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On the sidelines, Sharon could only stare.
"This… I never knew Ethan could fight and this good," she muttered under her breath.
She had known Ethan was smart, nerdy and confident—but seeing him completely outclass Kingpin, a man who could throw grown adults like toys, was something else entirely.
Grant watched with a calmer expression, arms crossed.
"To be honest, I expected something like this," he said quietly.
Sharon blinked. "Expected?!"
Grant shrugged. "Storm serves him. A guy like Storm doesn't guard someone weak. If Storm Shadow is willing to follow him, then Ethan being this strong isn't surprising."
Storm didn't take his eyes off the fight.
His voice was flat, almost bored.
"I already told you," he said. "Ethan-sama is more than capable."
Sharon swallowed and nodded slowly.
For the first time, she realized she would need to update the intel report. Ethan Cliff wasn't just a genius CEO or a lucky kid with connections.
He could fight.
And not just basic self-defense—he could take down enemies far bigger and stronger than him through pure skill, speed, and precision.
"He's not some helpless nerd," Sharon whispered to herself.
"Not even close."
Back in the center of the hall, Ethan stepped forward again, his calm expression unchanged as he prepared to keep beating Kingpin senseless.
Kingpin wiped blood from his mouth and tried to brace himself, planting his feet wide.
He raised his fists, but his arms were shaking. His breathing was rough and loud.
Ethan didn't wait.
He rushed forward with a tight, clean combo—
a jab to the cheek,
a hook to the jaw,
another punch straight to the nose.
Kingpin's head snapped back, blood spraying again.
He tried to answer with a heavy swing, but Ethan ducked under it easily and drove his knee straight into Kingpin's stomach. The big man grunted loudly, bending forward.
Ethan grabbed his collar and slammed another knee right into Kingpin's face.
Crack!
Kingpin stumbled back, almost tripping.
Ethan didn't give him a second to breathe.
He stepped in again and hit him with a sharp kick to the side of the head.
Kingpin collapsed to one knee, breathing hard, blood dripping down his face.
He lifted his arms again, trying to fight, but they dropped after a moment—too heavy to hold up.
Ethan walked up to him slowly.
Kingpin stared up, one eye swollen shut, blood covering his lips and chin.
He tried to push himself up, but his body refused.
Ethan raised a fist.
Kingpin flinched—and then finally broke.
"S-STOP!" he yelled, voice cracking.
"I give up! Enough!"
Ethan froze mid-punch, then lowered his hand.
Kingpin panted heavily, coughing blood onto the floor.
His pride was gone. His confidence was gone.
The man who ruled half the city's underworld was kneeling, defeated.
"I… I'll talk," Kingpin said weakly.
"I'll give you everything on Klaue… just stop."
Ethan stepped back, brushing dust off his sleeve like he hadn't just beaten a giant criminal boss senseless.
"Good," he said calmly.
"Now we can talk."
Kingpin, still kneeling and shaking, lifted one trembling hand and snapped his fingers.
A guard—one of the few who hadn't panicked—stepped forward quickly.
He kept his eyes down, not even daring to look at Ethan, and handed over a thick file.
"This has… everything we have on Klaue," Kingpin muttered, barely audible.
Sharon stepped in immediately and took the file from the guard.
She flipped it open just enough to confirm its contents—photos, maps, reports, locations—before tucking it under her arm.
Ethan didn't even look at the file as he removed his blood stained gloves.
He then simply slipped his coat back on, buttoned it calmly, and adjusted his cuffs like he had just finished a business discussion instead of beating a crime lord senseless.
He clasped his hands behind his back.
"Happy to do business with you," Ethan said casually.
The words stung more than the punches.
Kingpin glared up at him, jaw clenched so hard it looked like it might crack.
He wanted to roar, to curse, to threaten—but he couldn't.
Not after the beating he'd just taken.
Ethan turned away without another word and began walking toward the exit.
Storm followed immediately, silent and deadly.
Grant walked beside him, keeping an eye on the hall.
Sharon stayed close, the file secured in her grip.
They all moved as one—calm, unhurried, completely unfazed by the dozens of guards staring at them.
No one dared to stop them.
No one dared to speak.
Behind them, Kingpin slowly pushed himself upright, leaning on his desk, his face twisted with rage.
His fists shook.
His lips trembled.
He ground his teeth so hard the sound echoed faintly.
"Ethan Cliff…" he hissed under his breath.
His voice was filled with humiliation and burning anger.
"I won't forget this…"
But the doors were already closing behind Ethan's group.
And Kingpin—Kingpin, the feared ruler of the criminal underworld—stood alone in his own office, bloodied, beaten, and powerless to stop them.
Back in the Phantom, the doors closed and the engine hummed as they pulled away from Fisk Tower.
Ethan sat back in his seat, crossing one leg over the other.
Sharon settled beside him with the file, flipping it open fully now that they were away from danger.
Ethan looked at Sharon.
"Where is he?" Ethan asked calmly.
Sharon scanned the first few pages—reports, photos, location tags. Her eyes moved quickly as she sorted through the documents.
"I'm checking," she said, flipping to the map section. "Give me a second."
The Phantom glided smoothly through the city streets, heading toward Ethan's house. The tension from Fisk Tower faded into the background, replaced by a cold, focused silence inside the car.
Sharon turned another page, then another.
Finally, she stopped.
"Got it," she said, tapping a marked spot on the map.
Ethan leaned slightly forward.
"Location?"
"Johannesburg, Africa. A salvage yard on the outskirts," she said. "Klaue uses it as a front. Scrap metal business on the surface, illegal trade underneath."
Ethan nodded once.