The second Dipter broke out of that high-security prison, he had one burning focus, one single goal in mind—and that was to completely tear Max down. Max was, after all, the entire reason he’d ended up in that concrete hellhole to begin with.
A sudden variable. A ghost who had forcefully entered his perfect life and completely ruined everything he had meticulously planned. Because of Max, Dipter hadn’t even gotten to enjoy finishing his final years of youth in high school; instead, he’d been rotting away in a sterile cell all because of one person: Max Stern.
He’d never expected Max to be keeping busy outside. He’d honestly assumed the guy was just living a sweet, comfortable life after getting rid of his rivals, and Dipter had been entirely ready to smash that reality to pieces.
But hearing the rumors that Max had built an actual empire from the ground up only spurred Dipter on even more, igniting a desperate wish to topple the whole thing over. He’d researched every single move Max had made since the campus lockdown, and he’d been genuinely surprised to hear how he’d systematically wiped out the Rejected Corps and kept pushing forward until he had a Syndicate-level fortress of his own.
Because of that, he knew the legendary story of Max besting the core members of the Black Hounds.
But Darius wasn’t exactly a weak target by any stretch of the imagination, and that reality hit home the exact second the champion threw a lightning-fast counter-strike. Dipter rapidly shifted backward, trying to shield his stomach from the incoming kinetic force, but the punch cleanly bypassed his guard and cracked him straight across the jaw.
Dipter scrambled to reset his defensive frame, tracking another heavy fist flying directly at his face, but it was a calculated distraction—a brutal low kick caught him hard in the ribs instead. Forcing through the pain, Dipter unleashed a frantic flurry of snap kicks, desperate to create a wider pocket of distance so Darius couldn’t follow up with a terminating combination.
"What’s the matter? Where’s all that unearned confidence you were just barking about?" Darius taunted, stepping back into a tight guard.
Although he sounded completely relaxed, an intense wave of worry was mounting in Darius’ chest. From the corner of his eye, he could see Jett and that monstrous hooded teenager locked in a brutal struggle on the shattered canvas. It didn’t look like Jett was going to be able to pull off a miracle win, and there were even more unknown figures lurking at Donto’s VIP table, watching the brawl with cold smiles.
Darius calculated, his breathing turning shallow.
In a lot of ways, Jett’s conditioning was a terrible match for a powerhouse like Hugo. Jett relied entirely on his resilient body and an unbreakable grip to wear down opponents, meaning a freak with bottomless physical strength would eventually snap his bones.
But if Darius could somehow execute a rapid switch, he might hold a statistical chance of out-maneuvering the giant using his speed, while Jett handled the agile kid.
Locking down the plan, Darius exploded forward to force the rotation, but Dipter anticipated the movement, sliding directly into his path with a wicked grin.
"You really want to abandon our dance so soon?" Dipter asked, his eyes flashing. "Now you’re just going to make me sad. You haven’t even taken me out to dinner yet."
As Dipter waited for the next strike, he saw a massive fist sailing straight toward his face, but he didn’t care. He chose to entirely ignore the defensive risk, trusting his own specialized agility instead as he spun his body through the air in a breathtaking arc. His heel cut through the pocket and caught Darius right across the temple with a sickening thud.
Blood splattered out of Darius’ mouth, the force of the kick nearly taking him off his feet, but through sheer stubborn pride, he remained standing.
Darius thought, his vision blurring slightly as he reset his stance.
Darius lunged forward again, pushing his aura to the absolute ceiling as he threw a devastating straight right aimed directly at Dipter’s face. But Dipter didn’t back down; he met the punch with an identical explosive force, launching a high kick at the exact micro-second.
Because of the perfect, aggressive trajectory of Dipter’s leg, his shin collided with Darius’ arm mid-air. When the two forces crashed together, the raw bone conditioning of the teenager won out, shattering Darius’ momentum and sending him stumbling back.
"My power, my speed—I spent every single second in that cell conditioning the bones in my legs just for this!" Dipter screamed, his face contorting into a mask of pure rage. "You’re just the very first step on my ladder to get to Max!"
Ten minutes. After ten grueling, chaotic minutes, the fights were completely over.
Jett had been brutally pounded in the face until his consciousness finally slipped, leaving him passed out in a pool of dark blood on the ruined canvas. Darius had been subjected to a merciless barrage of high-velocity kicks, absorbing countless strikes until his body finally hit the hardwood floorboards. He lay there motionless, unable to drag himself back up.
The crowd was frozen in absolute horror, the workers were stunned into silence, and not a single soul in the arena had a clue what the next play was.
"Well... it looks like your terrible luck finally rubbed off on the home team," Bobo commented dryly, leaning back into the sofa.
Beside her, Chad stood perfectly still, his mouth wide open in utter shock as he stared at the broken champions. The very first thought that cut through his panic was clear: this was a catastrophic security breach, and he needed to report it to Max immediately.
"Well, now that was an exceptionally beautiful show!" Dud shouted, clapping his hands together with an arrogant grin as he stepped over the ropes and onto the stage. "Dipter, you performed beautifully tonight. You absolutely needed a real milestone like this for your personal growth. I knew you were an elite asset the second I met you in the stacks."
Hearing the boasting words, a low, wet chuckle suddenly escaped from Darius’ throat as he lay on the mat. He forced his eyes open, spitting a mouthful of crimson onto the canvas.
"You honestly think you’re special just because you managed to beat a couple of washed-up champions?" Darius whispered, a dark, blood-soaked smile breaking through his bruised features. "You idiots think you’re operating on the same level as the upper echelon now? You have absolutely no idea... you don’t have a single clue how terrifyingly strong the real Billion Bloodline group is."