Chapter 302: The First Blow
Due to the way the restaurant was positioned high up on the mountain top, the Rejected Corps members and the Chalk Line Boys had a clear, unobstructed view of anyone approaching along the narrow winding path. From their vantage point, they could see Max coming toward them, his figure small at first against the backdrop of the mountain road, but growing larger with every step.
At first, they didn’t think much of it , just a young man in a black and red jacket walking steadily forward. It was only when a few others came into view behind him, dressed in the exact same style, that the murmurs began.
"Hey... aren’t they a bit young looking? What’s going on here? You guys know these people?" one of the Chalk Line members snickered, his voice carrying across the quiet air. A few others chuckled under their breath, leaning toward each other to trade sarcastic remarks. To them, the sight was almost laughable , a bunch of teenagers in matching jackets, marching up a path toward one of the most notorious gang strongholds in Brinehurst.
One of the Rejected Corps members, clearly irritated by the comments, stepped forward, scratching the back of his head as he began moving toward the group. "It’s just some kid who’s got a problem with us," he muttered. "Looks like the boss treated him way too well, and now he thinks he can do whatever he wants. I’ll deal with him."
There had always been a quiet dislike for Max among some of the Rejected Corps , a kind of simmering resentment at the way Chrono had shown him unusual consideration. That dislike had only grown over time, festering into open hostility.
Even though there were quite a few figures walking behind Max, the gang members on watch could only see them as kids , delinquents at best. In their eyes, if they dropped one hard enough and made an example of him, the rest would scatter back down the mountain like frightened animals.
The advancing Rejected Corps member smirked, cracking his knuckles as he prepared to speak. "Come on, Max, show me what you, "
He never got to finish his sentence.
Max was already in motion, sprinting forward with sudden, explosive speed. His eyes were locked on the man’s face, his steps pounding against the dirt path. Out of reflex, the man swung his fist in a quick jab, but the strike cut through nothing but air.
Max’s response was a brutal overhand right, his entire body weight driving the blow downward. His knuckles smashed into the man’s cheek with a sickening crunch, the force snapping his head to the side and sending blood spraying into the air. The sound of the impact seemed to echo across the quiet mountaintop.
The man stumbled back two steps before his legs gave out completely, collapsing onto the ground. Blood poured freely from his nose, already swelling, and his jaw hung at an unnatural angle.
For a second, the other gang members simply stared, momentarily stunned by the sheer decisiveness of the strike. But before they could even process what had happened, Max closed the distance again , not to step past his opponent, but to drop his weight on top of him.
He pinned his knees firmly above the man’s arms, locking them down so he couldn’t raise a defense, and began hammering punches into the side of his face.
One.
Two.
Three.
The rhythm was relentless. Blood spattered onto Max’s sleeves, the ground beneath them quickly turning dark and slick. The man on the receiving end twitched with every blow, his head jerking side to side as Max’s fists found their mark again and again.
"Hey! The kid’s gonna kill him!" one of the Rejected Corps members shouted, snapping the others out of their shock. "He’s lost it , let’s get him!"
Three more members charged in together, moving fast. But Max didn’t even lift his head to acknowledge them. He kept driving his fists downward, his focus entirely on the man beneath him.
The first attacker reached out, aiming to grab him by the collar , and that was when Max moved. He exploded upward, twisting his body in a single fluid motion, and all three were dealt with almost instantly. Quick, precise strikes, each one designed to put them down hard before they could even understand what they were up against.
From behind Max, an array of jackets emblazoned with the Bloodline logo came surging forward. The sound of their footfalls on the dirt path rolled like a drumbeat, each step carrying the weight of their intent. They didn’t hesitate for even a second , the moment the first three Rejected Corps members closed in, Bloodline’s fighters were already there, moving with sharp precision.
Just as swiftly as Max had dropped his opponent, all three of them were dispatched in a blur of movement.
A sharp kick to the ribs folded one man in half before a baton cracked across his jaw. Another was grabbed by his collar and slammed into the ground with such force that the air rushed out of his lungs in a single gasp. The third swung wildly with both fists, only to have his strike caught mid-air, twisted, and countered with a crushing elbow to the temple.
By the time the dust settled, all of them were lying sprawled across the ground, groaning or silent, their weapons scattered uselessly around them.
"What the hell is happening right now?" one of the Chalk Line Boys blurted, his voice tight with disbelief. "How did they get beaten so easily?"
They had mocked the Rejected Corps plenty in private, calling them arrogant or sloppy, but deep down, the Chalk Line Boys knew the truth , they understood the Corps’ strength better than anyone. They’d fought them again and again in turf battles, trading bruises and broken bones. The Corps weren’t pushovers; they were disciplined, trained, and ruthless.
And yet... here they were, lying on the ground after only seconds of contact. It wasn’t just a defeat , it was a statement. The kind of statement that made every Chalk Line member’s gut twist with unease.
The steady rhythm of fists hitting flesh finally stopped. Max rose slowly from his crouch, both of his hands slick and red, blood dripping from his knuckles and staining the gravel beneath him. His gaze swept over the stunned faces before him.
"Every single one of you," Max said, his voice low but carrying enough weight to make even those in the back hear, "was there. You stood and watched while Abby was killed. I’m not going to go easy on a single one of you."
The words landed heavier than any punch.
From beyond the ridge, more movement caught the eye , shadows lengthening against the sun as a massive wave of figures began to appear over the horizon. The Bloodline group was arriving in force.
They came in from all directions, a tide of bodies converging on the restaurant’s path. Every school district’s delinquents from Brinehurst had answered the call. Some carried batons, chains, and makeshift clubs; others brought knives or lengths of pipe. There was no shouting, no reckless noise , only the sound of determined steps and the glint of steel.
Their numbers swelled with every second until it was clear: they weren’t just a gang of students anymore. This was an army. And their size alone eclipsed the combined forces of both the Chalk Line Boys and the Rejected Corps. By a rough count, there had to be close to a thousand of them.
"Hell, head inside, now! We need to tell the boss!" one of the Chalk Line Boys shouted, panic cutting through his voice. They turned and bolted for the restaurant’s heavy double doors, shoving past each other in their rush to get inside.
Bloodline advanced steadily, the air between them and the entrance thick with the weight of what was about to happen. Max stopped just short of the doors, his eyes locked on the building.
"So this is it, huh?" Rick said quietly beside him. "Everyone we’re going up against... they’re all in there."
Joe gave him a sidelong glance. "You getting scared?"
Rick shook his head, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "Not scared. Just... it’s different. Feels like we’re finally stepping into the real world we’ve always been a part of."
The sea of Bloodline members parted briefly as a struggling figure was pushed forward through the crowd. A man grunted and cursed under his breath as he was shoved closer, his hands bound tightly in metal cuffs.
Sandra emerged behind him , the only other member from the Pit besides Wolf , her grip on the prisoner firm and unrelenting. The captive was Chad.
He looked from the blood-smeared hands of Max to the broken men on the ground and swallowed hard.
Max stepped forward, his voice cold and deliberate. "Watch closely, Chad. Watch as I take down this entire place, piece by piece. Let this burn into your memory. This is a lesson , one you won’t ever forget. Never... ever... think about taking me on."