Chapter 140: Max Upgraded
Unlike last time, the Rejected Corps were holding their own, too well, in fact.
So far, not a single member of the Chalkline Boys had broken through their ranks. No one had even touched them.
But Max knew better than to stand still. Just because the enemy hadn’t come for them yet didn’t mean they wouldn’t. The second he and Wolf got involved, they’d become new targets. That was how this kind of battlefield worked, momentum shifted fast.
Max moved.
He spotted a Chalkline member sneaking up behind one of the Rejected Corps fighters, arm pulled back for a strike. Max lunged, grabbing the attacker by the back of his collar and yanking him down hard. The movement was so quick and sudden it almost choked the man.
Before he could react, Max kicked him, hard. The side of his foot collided with the man’s head, slamming his teeth together with a sickening crack. The attacker slumped.
More enemies were closing in, having spotted Max in the open.
He didn’t wait.
He grabbed two ceramic plates from the table next to him and hurled them at the incoming men. The plates smashed into their faces with enough force to knock one of them off balance, sending both stumbling back, stunned just long enough for Max to charge in.
He drove a knee into one attacker’s stomach, then grabbed him by the shoulders and delivered three more brutal knees in rapid succession. Each one knocked the air out of the man’s lungs, until he dropped like a sack of bricks.
Another enemy came running at Max, swinging a meat cleaver.
Max didn’t panic.
He twisted, shoving the man he’d just finished fighting into the path of the attacker. The cleaver sunk deep into the injured man’s shoulder, his own ally.
The attacker froze in shock, and Max used that opening to elbow him across the jaw, then knee him square in the ribs.
"Man," Max muttered, shaking his head, "with the amount of meat cleavers these guys use, maybe they should change their name. Chopline Boys or something."
Up on the second floor, Na stood silently at the railing, watching everything unfold.
Everyone else on that level had already been dealt with. The bodies, groaning, unconscious, or worse, lay scattered behind him. It gave him a moment to observe.
His eyes locked onto Max.
’He’s definitely fought before,’ Na thought. ’And not just the one-on-one kind. This kid knows how to handle group combat , and how to dominate it. That’s rare. Especially for someone so young.’
Na crossed his arms, studying the technique, the mindset.
’He doesn’t hesitate. Hits hard. Finishes clean. If someone goes down, he makes sure they stay down. And he’s not afraid to use what’s around him, plates, people, anything lethal. That’s a good instinct. Street-smart.’
But there was more.
’He’s not scared of weapons, either. Doesn’t rush them, but he doesn’t freeze up. Keeps a cool head and moves with purpose. That calm, that discipline , that’s not normal for a high schooler. No way. I see why Chrono thinks he’s worth something.’
Then Na’s gaze drifted sideways, to the other one.
The wild card.
Wolf.
He fought with his arms loose by his sides, shoulders slightly slouched, almost like he didn’t care.
And then, bam , he spun, avoiding a series of strikes, and while mid-spin cracked a man across the face with the back of his hand. As another opponent tried to strike, Wolf jumped back, only to lunge forward the next second, slamming his arm into the man’s chest with a bone-rattling shot.
It was strange.
There was no specific technique. No clear martial art. No style to copy or counter.
His movements were unpredictable, awkward even, but deadly.
’This one’s sharp,’ Na thought. ’Like he’s got eyes in the back of his head. It doesn’t look like much, but he hasn’t even been touched. Not once.’
Wolf grabbed an incoming attacker by the head and slammed his face into the steaming hot pot still boiling at one of the tables. The man screamed, the spicy broth searing into his eyes and mouth.
’He doesn’t care about getting rough either,’ Na observed. ’That unpredictability, that speed . That’s the real weapon.’
Back on the floor, Max and Wolf were now drifting toward each other as they took down enemies. Eventually, they crossed paths again in the central aisle of the restaurant, a cleared walkway where the waiters had once carried dishes between tables.
Now, it was the battlefield’s centerline.
"Hey," Max said, glancing sideways as they stood back to back. "I think you’re fighting too well."
"Sorry," Wolf replied, not sounding sorry at all. "Hard not to when they keep coming. And I don’t exactly like getting hit."
"Yeah, well, if you show me up too hard, they’ll start getting more interested in you ," Max warned. "That’s not exactly the best move for your long-term safety."
Just then, two Chalkline fighters rushed them, screaming as they charged.
Wolf stepped back.
"Alright, then. I’ll take a breather. You handle this one."
Max ran forward without hesitation. When he was just within striking distance, he pivoted sharply and launched into a spinning side kick. His heel smashed into the man’s gut, lifting him clean off his feet. The force knocked him back so hard he vomited mid-air before crumpling to the ground.
Wolf’s eyes narrowed.
Wait... wasn’t that Dipter’s move?
Before he could think on it, Max was already onto the second attacker. He stiffened his shoulders, made himself compact, then slid past a punch and dug a punch into the man’s gut.
The attacker keeled over, and Max didn’t stop. He followed up with a swift hook to the face, and when the man dropped to his knees, Max drove his fist straight down, knocking him out cold.
That last combo... that looked like something Na did, Wolf realized. Not exactly the same, but close. Did he just copy both of their moves? On the spot?
Wolf’s mind was racing.
Not only was Max stronger than the last time they’d fought side by side, but his hits were cleaner. He still didn’t have the raw power others had, but his precision made up for it. Each strike landed exactly where it needed to.
He’s stronger, Wolf thought. Not by much, but it’s enough to notice. Still not near the top-tier muscle, but with the way he moves...
He assessed it quickly, the way he always did.
Strength and speed, up to a D-rank now. Add that to his S-rank battle instincts and his apparent ability to copy moves at an S-rank level...
Wolf smirked.
You’ve improved, Max. You’re no longer a D.
You’re a solid C-rank fighter now.