Audience With A Dangerous Kingpin

The sun was beginning to set, casting long shadows over the edges of the slums, as Jael hurried along the narrow, debris-strewn paths that snaked between dilapidated buildings.

He was heading back from the hospital. His heart pounding with urgency and fear after witnessing Atrixus being forcefully taken by a group of ominous figures. Jael's intention had been to warn his friend about the dangerous individuals looking for him, but he was too late.

As he turned a corner with ragged breath due to running, Jael nearly collided with a beautiful young woman standing in front of what he recognized as Atrixus's house.

She was not alone; a small entourage of well-dressed bodyguards surrounded her, making her look distinctly out of place in the gritty surroundings of the slums. Her posture was composed, her expression serious, yet her eyes scanned the area with a sharp intensity.

"Excuse me!" Jael exclaimed, startled, taking a step back. His mind raced, wondering if these people were connected to the men who had taken Atrixus.

"I'm sorry if I frightened you," the young lady said, her voice calm and authoritative. "I'm looking for Atrixus. You wouldn't happen to know where he is, would you?" Her gaze was piercing as though she was trying to read Jael's quickening pulse and the evident fear in his eyes.

Jael, still recovering from the shock of his earlier encounter, stumbled over his words. "I—I don't know anything! I have to go!" He turned to run, his instincts screaming at him to escape the potentially complicated situation.

"Wait!" the young woman called after him, but Jael didn't stop. He darted through an alleyway, his familiar steps echoing off the walls as he tried to put as much distance as possible between himself and the strangers.

The young woman turned to one of her bodyguards who happened to be a tall man with a stoic face and observant eyes. "Follow him. He's clearly scared and might know something about Atrixus's whereabouts," she instructed with a sense of urgency.

Without a word, the bodyguard took off at a brisk pace. Jael noticed the pursuit and pushed his legs to move faster. His mind raced with thoughts of what these people might do if they caught him.

The chase led them through the heart of the slums, past onlookers who briefly paused to watch the spectacle but wisely chose not to interfere.

Jael ducked under laundry lines and leaped over small obstacles. His intimate knowledge of the terrain gave him a slight advantage over his pursuer.

However, the bodyguard was relentless. His larger strides closed the gap with efficient determination.

As they rounded another corner, Jael glanced back and saw that the bodyguard was barely a few paces behind.

His lungs burned, and his legs ached, but fear propelled him forward. The bodyguard, however, was not just physically imposing but also well-trained, maneuvering through the slums with surprising agility.

The chase continued, winding through narrow passageways and across small courtyards.

The bodyguard almost had his hand on Jael's shoulder when they burst into a small open area littered with broken furniture and discarded items. Jael stumbled over a piece of metal which caught his foot and sent him sprawling to the ground.

He tried to scramble up, but the bodyguard was already upon him.

His large hand gripped Jael's arm firmly. "Enough running. We're not here to hurt you. We just need information," the bodyguard said, his voice stern yet not unkind.

Panting heavily, Jael looked up in defeat and fear; "Please don't hurt me! I don't know anything."

"Relax..." The bodyguard proceeded to pull Jael up.

"Do you know where Atrixus is?"

"I don't know where Atrixus is now," he gasped with a horse voice. "I saw him forcefully taken by some people at the hospital. That's all I know, I swear!"

The bodyguard's expression softened slightly as a flicker of concern passed through his eyes. "Taken?"

"By who?"

■■

The air was heavy with the scent of opulence and danger as Atrixus was led through the echoing halls of a grandiose mansion.

The sound of his muffled footsteps on the rich, marbled floors was drowned out by the deeper thuds of the guards' boots that surrounded him.

His world was darkness under the coarse fabric of the bag over his head, and his hands were bound tightly behind him, chafing against the coarse rope.

The guards stopped, and Atrixus felt the chill of the air shift, signaling that he had entered a larger, even more opulent space. The murmurs around him grew louder.

"He's the one, Boss Ragnar. The boy who tampered with the Sacred Revilcorn," a gruff voice confirmed from somewhere in front of him.

At the mention of the name "Ragnar," Atrixus's blood ran cold.

Could it be that Ragnar?

Ragnar—the notorious leader of the Lightning Claws, a gang infamous for its ruthless dealings and illicit underground activities involving System Bearers.

Ragnar's reach was said to extend deep into the shadows of Pariscus city, manipulating from the darkness with the city's protectors in his pocket.

"Bring him forward," commanded a voice that was both silky and menacing, carrying the weight of absolute authority.

Atrixus was pushed to his knees causing the rough carpet beneath him to scratch at his skin through his thin trousers. The room fell silent, waiting for their leader's next words.

"Remove his cover," the same voice ordered.

As the bag was yanked off, Atrixus blinked against the sudden onslaught of light.

His eyes adjusted slowly to the lavish surroundings—an opulent room draped in velvets and silks, golden chandeliers hanging from high ceilings, and walls adorned with the trophies of dangerous hunts.

Expensive artifacts and art pieces lined the room, each telling a story of power and wealth.

His gaze was inevitably drawn to the figure at the center of this grandeur.

Boss Ragnar sat upon a throne-like chair, exuding a presence that filled the room. He looked like a formidable man, clad in a gold-colored fur coat adorned with the claws of some monstrous beast.

His features were sharp and predatory: a hooked nose, deep-set eyes shaded by heavy brows, and a scar that ran down one cheek, giving him a permanent sneer.

"So, you are the young Atrixus who has caused me such inconvenience," Ragnar's voice was calm, but it carried an undercurrent of threat that made Atrixus's stomach churn. "Do you understand where you are?"

Atrixus swallowed, his throat dry. "I am not sure," he managed to say with a steady voice despite his racing heart.

Ragnar leaned forward with his eyes narrowing. "You interfered with an operation of mine. The Sacred Revilcorn was not just a beast; it was a key asset in my plans. And you, unwittingly, have put yourself in the middle of a very dangerous game."

Atrixus felt a chill run down his spine. "I didn't know—I was just trying to survive," he stammered.

Ragnar chuckled darkly. "Survival is the least of your worries now, boy. You see, by killing the Revilcorn, you have not only crossed me, but you have also gained something valuable. Something many would kill for. And that puts you in an even more precarious position."

Atrixus's mind raced as he tried to comprehend the full extent of his actions. The gang, the illegal operations, and now this man before him, a kingpin of corruption and violence—it was all overwhelming.

"What do you want from me?" Atrixus finally asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Ragnar stood, his figure imposing as he began to descend the few steps from his seat towards Atrixus. The guards tensed, their hands on their weapons, as their leader approached.

The air was thick with tension as the crime lord leaned forward. "You need to return what you stole, boy," He voiced with a low and menacing tone.