Darno had already stepped down from the stage after his bout, though his walk lacked the usual swagger. His hand was clamped over his forearm, gripping it tightly.
The adrenaline from the fight was fading, and in its place, a dull, searing pain began to crawl through his arm. It throbbed in rhythm with his heartbeat.
Is it fractured? he wondered, flexing his fingers and immediately regretting it when the pain spiked again. That kick from that guy... he was insanely strong. If the two of us were to fight for real, I’m honestly not sure who would come out on top.
The thought unsettled him.
How have we never even heard of any of these people? Are they just some random hired goons from this so-called VC company?
But when Darno glanced toward Max, standing calmly near the edge of the stage, something about that idea didn’t sit right.
The way Max interacted with them, Wolf, Na, even that boxer kid Joe, it didn’t feel like they were strangers or temporary contractors. It felt personal, like each of them was someone he knew well, someone he trusted enough to bring here.
And then there was the biggest question mark of all:
Why was Max able to fight at all?
Darno couldn’t get the image out of his mind, the whispers about how Max had supposedly beaten up two of the guards days ago. He hadn’t seen it himself, but he had seen the aftermath: two men barely able to stand, their faces a mess.
As he pondered this, Max’s voice carried across the room.
"Alright, alright," Max said casually, "how about for the next assessment... I’ll give it a go."
Darno’s head snapped up.
Wait... he’s going to go up against others? Him? Right now?
Excitement crackled through him like static. He wished his arm wasn’t numb. It was a shame he had injured it earlier, he wanted to be the one to test Max.
Although Max had managed to knock out two of their men before, those weren’t the strongest the Fortis Group had to offer. Not even close. So who really knew how strong this red-haired mystery was?
Still, seeing how everyone here obeyed him without question, how Wolf and Joe had obeyed him, Darno couldn’t shake the feeling that this man might just be the strongest one in the room.
A hush fell over the gathered guards, and then a voice broke through from the back of the crowd.
"Hey, there he goes, the representative trying to show off again."
It was a mutter, but it carried enough that others heard it.
"Right," another chimed in. "He must have gotten confident after watching so many of us fail. Now he thinks he can actually take us on himself."
Darno wanted to turn around and slap them both. Idiots.
They had no idea what they were talking about.
Not too long ago, he had been just like them, sneering, doubting, thinking the same arrogant thoughts. But not anymore. He could see it now.
There was only one clear way for Max to shut them all up. To reveal what he really was.
Last time, Max had refused to fight. He had stood back, silent and watchful, letting Na handle everything. At the time, Darno thought it was cowardice. Now he understood.
There had been no reason for Max to reveal himself. No reason to show what he was capable of.
But after watching Wolf and Darno clash, after feeling the tension in the room rise to a fever pitch, Max was clearly itching for a turn.
He was, after all, a delinquent at heart. A man who had led his own gang once, who lived for the rush of using his fists.
It was right up his alley.
Just as Max was rolling his shoulders and stepping toward the mat, a voice cut through the air like a knife.
"What are you doing?"
Max froze.
His skin prickled. It was rare for someone to make him shiver, but that voice always did. Slowly, reluctantly, he turned his head. And there he was. The man in the immaculate black suit, glasses glinting coldly in the overhead lights.
Aron.

I didn’t even call him here today... so why is he here?
What were the security guards doing to let him in? Or... did Aron just force his way in and track me down?
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