From Bullets To Billions novel Chapter 411

Chapter 411: Find Sheri

Max’s allies continued their fight and, with their high skill, they were able to do rather well even if they were outnumbered.

They moved like a single organism at times , a ring of shoulders and elbows and feet , each person aware of the other’s breathing, of the small shifts that said where an opening might appear. The group had naturally formed a circle of sorts, where they were able to cover each other’s backs in a fight. It looked messy to anyone not part of it, but there was a rhythm underneath the chaos. They had practiced this kind of movement before, in other places, for other reasons; it showed now in the way they flowed.

It wasn’t their first time fighting with each other, and on top of that everyone appeared to have been training in their own way. Small habits surfaced: the tilt of an elbow, the way a shoulder rose and fell, the quick breath before a strike. Even the pauses carried meaning , seconds taken to reset, to notice, to plan.

This included even Na. He never stopped. If anything, after the loss of the Rejected Corps and not knowing what to do with himself, he had trained harder than he had in the past. There had been a kind of hunger in him since then, a need to prove that he still had purpose. Now, not only could he give quick, concise, and heavy blows that were compact, but he could do so in rather quick succession. They were not flashy moves; they were efficient and dangerous. They landed like the finality of a verdict.

Stephen was noticing as he continued to fight himself and was analyzing Na. He watched the way Na’s shoulders coiled and released, the rhythm of his feet, the economy of movement. Small lessons showed themselves to someone looking for them.

’He’s naturally got a strong base for his hits,’ Stephen thought, eyes narrowing as he dodged a swinging pipe. ’He knows his strength and weaknesses; his body isn’t designed to be fast. He could never fight like Joe, who relies on his stamina and sharpness , Na’s body just isn’t that versatile like mine.

’His style is almost like a boxing brawler... but what’s amazing is how he can throw out haymakers after haymakers. He’s doing it without overextending, and he’s doing it without over-tiring.

’Could this be... the making... of another world champion?’

Stephen’s mind raced with comparisons, training theories, and the small, dangerous pride that comes when someone else’s potential looks like it could eclipse your own. He smiled under his breath for a moment and kept moving.

Just then a metallic bat hit Stephen right on his thigh, causing him to screech in pain. The sound tore out of him and went raw in the air. Pain sharpened his focus more than any scolding ever had.

"What is wrong with this weirdo, he was smiling in the middle of fighting us!" one of the Black Hound members shouted, anger and confusion tangling in his voice.

"Well, he ain’t smiling no more!" another barked back, the fight answering the shock with brute force.

The group swung the pipe again, but this time Stephen charged forward and threw out a punch, hitting the person in the face before the blow had landed on his leg. Movement and timing met like two gears sliding into place; the attacker’s balance broke and he staggered.

"Can’t any of you just let me dream a little!" Stephen snapped, breath heavy, the pain in his thigh forming a dull drum against adrenaline. His words were half-laugh, half-cry , a small human sound in the middle of the violence , and it hung there oddly, like an old song played in the wrong place.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify