and saw a towering, muscular man standing before him. I guessed his height to be around 188 cm tall. His muscles were prominent, especially on his broad shoulders and large arms.
His jawline is strong with intimidating eyes. His dark brown skin was marked by a black scorpion tattoo on the left side of his neck, giving him a fierce and dangerous appearance. His hair was cropped very short, nearly bald, highlighting the harsh, fearless features of his face.
He looked like a monster.
"Y-yeah."
"I'm Mico, your coach." His voice was deep and raspy, like a monster's.
Mico looked Vernon up and down, disdainfully. "Looks like Mr. Robinson was drunk when he picked you as his fighter."
Vernon stayed silent, not wanting to argue.
Mico grabbed Vernon's bandaged hand and twisted it.
"ARGH! Let go, you bastard!" Vernon cursed angrily, trying to pull his hand back, but Mico only tightened his grip.
"This ring isn't for weaklings like you. The pain you'll face here will be far worse than this!" Mico threw Vernon's hand down roughly, making him wince.
"Now, start strengthening those arms. Follow me." As Mico turned away, a transparent screen appeared before Vernon.
[New Quest Appeared: Defeat Your Coach!]
[Reward: 10% Body Stat Boost]
Vernon stared in disbelief at the challenge.
"Are you crazy?!"