Jett’s presence was undeniable. He was like a wall of muscle that had just entered the top deck of the ship. His size and muscular features caused people to turn their heads instantly, and he also made sure to wear a tight fighting shirt that emphasized his physique.
It wasn’t just to show off his muscles like most muscle heads. For Jett, it was to show off a particular type of muscle he was incredibly proud of: the strength he had in his forearms and fingers. Nearly every strand of muscle could be seen as he wiggled his fingers about; there was next to no fat on his forearm at all, suggesting a crushing, unnatural grip.
It caused everyone to look, no matter what their status was. As he had entered the venue as well, quite a few of the guests seemed to know him, as they started to greet him and called his name over with deference.
It was strange, the interactions. Even though all the people here were powerful in their own right, powerful within their own worlds, the way they were talking to Jett, it was almost as if they were trying to win his favor, or they were outright afraid of him.
’It makes me wonder if they’ve seen him fight or not, I guess that’s why they are acting a certain way?’ Max thought, analyzing the power dynamic. He remembered the main thing about Jett was his incredible grip strength, and the second was his sheer durability. Going up against him in a way, almost felt the same as going up against Hercules, an unrelenting force.
"Of all the people, it had to be him right?" Darno commented, his voice low, acknowledging their shared bad luck. "I mean he’ll definitely remember Stephen the moment he sees him."
"He might know our faces, but the rest don’t, so it’s good to cover up anyway," Max answered, his gaze tracking Jett’s movements. "And I thought this might happen, that someone powerful would be here to make sure there is a leash on us. So I at least expected this." The presence of a high-level enforcer was a calculated risk.
A part of Max was hoping that they would send Jett to where Chad was, hoping that Jett would be tied up elsewhere, making it one less immediate problem for them to deal with.
"Do you think that he’ll take part in the matches as well?" Stephen gulped. Although confident in himself, and knowing he had grown stronger, he still had fresh in his memory how all of them together were unable to take this man down. The memory was a cold reality check.
"Maybe if we force their hand and win a bit too much, they would use that to recoup their money," Max answered, considering the financial side of the Black Hounds.
"Well that’s simple then right?" Darno immediately jumped in. "If Jett’s fighting against Stephen then we just bet on Jett."
"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Stephen replied, feeling defeated by his own team member’s practical assessment.
"Hey," Max interjected firmly. "I wouldn’t do that Stephen, remember what I said before, I trust you...and let’s just hope it doesn’t come to that." Max’s reassurance carried weight, an investment in Stephen’s capability.
Jett continued to make his rounds, nearly introducing himself to everyone as if he was some type of champion being paraded. Even some of the other fighters stood up and bowed, a mark of deep respect or fear. And once in a while, they caught him looking over in their direction, his eyes calculating.
The True Leader Arrives
However, there was soon a big change that had occurred as there were almost audible sounds of indrawn breaths coming from various faces around the deck.
Not just that, but all of the staff members had stood perfectly still right in their tracks, they didn’t move, even those that were just about to serve someone froze mid-motion.
That was because they were all looking at a particular man who had just entered, walking up the stairs to the top floor.
A tall man, who wasn’t as large or muscular as Jett, but from his body alone his presence felt bigger. He was wearing a black trench coat with a wolf fur trim. There was no shirt on display, showcasing his chiseled abs, despite his age, they were better formed than even young body builders.
He had a sharp jawline that looked like it could be used to cut paper, and a scar that hung over his right eye, a clear mark of his dangerous history. The expression on his face was cold, utterly devoid of warmth. When Max had first seen Chrono, he had similar thoughts and views about his power, but now he realized that was naive of him. Because if he compared the person he was looking at now to Chrono, Chrono would have just been a simple puppy in comparison.
"Who is that, who is getting everyone’s attention?" Darno asked, stunned by the immediate and universal reaction.
At that point, all of the staff members that were frozen had bowed their heads down deeply, and even some of the guests that were regulars there did the same.
"We welcome you sir, Grimm Vale!" The staff said in unison, a chorus of respect and fear. And the most surprising thing, even Jett had bowed down his head, welcoming said person with complete deference.
Grimm Vale, wasn’t even his real name; it was a nickname he had earned over the years. His real name was Darius Vale, and there was a clear reason why everyone was respecting him, he was the ultimate authority.
"Isn’t it obvious, that person right there, is the leader of the Black Hounds."
Now Max was realizing they were putting a lot more effort into him than they initially thought. With Jett and the leader present on the same isolated ship, the stakes had just been raised far beyond a simple betting match.