From Bullets To Billions novel Chapter 473

Chapter 473: Unlocking Something New

Joe stared down at Gyro lying motionless on the ground, his chest slowly rising and falling. For a moment, he expected, almost feared, that Gyro would suddenly push himself back up. The man had been taking hit after hit and just kept coming, refusing to stay down. Joe had struck him until his knuckles ached, until his bones felt like they were rattling inside his fists.

This fight had been hard for him, but not physically.

Not really.

The real battle had been in his mind.

Even before the match started, when they ambushed him in the bathroom... he’d wondered why he was going through all of this. Why he had to endure the pain.

Why he didn’t just walk away...

And then, in the fight, when Gyro seemed unstoppable and Joe’s fists had grown raw, when it felt like Gyro would never fall, something inside Joe had whispered, Just stop.

Just give up.

But then the Vow he made clawed its way back into his mind.

All the shame. All the moments he’d run from problems and responsibility. All the times he’d quit before he ever tried.

That memory pushed him.

And now Gyro... wasn’t getting back up at all.

"Damn it, what is going on?! Was he faking his injuries?" Vivian blurted from her seat, shock trembling in her voice. She was so stunned she couldn’t even think her thoughts inwardly for once; the words spilled straight out of her mouth.

"No... no, that can’t be it, those hits were heavy! There was blood everywhere! He couldn’t have been faking it! Did he just get through it with sheer willpower or what?!"

Vivian was so fixated on Joe that she didn’t even notice what was happening on the other side of the pit.

Because Wolf...

Wolf had stopped holding back.

The moment Wolf saw Joe finish his fight, something switched inside him.

Now he could go all in.

Wolf moved like a beast unchained. He slammed his fists into El’s ribs, the force of each punch thudding loudly across the pit. He twisted his body, dodging every incoming strike with perfect timing, then countered with hits that cracked across El’s face.

His movements flowed effortlessly, as if moving from one motion to the next was as natural as breathing. He didn’t pause. He didn’t slow. He pushed harder and harder, stringing together attacks like a storm building power.

But Wolf knew the truth.

He wasn’t just moving faster. He wasn’t just fighting harder. During this prolonged fight, longer than any traditional match he’d had, his mind unlocked something new. He could read El.

Not through magic. Not through some supernatural sense. But through pure, raw, perfected instinct.

Human beings liked to think they were unpredictable. Unique.

Wild. But Wolf knew better.

Every person, every fighter, had patterns. Habits.

Reflexes drilled into them through years of training that became automatic.

And El, being a trained fighter, was the worst offender of all.

He reacted the same way to the same feints. His shoulders tensed a certain way when he attacked high.

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