From Bullets To Billions novel Chapter 517

Chapter 517: Darno’s Vow (Part 2)

Darno returned to his stance, his feet planted firmly against the floor, his posture calm and centered. This time, however, there was a noticeable difference in his presence. The confidence he carried now was not forced, nor was it reckless. It was the confidence of someone who finally understood himself.

Across from him, Jett rolled his shoulders, clearly irritated.

Darno could feel the faint throbbing in his forearm where Jett had grabbed him earlier. The skin there was red, heated, and tender, a reminder that even now, he could not allow himself to be careless. If Jett managed to get a proper grip again, the consequences could still be severe. But unlike before, his bones had held. His arm hadn’t shattered. His hand hadn’t been crushed.

That alone told him everything he needed to know.

This time... things are different.

Part of Darno couldn’t help but remember the past, the regret that had lingered longer than he liked to admit. The memory of failing to stop Jett before. The moment Sheri had been taken, and he had been powerless to prevent it. That failure had stayed with him, etched into his mind like a scar that never faded.

This fight wasn’t just another battle.

It was a second chance.

Jett lunged forward again, his massive frame surging with force as he threw a heavy punch aimed directly at Darno’s head. Darno didn’t dodge. He didn’t step back. Instead, his arm moved with precision, snapping upward to deflect the strike at the wrist.

The impact echoed sharply through the arena.

Before Jett could recover, Darno countered, his fist snapping forward at the exact moment the opening appeared. The punch landed squarely against Jett’s chest, solid and controlled, yet undeniably powerful.

Jett grunted, his body rocking backward a step.

Darno exhaled slowly, keeping his breathing steady.

I can feel it now, he thought. This isn’t just strength. It’s control.

Once again, Jett attacked, this time throwing a rapid combination of punches, swinging with his full body weight, attempting to overwhelm Darno with sheer power. Darno’s arms moved like clockwork, each block precise, each parry perfectly timed. His feet barely shifted as he redirected each blow, knocking them aside by the wrists and forearms before they could come close to his body.

To the crowd, it almost looked unreal.

It was as if Darno stood in the center of a storm, untouched.

Each time Jett overextended, Darno struck back, not wildly, not recklessly, but with purpose. Every counter was delivered at the perfect moment, each punch carrying weight far heavier than his size suggested.

Jett staggered again, this time clearly surprised.

"That... actually hurt," Jett muttered, rubbing his chest.

Darno said nothing. His eyes remained focused, his breathing measured.

This is it, Darno realized. This is what my martial art was meant to be.

The style Darno practiced was not flashy. It was not aggressive. It was a sub-branch of Karate passed down through his teacher, one that emphasized defense above all else. Unlike other styles that blended kicks, throws, and constant movement, this art was rooted in standing firm, blocking, redirecting, and striking only when the moment was right.

It demanded patience.

It demanded discipline.

And above all, it demanded trust in one’s own defense.

During his training, Darno had endured countless painful exercises. Punching tree trunks barehanded until his knuckles bled. Striking wooden boards wrapped in rope over and over again. Driving his fists into buckets of hot sand without flinching, forcing his body to adapt, to harden.

At the time, he had thought it was brutal.

Now, he understood.

Those years of conditioning had forged his hands into weapons. His fists, wrists, and forearms were already stronger than most fighters’. What his Vow had done was take that foundation, and reinforce it.

The power granted to Darno was not explosive strength. It wasn’t speed or regeneration. Instead, it was something far more subtle, yet terrifyingly effective.

His bones.

The density of his bones had increased across his entire body.

Not just his fists, but his forearms, shoulders, ribs, legs, and even his skull. It wasn’t enough to slow him down, nor did it restrict his movement. Instead, it made him solid, unnaturally so.

Every strike he delivered carried more weight.

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