Ethan Vance stood outside The Obsidian, Los Angeles’s most exclusive underground casino, holding a worn velvet box in his hands. Inside sat a simple silver ring—a promise he had made to Clara four years ago when they were both broke college students working night shifts.

He had worked ninety hours a week as a mechanic just to save up enough to buy her a modest apartment deposit.

The heavy oak doors of the VIP lounge swung open.

Clara walked out, her silk red dress clinging to her figure, a diamond necklace around her neck that cost more than Ethan’s entire bloodline had ever earned. Her arm was wrapped around Julian Sterling—the arrogant, sadistic heir to the Sterling Crime Family, a syndicate that controlled 70% of the illegal gambling and loan shark operations across the West Coast.

When Clara’s eyes landed on Ethan standing in his grease-stained jacket, there was no hesitation, no guilt. Only cold, sharp disgust.

"Ethan?" Clara sneered, swirling her glass of champagne. "Why are you stalking me here? Did your card decline at the pawn shop again?"

"Clara... we were supposed to look at the apartment today," Ethan said, his knuckles turning white around the ring box. "You said you were visiting your sister."

"Grow up, Ethan!" Clara laughed coldly, taking a sip of her drink. "Look at you! You smell like engine oil and cheap sweat. Julian bought me a penthouse in Bel-Air yesterday. He gave me a black card on our first date. You took four years just to save twenty thousand dollars! You’re a loser, and you’ll always be a bottom-feeder."

Julian Sterling chuckled darkly, adjusting his gold cufflinks. He stepped up to Ethan, grabbing the cheap ring box out of Ethan's hand, opening it, and tossing the silver ring into a nearby spittoon.

"Listen to your girl, mechanic," Julian smirked, leaning in close. His voice lowered into a lethal whisper. "You’re dirt. Guys like me run this city, and guys like you pay us protection money just to breathe our air. If I ever see your ugly face near Clara again, my boys will chop you into shark bait and drop you off the Long Beach pier."

Julian slapped a wad of dirty hundred-dollar bills against Ethan’s chest, letting the cash fall onto the wet pavement.

"Take the cab fare, boy. Now get on your knees, pick it up, and crawl out of my sight."

Julian’s two heavy enforcers stepped forward, cracking their knuckles, waiting for Ethan to resist so they could break his ribs.

Ethan didn't pick up the money. He stood motionless in the rain, his heart hammering against his ribs, his teeth clenching so hard his gums bled. The sheer humiliation burned through his veins like liquid nitrogen. In this world, money wasn't just wealth—it was power, life, and the right to be treated as a human being.

Ping.

A golden, translucent interface materialised directly in front of Ethan’s eyes. Time didn't stop, but the world around him seemed to dim into the background.

[GOD OF FORTUNE SYSTEM: ACTIVATED]

• Host Registration: Ethan Vance.

• Current Status: Bankrupt / Humiliated / Unyielding.

• Core Protocol: Money is the absolute law of human society. Through wealth, you shall buy loyalty, swallow syndicates, and build an untouchable Underworld Empire.

Ethan blinked, wiping the rain and blood from his lip as the golden lines of text expanded before his retinas.

[INITIAL WEALTH PACKAGE GRANTED]

• Initial Liquid Capital: $50,000,000 USD (Legitimized through offshore holding accounts).

• Passive Ability: [Market Foresight - Tier 1] — Allows Host to view the real-time financial vulnerabilities, debt structures, and darknet bounties of any target within line of sight.

• System Rule: This System DOES NOT grant superhuman strength or magic skills. All power must be bought, hired, built, and weaponized through strategy, capital, and influence.

Ethan’s breath hitched. No fireballs, no laser eyes, no instant god-mode. Just cold, absolute, overwhelming financial dominance.

The System highlighted Julian Sterling in a faint crimson glow.

[TARGET ANALYSIS: JULIAN STERLING]

• Affiliation: Sterling Crime Family (Junior Executive).

• Financial Weakness: Owes $12,000,000 in defaulted high-risk loans to the European Shadow Cartel due at midnight.

• Bounty Status: $5,000,000 bounty on his head issued by rival syndicate "The Iron Syndicate" for assassinating their underboss last month.

Ethan looked at Julian, then at Clara. The rage in his chest transformed into a terrifying, icy calm.

Julian grew impatient, raising his foot to kick Ethan into the gutter. "I told you to pick up the money, trash—"

DZZZZT.

Ethan’s phone vibrated violently in his pocket. A encrypted notification popped up from his newly created System interface on his phone screen.

[SYSTEM ACTION COMPLETED]

• Purchased 100% of the $12,000,000 defaulted debt owed by Julian Sterling.

• Purchased 100% ownership of The Obsidian Casino.

• Wired a $5,000,000 bounty payout directly to The Iron Syndicate’s chief mercenary commander to switch allegiance.

Ethan didn't duck or flinch. He slowly reached into his pocket, pulled out a pristine black metallic credit card issued directly by the System, and handed it calmly to the casino’s head manager, who had just rushed out of the front doors with four heavy security guards.

"Check the account," Ethan said softly, his voice devoid of any emotion.

The head manager, a veteran in the underworld who knew every major player in California, swiped the card on his handheld encrypted reader. The moment the numbers cleared, the manager’s face drained of all color.

[CARD TYPE: GOD-TIER BLACK VIP]

• Balance: $50,000,000 USD.

• Ownership Status: Owner of The Obsidian Casino & Entertainment Group.

The manager’s hands shook so violently he almost dropped the device. He immediately pushed past Julian Sterling, bowed ninety degrees toward Ethan, and shouted to his security team: "All units! Guard the Chairman!"

Julian blinked, his arrogant smile freezing on his face. "Manager Davis, what the hell are you doing?! He’s a broke mechanic!"

"Shut your mouth, Sterling!" Manager Davis barked, his voice filled with panic. "Mr. Vance just purchased this entire facility in cash! He owns this casino, he owns your debt, and as of thirty seconds ago... he owns your life!"

Clara’s jaw dropped. She stared at Ethan as if looking at a ghost. "Ethan? What... what is he talking about?!"

Before Julian could pull his concealed firearm, two heavy black SUVs slammed onto the curb in front of the casino, blocking the street. Eight heavily armed mercenaries wearing tactical gear stepped out, carrying automatic carbines with red laser sights locked onto Julian’s head.

The lead mercenary commander walked up to Ethan, giving a crisp military salute.

"Mr. Vance," the commander reported in a cold, professional tone. "The Iron Syndicate has received your $5,000,000 advance. As agreed, we have severed our ties with the Sterling Family. My men are at your disposal to enforce your debt collection."

Julian fell backward onto the wet asphalt, his eyes wide with sheer, suffocating terror. "No... no, wait! My father is Thomas Sterling! You can't do this!"

Ethan slowly stepped forward, stopping right in front of Julian. He didn't punch him. He didn't scream. He simply looked down at the trembling syndicate heir as if looking at an insect on his shoe.

"Your father’s empire is built on money, Julian," Ethan said softly, his voice carrying the terrifying weight of absolute financial dominance. "And starting tonight... I have more of it than he ever will."

Ethan turned to the mercenary commander. "Break his legs, seize all his personal assets, and send the bill for his $12,000,000 debt directly to his father’s office."

"Understood, Boss!" the commander barked.

"Ethan! Wait! Please!" Clara shrieked, running forward, her face pale, tears smearing her makeup as she tried to grab Ethan’s arm. "I was wrong! Julian forced me! I still love you, Ethan! Please take me back!"

Ethan didn't even turn his head. He pulled his sleeve out of her grasp, pulled out a hundred-dollar bill from his wallet, and tossed it into the gutter beside her.

"Keep the change, Clara," Ethan said coldly, walking up the marble stairs of The Obsidian as the heavy doors opened for him. "My new world has no room for cheap things."

Ethan walked into the grand VIP office of the casino, overlooking the glowing skyline of Los Angeles. He poured himself a glass of aged whiskey, pulled up the golden System interface, and looked at the long list of rival crime families controlling the city.

This was just the first step. He wasn't going to just destroy Julian—he was going to buy the entire underworld piece by piece until everyone, from street gangs to global cartels, answered to the God of Fortune.

Inside the top-floor penthouse office of The Obsidian, Ethan swirled the amber liquid in his glass, watching the neon lights of Los Angeles blur through the rain-streaked, bulletproof glass.

Down on the street, the screaming had stopped. Julian Sterling’s luxury sports cars were being loaded onto flatbed tow trucks, and his former bodyguards were now standing guard at the casino’s perimeter, wearing Ethan’s black-and-gold security armbands. Money had bought their survival; higher pay had bought their absolute obedience.

Manager Davis knocked twice before stepping into the office, carrying an encrypted tablet. His attitude was no longer just respectful—it was terrified reverence.

"Mr. Vance," Davis said, offering a deep bow. "Julian Sterling’s legs have been broken as requested, and he’s currently in a private medical ward under heavy guard. More importantly, Thomas Sterling—head of the Sterling Crime Family—just received the notice of his son’s $12,000,000 debt transfer."

"How did the old man react?" Ethan asked smoothly, taking a sip of his whiskey.

[TARGET ANALYSIS: THOMAS STERLING]

• Status: Patriarch of the Sterling Crime Family.

• Current Mood: Enraged / Threat Assessment Active.

• Financial Vulnerability: The Sterling Syndicate relies on three illegal docks at the Port of Los Angeles for 80% of their contraband flow. The port authority commissioner is heavily bribed.

• Bribe Threshold: $8,000,000 USD to flip the Commissioner's allegiance and seal the docks.

"He’s furious, sir," Davis replied, cold sweat dripping down his neck. "Thomas has summoned a council of the five major underworld bosses at his estate in Bel-Air for tomorrow night. He intends to put a ten-million-dollar street bounty on your head and use his cartel connections to crush The Obsidian."

Ethan chuckled, a cold, calculating glint in his eyes. He didn't have superhuman reflexes or bulletproof skin, but he didn't need them. Thomas Sterling was fighting with guns and muscle; Ethan was fighting with the bloodline of modern power—unlimited, ruthless capital.

"He wants to put a ten-million-dollar bounty on me?" Ethan set his glass down on the mahogany desk. He tapped his phone screen, accessing the God of Fortune System menu.

[SYSTEM ACTION: FINANCIAL LEVERAGE ACTIVATED]

• Capital Deposited: $30,000,000 USD.

• Target 1: Commissioner Edward Roy (LA Port Authority) ➔ Bribe accepted. Port Lockout Initiated.

• Target 2: The "Ghost Blade" Mercenary Syndicate ➔ Contract Signed. Security detail doubled.

• Target 3: Short-selling Sterling Logistics Inc. on the offshore dark-market exchange.

"Davis," Ethan said calmly. "Reach out to Commissioner Roy. Tell him I’m doubling his annual offshore allowance to eight million. Effective immediately, the Port of Los Angeles is closed to all Sterling Family shipments. Seize every container they have docked."

Davis gaped at Ethan. "Sir... Thomas Sterling has fifty armed men at those docks! Closing them will start an all-out mob war across California!"

"It’s not a war, Davis," Ethan said, leaning back in his leather chair as the golden System interface expanded before his eyes, displaying the plummeting financial network of the Sterling Syndicate in real-time. "It’s a hostile takeover."

The next evening, at the fortified Sterling Manor in Bel-Air.

Rain poured heavily over the estate. Inside the lavish, cigar-smoke-filled dining room, Thomas Sterling—a ruthless fifty-year-old mob boss with graying hair and scarred hands—sat at the head of a long marble table. Seated around him were four other syndicate leaders who controlled the extortion, narcotics, and illegal arms trades across the West Coast.

Thomas slammed his heavy fist onto the table, shattering a crystal wine glass.

"A mechanic!" Thomas roared, his eyes bloodshot with rage. "A nobody from the gutters buys my son’s debt, cripples him, and takes over The Obsidian in one night?! Who the hell is backing this Ethan Vance?!"

"Thomas, calm down," said Marcus Drake, a veteran crime lord who controlled the city's underground fighting rings. "Word on the street is Vance dropped fifty million cash in a single hour. He bought off the Iron Syndicate and hired the Ghost Blade mercenaries. This isn't just some kid playing gangster. Someone with infinite money is standing behind him."

Before Thomas could reply, the heavy mahogany double doors of the dining room burst open.

Thomas’s elite bodyguards immediately drew their silenced pistols, pointing them at the doorway.

A tall, sharp figure stepped into the room. Ethan wore a bespoke charcoal-grey Italian suit, a dark silk tie, and a leather trench coat brushed with raindrops. Behind him walked only two men: the Commander of the Ghost Blade mercenaries and Manager Davis, who carried a sleek leather briefcase.

No army. No grand display of weapons. Just Ethan walking into the lion’s den with absolute, terrifying composure.

Thomas’s face twisted in venomous hatred. "Ethan Vance... You have a lot of nerve walking into my house alone. Do you really think your little fortune can save you from fifty guns in this mansion?"

The surrounding crime lords held their breath, their hands resting near their concealed firearms.

Ethan didn't flinch. He walked over to the open chair at the foot of the marble table, pulled it out, and sat down calmly, crossing his legs.

"Put the guns away, Thomas," Ethan said, his voice quiet yet carrying a pressure that made the entire room freeze. "If a single bullet leaves a gun in this room, your family’s entire empire vanishes before the shell casing hits the floor."

"You arrogant little brat!" Thomas sneered, signaling his head bodyguard. "Shoot his legs! Let's see how arrogant he is when he’s crawling like his father did!"

RIIING! RIIING! RIIING!

Before the bodyguard could pull the trigger, every single crime lord’s phone in the room began vibrating simultaneously.

Thomas frowned, pulling out his encrypted satellite phone. When he looked at the screen, his face turned ash-white.

[URGENT FINANCIAL ALERT]

• Port of LA: All 12 Sterling cargo containers seized by federal agents. Loss: $40,000,000 in liquid inventory.

• Bank Accounts: Sterling Syndicate’s primary offshore accounts in Panama and the Cayman Islands freeze-locked due to emergency debt foreclosure.

• Stock Market: Sterling Logistics bankrupt. Shares bought out 100% by Vance Global Holdings.

Thomas’s hands trembled so violently he dropped his phone onto the table. "My... my accounts... my shipments..."

The four other crime lords checked their phones as well, their eyes wide with sheer horror.

"Thomas!" Marcus Drake gasped, standing up in panic. "My offshore accounts just got a transfer notification... Ten million dollars was just deposited into my Swiss bank from Vance Holdings!"

"Mine too!" another boss stammered, staring at Ethan as if looking at the Devil himself. "Ten million... to terminate all alliance contracts with the Sterling family!"

Ethan slowly leaned forward, resting his elbows on the marble table, his eyes burning with cold, golden authority.

"I didn't come here to fight you, Thomas," Ethan said softly. "I came to buy your peers. I paid each of these four bosses ten million dollars to stand down tonight. In exchange, they hand over your territory to me."

The four crime lords immediately stood up, stepping away from Thomas Sterling. In the underworld, loyalty was expensive, but Ethan’s price was simply impossible to refuse.

Thomas looked around the table, realizing in one terrifying moment that his brothers-in-arms, his guards, and his entire life’s work had been stripped away not by bullets, but by a checkbook.

"You... you monster..." Thomas stammered, sinking back into his chair, looking ten years older in a matter of seconds. "Where did you get this kind of money?!"

"That’s not your concern," Ethan said, signaling Manager Davis.

Davis opened the briefcase, placing a single stack of legal transfer documents in front of Thomas, along with a pen.

"Sign over the Sterling Syndicate’s remaining assets, properties, and territories to Vance Holdings," Ethan commanded, standing up and buttoning his suit jacket. "Do it, and you get to keep your life and live in retirement. Refuse, and the Ghost Blade mercenaries will clean this mansion in three minutes."

Thomas stared at the pen, his hands shaking, his pride utterly crushed. With a trembling signature, he signed the documents, surrendering the largest mob family in California without a single gunshot being fired.

Ethan picked up the signed documents, giving a faint, satisfied nod.

[GOD OF FORTUNE SYSTEM PROMPT]

• Mission Accomplished: The Sterling Crime Family absorbed!

• Underworld Territory Acquired: Los Angeles Underground Operations (100%).

• Passive Income Bonus: +$5,000,000 USD / Daily.

• System Level Up: Level 1 ➔ Level 2 (Unlocked: Global Cartel Bribe Network & Darknet Intelligence Array).

Ethan walked toward the double doors of the mansion, stepping past the silent, terrified crime lords who bowed their heads as he passed.

"Gentlemen," Ethan said, stopping at the threshold and looking back over his shoulder. "Starting tonight, the Los Angeles underworld has a new set of rules. You work for me, you get rich. You cross me... and I buy your executioners."

Ethan stepped out into the rain, entering his armored Maybach as his motorcade drove off into the night, setting his sights on the next target: the international cartels controlling the country.

A month had passed since the night Thomas Sterling signed away his empire without firing a single bullet.

In the shadows of California, the shift in power was absolute. The street gangs, extortion rings, and illegal casinos had been streamlined under Vance Global Holdings. Petty violence dropped, efficiency skyrocketed, and every local captain was making three times their usual cut—provided they adhered to Ethan Vance’s strict golden rule: No unauthorized bloodshed, no mess, and 100% financial transparency.

From the top floor of his newly acquired glass skyscraper in downtown Los Angeles, Ethan stood behind his mahogany desk, reviewing the global financial dark-web interface projection.

[GOD OF FORTUNE SYSTEM: LEVEL 2]

• Daily Passive Revenue: $5,000,000 USD.

• Total Liquid Reserves: $320,000,000 USD.

• Unlocked Feature: [Darknet Intelligence Array] — Real-time tracking of global cartel shipments, corrupt politicians, and black-market arms auctions.

Manager Davis stepped into the office, his demeanor sharp and composed, carrying a encrypted satellite phone.

"Mr. Vance," Davis reported, placing a black file on the desk. "The local transition is 100% complete. However, taking over the Sterling Syndicate’s territory has drawn the attention of the big fish."

Ethan didn't look away from his screen. "Which one?"

"The Vergara Cartel out of Mexico," Davis said, his voice lowering. "They supplied 90% of the illegal arms and narcotics to the Sterling family. Their leader, Hector 'El Sombra' Vergara, operates out of a fortified compound in Tijuana. He just sent an ultimatum: he wants a 50% cut of all Vance Holdings' revenues in California as 'protection tax' for continuing to allow our ports to exist, or he’ll send three hundred cartel hitmen across the border to turn LA into a warzone."

Ethan picked up the file, opening it to reveal photos of Hector Vergara—a ruthless fifty-five-year-old warlord guarded by a private army of two thousand heavily armed mercenaries, complete with military-grade armored vehicles and surface-to-air missiles.

To an ordinary crime boss, fighting a Mexican drug cartel was suicide. They didn't care about lawsuits, stocks, or local police; they operated on raw, unchecked terror.

"Hector thinks money is just paper you use to buy guns," Ethan murmured, a cold smile forming at the edge of his lips. "He doesn't realize that in the modern world, money is the gun."

Ethan tapped his phone screen, accessing his new [Darknet Intelligence Array].

[TARGET ANALYSIS: HECTOR VERGARA]

• Weakness 1: $150,000,000 in cartel assets laundered through three private offshore banks in Zurich and Liechtenstein.

• Weakness 2: Hector's private mercenary army, "Los Buitres," hasn't been paid in two months due to a frozen supply route.

• Weakness 3: Hector’s second-in-command, Diego Ruiz, secretly desires to take over the cartel.

"Davis," Ethan said, leaning back in his leather chair. "How much does Hector owe his mercenaries?"

"Roughly twelve million dollars, sir," Davis replied, confused. "Why?"

"Prepare two hundred million from our liquid reserves," Ethan commanded quietly. "We're going to buy a cartel."

Three days later. The sun beat down relentlessly on Hector Vergara's sprawling, ten-acre fortified estate in Tijuana, Mexico.

Guarded by high concrete walls, sniper towers, and fifty heavily armed cartel soldiers carrying automatic rifles, the compound was an impenetrable fortress. Inside the air-conditioned courtyard, Hector Vergara sat in an armchair, smoking a Cuban cigar while tossing meat to his two pet panthers.

Beside him stood his second-in-command, Diego Ruiz.

"Diego," Hector growled in a thick accent, exhaling a cloud of gray smoke. "Has that American mechanic responded to my tax demand yet?"

"Not yet, Boss," Diego answered, his hand resting nervously near his hip holster. "Our scouts in LA say Ethan Vance hasn't mobilized any soldiers. He's just sitting in his skyscraper."

Hector laughed darkly, shaking his head. "Suit-wearing businessmen are all the same. They think their bank accounts make them tough until a grenade comes through their window. Send fifty men to shoot up one of his venues tonight. Let him know what 'El Sombra'—"

DZZZZT.

Diego’s encrypted phone vibrated. At the exact same second, every radio, satellite phone, and tablet belonging to the guards on the compound chimed simultaneously.

Hector frowned, lowering his cigar. "What is that?"

Diego pulled out his phone, staring at the screen in utter bewilderment.

[GLOBAL DARKNET BANKING ALERT]

• Recipient: Diego Ruiz.

• Deposit Received: $30,000,000 USD (Verified Offshore Transfer).

• Sender: Vance Global Holdings.

• Memo: Advance payment for executive restructuring.

Diego’s breath hitched. Before he could speak, the chief of the compound's perimeter security—a battle-hardened former special forces commander named Captain Ramos—walked rapidly into the courtyard, his phone in hand.

"Boss..." Ramos stammered, looking at Hector with a strange, dark expression. "All two hundred 'Los Buitres' mercenaries on duty just received a direct wire transfer. Twenty million dollars total... back pay plus a 500% bonus."

Hector’s eyes widened in disbelief. He stood up from his chair, his voice booming with rage. "What?! Who authorized that transfer?! Where did that money come from?!"

ROAAAAAR—!

The heavy iron gates of the compound didn't explode—they simply opened smoothly as the guards posted at the entrance pressed the controls, stepping aside without a word of resistance.

A single matte-black armored SUV rolled slowly into the courtyard, coming to a stop twenty feet from Hector.

The back door opened, and Ethan Vance stepped out, wearing a tailored navy suit and leather shoes, entirely unarmed. He walked calmly into the center of the cartel stronghold as if entering a high-end hotel lobby.

Hector’s jaw dropped. "Ethan Vance?! You... you walked into my compound alone?!"

"I'm not alone, Hector," Ethan said smoothly, stopping and resting his hands casually in his suit pockets. "Look around you."

Hector snapped his head toward his sniper towers and the perimeter guards lining the balcony.

Every single one of his two hundred elite mercenaries—men he had trained, fed, and commanded for ten years—had their rifles pointed directly down at Hector’s head. Their red laser sights dotted Hector's chest like a constellation of blood.

Hector’s blood ran cold. "Ramos! Diego! Kill him! What are you waiting for?!"

Neither Ramos nor Diego moved a muscle.

"They're not going to kill me, Hector," Ethan said, his voice calm, echoing clearly across the silent courtyard. "Your mercenaries fight for money. You owed them twelve million and treated them like dogs. I paid them twenty million twenty seconds ago, with another twenty million promised the moment I leave this compound."

Ethan looked at Diego Ruiz, giving a faint, knowing nod.

"Diego," Ethan continued, "I transferred thirty million into your account. You are now the official Chief Executive of the Vergara Cartel's operations. The logistics, the territory, and the supply lines belong to you under Vance Holdings."

Diego looked at his phone screen, then at the helpless, frantic mob boss standing beside him. The choice was painfully simple.

"Thank you, Mr. Vance," Diego said quietly, pulling his pistol from his belt and stepping five paces away from Hector.

Hector stumbled back, his cigar dropping from his lips into the dirt, his face completely drained of color. "You... you bought my entire army... in three minutes?!"

"I didn't buy your army, Hector," Ethan corrected gently, stepping closer until he was standing just three feet away from the ruined warlord. "I bought the reality you live in. You built your empire on terror and bullets. But terror is expensive, and loyalty has a precise market value."

Ethan reached into his jacket, pulled out a gold fountain pen, and tossed it into the dust at Hector’s feet.

"Sign over your Swiss accounts and your cartel's logistics contracts to Diego," Ethan said softly. "Do it, and you get a villa in Spain and a quiet retirement. Refuse... and your former guards will test their new weapons."

Hector looked up at the two hundred laser sights locking onto his chest, then down at the gold pen in the dirt. The legendary 'El Sombra,' a man who had terrorized nations for twenty years, collapsed to his knees, his hands trembling violently as he picked up the pen.

[GOD OF FORTUNE SYSTEM PROMPT]

• Mission Accomplished: Vergara Cartel Subjugated!

• International Trade Routes Acquired: North & Central America (100%).

• Passive Income Bonus: +$15,000,000 USD / Daily.

• System Level Up: Level 2 ➔ Level 3 (Unlocked: Global Political Lobbying Array & Private Security Fleet Protocol).

Ethan turned his back on Hector, stepping into the rear seat of his armored SUV as Diego Ruiz opened the door with a respectful bow.

"Keep the supply lines clean, Diego," Ethan said as the window rolled up. "We have a global empire to build."

As the SUV drove out of the compound, Ethan looked at his phone screen, where his System map was already illuminating the next continent: Europe's shadowy financial syndicates and old-money crime families.

The Underworld King had outgrown America; it was time to buy the rest of the world.