Chapter 111: Bloody Knuckles
"Me? Defeat Dipter?" Joe laughed nervously, lifting his hands in surrender. Sweat ran down the side of his face. "No way. That’s impossible, I could never do something like that."
The other students turned to look at him.
Some of them couldn’t believe Joe was even the one running class right now. A lot of the fifteen or so students there were the top delinquents in their year. They were on Ko’s level. And Joe? Joe had been Ko’s underling.
They’d watched him improve over time, which was why they respected him just enough to listen to what he had to say during training. But seeing him like this, panicked, backing off, they were starting to realize he might not have much of a spine after all.
"Don’t worry, Joe. I’ll deal with this guy," said a student named Darren, pulling off his gloves and tossing them to the floor.
Darren was no joke. Top of his class, one of the most aggressive fighters among the delinquents. He stepped forward confidently, cracking his knuckles as he walked.
"Hey," Darren said, voice sharp. "You don’t just walk into a gym full of students learning how to fight and say something like that. You’re basically asking for a fight."
Without waiting for an answer, Darren closed the distance and lunged forward. In that moment, it was like everything he’d learned in the gym flew out of his head. He pulled his arm back wide and swung with full force.
The man barely moved. He shifted to the side with ease, letting Darren’s momentum carry him forward. Then, with practiced precision, he grabbed Darren’s wrist and twisted it, slipping behind him in one fluid motion.
A quick kick to the back of Darren’s legs sent him stumbling down, and before he could even react, the man struck him with a lightning-fast blow to the side of the head.
It was so fast Joe didn’t even see it, just the man’s hand snapping back as Darren crumpled to the floor.
The man turned calmly and walked forward, completely unfazed by the chaos behind him.
"I have a mission," he said, his voice sharp and mechanical. "And I intend to complete it. I’m bringing the one who took down Dipter to the boss. Agent Dud has never failed a mission. "
"What the hell did that guy just do?!" one of the students yelled.
"He dropped Darren! Get him!" another shouted.
In a flash, the rest of the students charged. But it wasn’t coordinated. It wasn’t anything like what they’d practiced. This was pure street instinct.
And that was the problem.
Only those with real discipline, those who trained seriously, could stay calm and fight the way they’d been taught when things got real. But these kids? They slipped right back into their old habits the second the pressure hit.
For Dud, it was too easy.
The first student swung sloppily. Dud caught his wrist mid-air, twisted, and flipped him effortlessly to the ground.
Another lunged in. Dud stepped aside, grabbed the student’s arm, and with a sharp tug, a snap echoed across the room.
"This guy..." Joe’s eyes widened. "He’s dodging everything... and the second he touches them, he just breaks them, like it’s nothing..."
One student was already on the floor, clutching his arm, crying out.
Joe’s jaw clenched. I have to do something!
He took a breath and ran forward.
Ahead of him, Dud had just thrown another student to the floor. The boy rolled, groaning, as Dud moved with fluid, unrelenting precision, twisting a wrist here, kicking out a knee there.
His style... Joe thought. It’s nothing like I’ve ever seen before. But I can’t just freeze, I have to fight the way I know how.
He gritted his teeth and closed the distance.
Joe stayed sharp and tight, keeping his stance compact. He shot forward with a quick uppercut aimed straight at Dud’s chin.
It didn’t land clean, but it was close enough. The punch skimmed under Dud’s jaw, just barely grazing it, and it forced him to release the student he’d been gripping by the shirt.
"Oh..." Dud murmured, stepping back. "So one of you actually knows how to fight."
He smiled, the kind that didn’t reach his eyes.
"I was right after all. You were the one who took out Dipter." He rolled his neck. "Let’s see if you’re good enough for us."
The injured students backed away, keeping their distance. They watched in stunned silence as Joe began weaving side to side, light on his feet. Then he struck, quick punches aimed clean at Dud’s head.
Dud moved with precision, parrying each blow with subtle hand movements, observing closely.
"Good, good," he said. "You’re compact. Guard’s tight. And you’ve got speed."
The students stared, wide-eyed. Joe was the only one holding his ground. The only one who looked like he might actually stand a chance.
But Dud’s voice shifted.
"Problem is... there’s a big difference between boxing and a real fight. "
Dud suddenly lunged and drove a punch straight through the center of Joe’s guard. His fist slammed into Joe’s face, snapping his head backward.
"In boxing," Dud said coldly, "you’ve got gloves to protect you. Out here, "
He drove a brutal kick into the side of Joe’s leg. Joe gritted his teeth and stayed standing, until another hit cracked into his stomach, folding him over.
Then came the final strike, a clean blow across his face that sent him crashing to the ground.
The gym was silent, except for the sound of breath catching in throats.
Dud didn’t hesitate. He dropped down, pinning Joe with both knees. Then the fists came, over and over, slamming into Joe’s face. No one moved. No one spoke.
Joe didn’t even raise his arms to defend himself. He just... took it.
Punch after punch.
Until finally, it stopped.
Dud stood up, blood dripping from his knuckles.
Joe wasn’t moving.
The students watched in stunned disbelief, frozen by what they’d just witnessed.
"You’re either not the one who beat Dipter," Dud said, his voice cold and flat, "or you’re too weak for us to care about. Either way, I’m done here."
He turned around like nothing had happened, walking out the gym door as casually as if he’d just picked up a protein bar from the store.
The room was silent for a beat, then chaos erupted.
The students rushed to Joe, dropping to their knees around him. He was sprawled on one of the soft training mats, but it didn’t soften the damage. Blood was smeared across the floor from his nose and mouth. His face was swollen, bruised, barely recognizable.
"Joe! Joe, are you okay?!"
"Somebody get a towel or something, !"
Voices were overlapping, panicked. Some of the students looked like they were ready to cry. Others just froze.
From across the gym, Steven stepped out of the changing room, still holding his phone to his ear.
"What is all that noise? I can barely hear, " he stopped mid-sentence.
He saw the circle of students... and the blood. They were crowded around someone, and then they started moving aside.
Steven’s face fell.
He walked over slowly. His footsteps echoed.
When he saw Joe, bloodied, limp, barely conscious, his heart dropped.
Steven silently ended the call with a tap of his finger.
His voice came out low, like he was trying to catch up to what his eyes were seeing.
"What... happened...?"