From Bullets To Billions novel Chapter 482

Chapter 482: Who The F*ck Are You? (Part 1)

Evon had just finished his match, and as he stepped away from the ring he showed little reaction to the applause or the murmurs of surprise that followed him. He was returning to his seat, expression steady, posture relaxed, but internally his mind was occupied. He had already tested the exoskeleton enough to understand most of its practical capabilities. What he had not done, however, was test it against a truly powerful opponent, someone who could push its limits and force him to measure its effectiveness under extreme pressure. But he doubted he would find anyone of that caliber in an event like this, even among the more seasoned participants.

Because of that, Evon remained undecided about how he should handle the rest of the evening. Part of him considered simply withdrawing from the event altogether and leaving the venue. The test had already met its primary objectives, and nothing else tonight seemed capable of challenging him. The other part of him, however, toyed with the idea of continuing the fights but turning off the exoskeleton’s power enhancements so he could enjoy the remaining rounds and assess his personal ability without the suit’s support. He was aware that continuing to dominate too obviously would attract attention, and attention was precisely what he wished to avoid.

His thoughts were interrupted when, upon returning to the seating area, three waiters suddenly approached him. They moved with an oddly rehearsed coordination, forming a semicircle as soon as he came into view.

"The host would like to have a word with you," one of the waiters said. He leaned in, smiling unnaturally. "And I’m sure you understand this is something you’re expected to accept."

The way he emphasized expected was not lost on Evon. There was no threat stated directly, yet it was clear enough. Evon slowly turned his gaze toward the man, studying him for a moment before giving a short nod. He stood up from his chair without further comment.

Watching from a distance, Na immediately noticed Evon’s movement and the sudden appearance of the waiters. He knew Evon was not the type to be escorted anywhere without reason. Na’s eyes narrowed. Don’t these Black Hounds know who he is... or maybe that’s exactly why they’re taking him somewhere. The uncertainty gnawed at him.

Evon was led down a hallway, deeper into the venue. The walls shifted from decorated corridors to a more industrial, plain environment. Eventually he reached what appeared to be a storage room. Most of the shelves were filled with bottles and crates, but the center of the room had been cleared out, creating an open space. Around that open area stood a significant number of guards, every one of them a member of the Black Hound gang. Their attention shifted to Evon as he entered.

Near the back of the room stood the masked host wearing the familiar headpiece with the glowing question-mark icon. His posture was stiff, his masked expression unreadable, but his intent was obvious.

"Please. Sit," the host said, gesturing toward a single chair positioned in the middle of the room.

Evon walked toward it, but when he reached the chair he did not lower himself into it. Instead, he gripped the backrest with one hand, leaving the chair between them as a barrier.

"Do you believe you’re in a position to make demands of me?" Evon asked, tone calm but undeniably firm.

A faint chuckle escaped the host.

"Right... fighters are always so confident. So unaware of the full scale of the underworld. You act as if you’re more than a single grain in a world far larger than you comprehend."

Evon said nothing, simply listening.

"I will assume ignorance on your part," the host continued. "A moment of generosity, let’s call it. You see, you are an unexpected variable in tonight’s event. But variables can be useful if handled correctly."

He took a small step forward.

"You’ve won all of your matches, and not just won , you’ve dominated. The guests are beginning to see you as one of tonight’s strongest contenders. In your next fight, we plan to pair you with someone... less than ideal. Someone who will, naturally, make the crowds confident in your victory."

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