The moment the fight was announced, Max had already placed the bet.
At the time, it had been done with complete confidence, under the assumption that Stephen would be going up against the scarred fighter who had originally been listed as his opponent. Everything had lined up neatly, Stephen’s previous performances, the betting odds, and the steady flow of money pouring in from the other venues.
Now, though, the image displayed for Stephen’s opponent had changed.
Standing across the platform was no longer the scarred man, but Jett.
The system itself seemed to struggle to adjust to the sudden replacement. Although betting on Stephen was still allowed, no one was permitted to place a bet on Jett winning the fight unless they had already bet on the previous fighter before the change had occurred. Even worse, the system refused to allow anyone to retract their bets.
Max clenched his jaw as he stared at the display.
’What kind of betting system works like this?’ he thought.
’This is a completely different fight. They should be forced to reset everything. And how can they just swap out a fighter at the very last second?’
It didn’t make sense, but the rules were clear. If Jett defeated Stephen, as he had done before, then Max would be forced to pay out immediately due to the deal he had made. Given the sheer size of the bet he had placed, it would carve out a painful chunk from his new earnings.
It wouldn’t weaken him outright. Not after everything he had already gained tonight. But it was still infuriating, especially now that he had finally started to feel his strength climbing again.
Of course, Max technically had another option. He didn’t have to send the money right away.
Unlike online betting platforms where funds were deducted instantly, this system relied on manual transactions. The venue itself merely recorded the bets and settled payments after the event concluded.
But that was a dangerous line to cross.
Refusing to pay would invite consequences far worse than losing money.
’What worries me more than anything,’ Max thought, ’is Stephen going up against him.’
Stephen had only just unlocked his vow. He hadn’t had enough time to fully understand its limits, let alone master its use in prolonged combat. Jett, on the other hand, was experienced, brutal, and frighteningly efficient.
"Boss, what are we going to do?" Darno asked quietly. "Do we need a backup plan for this?"
"We need a plan," Max replied, his eyes never leaving the platform. "Whether it counts as a backup or not... I don’t know."
Max quickly sent out several messages, contacting the others scattered across different venues. If anyone could intervene, it would be them. Yet as the seconds ticked by, no replies came in. Even Aron remained silent.
His grip tightened around his phone.
That meant there was only one thing left to do.
He made a call.
Whether it would change anything, Max had no idea, but doing nothing wasn’t an option.
Stephen stood firmly on the platform, his posture rigid and focused. His expression had changed completely from his earlier fights. Gone was the calm confidence he had displayed against previous opponents. In its place was something sharper, heavier.
Jett stood opposite him, towering slightly, his presence alone exerting pressure on the space between them.
"I don’t think I need to explain this to you," Jett said calmly, his voice carrying easily across the platform. "Out of everyone here, you know better than most that this won’t be like the other fights."
Stephen said nothing, his eyes locked forward.
"The opponents you’ve faced so far," Jett continued, "they weren’t random. They were chosen based on who gave me the most trouble in the past."
Jett tilted his head slightly.
"Though maybe ’trouble’ isn’t the right word. More like... the ones that annoyed me."
The signal sounded.
The fight began.
Jett didn’t raise his hands into a defensive stance. He didn’t need to. His size alone made it difficult for Stephen to land clean shots to the head. Against a taller opponent like this, Stephen knew there were only a few reliable strategies, target the chin at close range, or focus on the body until the opponent’s posture broke.
Stephen moved first.
He twisted his body and drove his fist deep into Jett’s side, aiming for the liver, a precise spot designed to bypass endurance and force pain no matter how tough the opponent was.
The hit landed cleanly.
And yet, Jett didn’t flinch.
Stephen’s eyes narrowed.
Jett responded by swinging his arms forward, not with clenched fists, but with open hands, aiming to grab. Stephen reacted instantly, hopping backward just out of reach.
’I knew it,’ Stephen thought.
’One hit was never going to be enough. His endurance is ridiculous. His body is solid all the way through.’
Jett continued to advance, each step deliberate and controlled.
"What you need to avoid," Jett said evenly, "is letting me get a hold of you."
Stephen exhaled slowly.
’I can’t let him grab me. Not even once.’
Stephen charged again, ducking under an incoming arm and driving his shoulder forward. He followed up with another punch to the same spot on Jett’s body. Then another.
Twice. Three times.
Each strike carried his full weight behind it.
’If his body is this strong,’ Stephen reasoned, ’then I need to keep hitting the same area. That’s the only way I’ll break through.’
He pulled back, circling across the platform, forcing Jett to turn.
The crowd had gone quiet.
Anyone watching could see it clearly now, Stephen wasn’t fighting like he had in the earlier matches. There was no flash, no unnecessary movement. Every step, every punch, was calculated.
Stephen darted in again, ducking another swing, but this time Jett adjusted. His elbow dropped, the rest of his arm following to block the incoming strike.
"I’m not slow," Jett said calmly. "If you keep hitting the same place, I’m going to notice."
***
*****
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