Wolf stood up and walked toward the edge of the arena, the lights above casting a sharp glow across his orange hair. Before stepping down, he lifted one hand casually and turned to look back at Joe and the others watching him. His expression said everything.
He was confident before , but now, after fully understanding what his special trait was and seeing it work flawlessly in a real fight, his confidence had transformed into something sharper. Almost dangerous. It showed in the way he moved, in how relaxed his shoulders were, in how he didn’t even blink at the roaring crowd.
Vivian, on the other hand, did not feel confident.
She was frustrated , frustrated enough that she had already left Chad’s side and marched back to her own seat, tablet in hand. She tapped her screen furiously, and sure enough... there it was.
Chad had bet another fifteen million on Wolf’s fight.
’Ten million on the first two fights... and now fifteen million on the second two?’ Vivian thought, her jaw tightening. ’He’s going to bet an enormous amount on their last fights. And that’ll be the only chance to get the money back.’
She didn’t have to calculate long. She already knew the math.
If Chad won every bet , and increased the amounts on the final round as she expected , the Black Hounds could lose around sixty million dollars from this venue alone.
For Chad, this meant a sixty-million gain from the hundred-million Max had given him.
A payout so absurdly high that no sane person would expect it from a few hours of fighting.
What Vivian didn’t know , what she had no clue about , was that this was only one of the three venues Max’s group was operating in.
To her, this was the entire battlefield.
To Max, this was only one piece of the night.
Vivian tried to refocus. She wasn’t concerned with the other locations. She was concerned with this
The Black Hounds made a lot of money through these events , but true windfalls were rare. Only once in a while did they come across an idiot like Chad, someone with too much money and not enough sense, and rake in massive profits from him.
And even then, a large portion of the profits went upwards , straight to the Gilt Rats, the Syndicate-level gang that operated above the Black Hounds in the same territory.
Losing sixty million at this venue alone...
That wasn’t just bad.
It was career-ending.
Vivian’s stomach tightened with a mix of irritation and dread.
Inside the ring, Wolf had already begun moving.
He wasn’t relying on speed , even though he had plenty. He wasn’t relying on brute force , though he had that too.
He was avoiding every hit with prediction.
He slipped through attacks like he already knew their path, stepping aside a fraction of a second before a fist would swing past his ear. The spectators saw grace. Vivian saw calculation. Wolf saw future movements before they happened.
Even Vivian could tell who the winner would be after only a couple of hits.
’I didn’t have enough time to set something up to make that orange-haired boy lose,’ she admitted internally. ’And not that it would have worked. He’s nothing like the other kid.’
Her fingers tapped against her leg in agitation.
She needed to turn the tide.
She needed to find a solution , now.
’I know Chad will bet on both of them in the final fight,’ she thought. ’That Joe... he’s a lost cause. He’s injured, and there’s a chance even Chad won’t bet on him. So I can’t make the money back there. Is there a way I can work around this...?’
Then she froze.
Her eyes slowly widened.
’Ah. Of course there is. There is something I can do... and that should work just fine.’
Wolf continued his fight with ease.
He dodged another punch , then spun fluidly, his leg snapping out like a whip, striking behind his opponent’s knee.
The man’s leg collapsed underneath him.
Before he could react, Wolf’s palm slammed sharply behind his ear , a fierce and perfectly calculated blow.
His special trait helped him find weaknesses, yes.
But the reason he fought so flawlessly wasn’t the trait alone.
It was because he was Wolf , a man who had survived street fights long before anyone even knew his name. A man who grew up learning how to fight against people who didn’t follow rules.
He leapt forward, grabbed the back of his opponent’s head, and slammed it into the ground. The tiles shuddered under the impact. A tooth skittered across the floor.
The crowd gasped.
Wolf stood, dusting off his hands.
"No hard feelings," he said, not unkindly. "You would’ve beaten me until I couldn’t stand again anyway."
The host didn’t even need to announce it.
Everyone knew.
This was Wolf’s victory.
"YESSS!" Chad screamed, nearly falling out of his VIP seat. "That’s three bets in a row! Three! All of them with insane payouts!"
His face was flushed with joy.
"Why , why couldn’t I have met these people earlier!? Why couldn’t I have this kind of luck with my money!?"
If Chad could, he would have put everything he had on Wolf and Joe. They had become symbols of his luck , unstoppable, miraculous, easy money.
The crowd believed things were winding down.
Just three fights left for the day , including the last fights of Joe and Wolf.
Wolf walked out of the ring and sat beside Joe again.
"Have you recovered?" Wolf asked. "I made the fight last longer so you’d have more time."
Joe laughed weakly.
"Haha, you didn’t have to do that... but thanks. I’ll be okay no matter who I go up against."
He stretched, grimacing slightly.
"But I appreciate the gesture."
Chad was already preparing to place his final massive bets.
He didn’t bother betting on the match happening now , he was saving all his money for the last two fights.
The current match ended quickly, and the buzz of anticipation filled the rooftop as the next announcement approached.
The host walked to the edge of the stage, microphone in hand.
His voice boomed:
"Ladies and gentlemen , we have a special announcement. A small change will be happening for the final match..."
The crowd leaned forward.
"As the final match of tonight’s event , we will be having a TAG TEAM battle!"
The screen changed instantly.
And on it ,
Joe.
And Wolf.
Side by side. Taking part in the final fight of the event.