From Bullets To Billions novel Chapter 678

Chapter 678: Not The Same Stern

There was a part of Max that had deep down expected this to happen. The entire reason Aron had infiltrated the university under the humble guise of a janitor was for this exact purpose: to act as a shadow guardian. Aron was the man who had promised to protect him regardless of the situation, a silent sentinel who operated in the background while Max tried to navigate his "normal" life.

Even within the seemingly safe confines of a university basketball court, Max knew that if enough time passed without a check-in, Aron would inevitably come investigating. In fact, knowing Aron’s meticulous nature, he had likely been tailing the group from the very beginning. He had probably been standing just behind the heavy metal doors, listening to the taunts and the sounds of the beatdown, merely waiting for the tactically perfect moment to strike when the hostages were most vulnerable and the seniors were most distracted.

What Max appreciated more than anything was that Aron had prioritized the safety of the students over jumping in to help Max himself. It was a silent admission of respect; it appeared that Aron was finally starting to trust Max’s evolved abilities. He had evaluated the scene and concluded that Max could handle a physical pounding, but the freshmen could not.

However, just as the students were being pulled to safety, the seniors didn’t stop. A massive senior from the rugby team, a man built like a boulder, seized the moment of distraction. He lunged forward and delivered a brutal, heavy kick to the back of Max’s leg. The force was enough to make Max’s knee jolt and buckle, sending him crashing down onto the hardwood floor.

A collective scream erupted from the freshmen watching from the sidelines. The sight of their "hero" falling to his knees after such a sustained beating sent a fresh wave of panic through them.

"Hey! You’re here to help, right? Why are you just standing there? Go and help him!" Yovan screamed at Aron, her voice shrill with desperation.

Before Aron could respond, a burst of loud, mocking laughter bounced off the high walls of the hall, interrupting the chaos. The sound was coming from Donto, who was watching the scene with a look of manic amusement.

"Oh, so there’s a small change in our itinerary," Donto said, stepping forward and spreading his arms wide. "But look at you. It’s just one more person—a janitor? Do you really think that changes the math? Do all of you idiots really believe he can do something now that we don’t have the leverage of the students? Max, did you truly think that even if you were in perfect condition, you could fight your way through a room of thirty seniors? You’ve lost your damned mind."

One of the seniors standing directly in front of Max, emboldened by Donto’s words, wound up a heavy punch aimed straight for Max’s bloodied face. But the fist never landed. With a blur of motion, Max’s hand shot up, catching the senior’s wrist in a grip that felt like a closing vice.

"Your knuckles look a bit red," Max said, his voice coming out as a low, dangerous growl. "I guess you hit me a bit too much."

Max placed one foot firmly on the floor and stood up, the senior’s arm still trapped in his grasp. The athlete tried to pull away, his face contorting in sudden pain, but he was pinned in place.

Max jerked the man forward, pulling him off balance. In the same motion, Max readied his own fist and unleashed a strike that carried the accumulated weight of his frustration. The punch hurled into the man’s face with the force of a wrecking ball. The sound of the impact was sickening—the distinct crack of a jawbone shattering echoed through the hall. When Max let go, the man didn’t just fall; he flew backward several feet and hit the floor, completely unconscious before his body even stopped sliding.

Another pair of seniors lunged at him, swinging wild punches, but Max was no longer a stationary target. He ducked under their attacks with fluid, predatory grace and swung a heavy counter-punch deep into the first attacker’s side. He felt the ribs give way under his knuckles, a sharp pop that sent the man to the ground gasping for air.

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