Out of all the guards the Fortis Group possessed, Max had heard countless times how everyone regarded Darno as their absolute best.
It was precisely because of that reputation that Darno had been allowed so much leeway over the years. It was why his face was plastered over nearly every advertisement and poster the company released. And, according to a few insiders, it was the only reason the Fortis Group had been able to maintain the small trickle of customers they still had left.
There was a lot of hype built around this man in Max’s mind. That hype was the only reason Max had chosen not to fire him on the spot after their first unpleasant meeting. Regardless of Darno’s personal arrogance and swagger, Max knew better than anyone that if a man truly had skill , and somehow hadn’t yet been claimed by the Underworld , it was always better to bring him onto your side than let him remain a potential threat.
If Darno really was as good as they claimed, then keeping him could be useful.
As Darno stepped onto the stage, a wave of cheers erupted from the assembled guards. The atmosphere shifted instantly. The tension that had filled the training hall from Wolf’s earlier matches faded, replaced by an electric sort of anticipation.
"Show him why we’re the best! Send that orange-haired guy flying back to the sun!" someone roared from the sidelines.
"Hey, isn’t that a bit too far?" another muttered, though they were grinning as they said it.
"These Bloodline guys have walked all over us. It’s time to prove that not all of us are pushovers."
"Doesn’t that kind of mean you think the rest of us are pushovers...?"
"Shut up and cheer already!"
The guards bickered and laughed, their voices rising, and for a moment the training hall sounded like a stadium before a championship match.
Darno didn’t react to any of it. His footsteps were slow, measured, and his eyes weren’t even on Wolf. Instead, they were locked on Max, and the words that came out of his mouth were enough to hush even the rowdiest of the onlookers.
"Don’t you want to fight? Or take part in this yourself?" Darno asked.
The laughter that followed was loud and immediate. Of course Darno would do something like that. He was known for being reckless, for blurting things without thinking, for getting himself into trouble that Nesa then had to clean up.
"What are you doing, Darno!?" Nesa barked, instantly flustered. "You should know you’re already on thin ice! Just stop your foolishness and complete the assessment!"
Wolf, meanwhile, merely tilted his head and rolled his shoulders as if warming up. He didn’t even glance at Darno, his calm expression the same as always.
The high-pitched beep sounded.
Wolf moved first, launching himself forward like a bullet. He barely seemed to touch the ground as he closed the gap. His hand whipped out in a blur, a strike aimed for the side of Darno’s head.
But unlike every opponent before him, Darno did not flinch or crumble.
His arm snapped up, intercepting Wolf’s strike. There was a sharp smack as their forearms collided. Wolf’s eyes widened slightly. Darno had blocked it cleanly , and then reset his stance as though nothing had happened.
One hand hovered slightly above his chest, the other low near his stomach, perfectly aligned like clock hands pointing to twelve and six. His feet shuffled back into a tight guard.
"You seem to know something about the red-haired one, huh?" Darno said evenly. "But unfortunately for you, I don’t think you’re ready to fight him."
Wolf’s lips curved slightly.
He attacked again, faster this time. A sharp backhand strike snapped toward Darno’s jaw. Darno deflected it. A low kick swept in toward his ribs. He blocked it with his shin and returned instantly to his stance.
Wolf began weaving side to side, using sharp angles, his feet gliding across the mat. He attacked from different directions, aiming not just for one part of the body but several , head, torso, thigh, shoulder , mixing his rhythm, trying to break Darno’s guard open.
Each strike was turned aside. Every time, Darno’s hands snapped back into position, perfectly disciplined.
"Whoa..." someone murmured, the entire training hall watching in awe. "I don’t think I’ve ever seen Darno fight like this. He usually just charges in, laughing and shouting insults... but he’s completely silent right now."
"I think that just shows how strong that Wolf guy is," Nonto said gravely from the side. "Darno knows he can’t fool around here."
Wolf accelerated again, and this time his movements became harder to follow.
He blurred. One second he was in front of Darno , and the next he was gone.
Darno’s pupils contracted as he searched for him. Then, in a flash of motion, he saw Wolf below, springing off the floor with his hands like a coiled beast. Wolf’s feet drove upward like pistons, aiming directly at Darno’s stomach.
Darno gritted his teeth and brought both forearms down together like a shield.
Boom!
The kick slammed into his guard. Darno slid back several feet, his heels digging grooves into the mat. The impact echoed like a cannon through the silent room.
"You blocked even that?" Wolf said quietly, landing lightly and straightening up.
Before today, Wolf would have ranked himself at A level. After recent fights against much stronger opponents, he knew he was closer to A+. In terms of speed, intuition, and raw striking power, he was among the best fighters Max had.
And yet Darno had stopped him.
Wolf wasn’t losing, not yet. But he was finding it frustratingly hard to break through Darno’s defenses. Every strike, no matter how fast or precise, had been read and deflected.
Wolf let out a low exhale and stopped attacking. His sharp gaze scanned Darno from head to toe.
"You... you’re professionally trained," Wolf said at last. "This isn’t something you just pick up. It’s not just instinct. You must have had a very good teacher. Who was it?"
In the Underworld, there were always certain legendary figures who trained in secret , lone masters who didn’t belong to any gang, syndicate, or faction.
One such example was Hercules the Superhuman. His students were so rare and so terrifyingly skilled that most gangs would retreat at the mere rumor of someone being trained by him.
If Darno had been trained by someone of that caliber, it would explain everything.
"That’s none of your business," Darno said coldly. He shifted his feet, his hands rising just a fraction higher, his posture tightening like a coiled spring. "Now... let’s see how you deal with my attacks."