Trouble was brewing on all fronts.
At Na, Aron, and Sheri’s underground venue, what was supposed to be the safe , simple , and least complicated battlefield, the situation had flipped violently out of control. What had begun as nothing more than a betting event was now spiraling into something none of them could have predicted.
And at the same time, in a different location altogether, chaos had erupted for Chad, Joe, and Wolf.
Chad had been tossed into the pit of his venue like a sack of meat, thrown down alongside Joe and Wolf. Vivian, who they believed would play by the rules, had instead chosen to betray them. She placed a ten-million bounty on their heads, an amount large enough to drive every fighter, every Black Hound member, and even the private bodyguards accompanying wealthy customers into a frenzy.
Every single person in that venue now looked at the three men the same way:
As prey.
But the final front of trouble, and perhaps the most dangerous of all, was unfolding around Max.
He stood aboard a massive ship already sailing out into the dark open sea. The air was colder here, sharper, carrying the scent of salt and metal. Two of the Black Hounds’ most powerful figures, Darius Vale and Jett Corbin, were present on this floating arena. These two weren’t just key members. They practically controlled the entire Black Hounds syndicate.
Max knew exactly what he was walking into.
He had prepared for the worst.
And yet, at the same time, he still clung to a sliver of hope that this situation wouldn’t completely turn against him.
"Are you alright? We can always swap if you want to," Darno asked carefully.
Stephan shook his head. "It’s fine," he replied, steady and composed. "I’m alright. It’s not the first time I’ve fought in front of a crowd... and besides, this is something our group needs to deal with."
He looked back at Darno with a firm expression.
"You stay with the boss. Protect him if anything goes wrong."
Darno exhaled softly. There was disappointment hidden beneath his steady features. He had gone off to train, to find his old teacher again. During that time he had worked tirelessly, not just to reforge his strength, but to deepen his Vow as well. He had wanted to prove himself. To show that he had grown.
And deep down, he’d hoped to catch the eye of a particular individual.
As he stood by Max’s side, Darno allowed himself a small glance toward Jett Corbin, who was moving across the deck like a silent shadow, speaking briefly with others but never leaving Darius’ side.
’I thought maybe... just maybe... there would be a chance to redeem myself after what happened last time,’ Darno thought.
’But if I did beat Jett... there’s a good chance they’d just get jealous. They’d send everyone after us. And that wouldn’t help anyone.’
So he watched. And waited.
And held his disappointment quietly inside.
The fights on the ship had a very different atmosphere from the underground venues.
There was no cage.
No pit.
No blood-soaked concrete.
Instead, the fighting area was marked by a wide, open space of alternating black-and-white tiles, almost like an oversized dance floor. Polished. Clean. Elegant, strangely at odds with the brutality it was meant to host.
There were no strange ring-out rules.
If someone stepped off the tiles, the match didn’t end.
They simply had to return to the fighting area before the opponent could resume attacking.
It was a battlefield disguised as a ballroom.
And then the first fight of the night began.
The ship swayed with the movement of the ocean. Not gently, violently. Waves tossed the vessel from side to side, and the fighters felt every shift. Timing became unpredictable. Even strong fighters found themselves missing punches as the floor tilted beneath them.
Max leaned forward slightly, narrowing his eyes.
’It’s a good thing Stephan didn’t go first. This is useful. We can learn how the ship affects the pacing.’
He observed carefully.
He wasn’t here for spectacle.
He wasn’t here to gamble for fun.
He was here to survive .
And to secure the maximum amount of money possible before the Black Hounds inevitably turned their attention toward him.
Fortunately, the precedence had already been set: winnings were paid out instantly after each successful bet. Max had used this to his advantage, accumulating small amounts piece by piece.
But now?
He wasn’t going to risk anything on the random matches.
There was no point gambling on fighters he didn’t know.
Max had already made up his mind,
He would only bet on one person:
Stephan.
If the Black Hounds intended to target him for winning too much, then they would target him regardless of how many matches he bet on. Better, then, to focus all resources on the fights they could reliably win.
A couple more matches went by, each one affected by the unpredictable movement of the ship. Some fighters managed to adapt quickly, using the rocking motion to dodge at strange angles. Others stumbled, slipping on the tiles as blows struck them harder than expected.
And then, finally,
Stephan’s name was called.
He rose from the bench, rolling his shoulders, breathing deeply. He walked toward the stage, only fifteen meters from where Max and Darno were seated.
Darno leaned forward anxiously.
"He’s going to be alright... right?" Darno asked.
Max didn’t hesitate.
"He passed Aron’s test," Max said. "And he has his own Vow."
He glanced at Stephan’s back as the man stepped into the ring.
"That means he’s no longer an ordinary human. So yes, he has a pretty good chance."
Max’s expression sharpened.
The ship rocked again.
Spectators murmured.
Darius and Jett watched from above, their eyes cold and calculating.
The fight was about to begin.
****
*****
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