From Bullets To Billions

Chapter 256: Breaking Point

A scream pierced through the chaos.

It wasn’t the usual grunts of pain or curses thrown between fists and fury, it was sharp, raw, filled with something primal. Real agony. Most of the fighters didn’t even glance up. They clenched their teeth and kept going, too caught in their own battles, their own survival. But Aron heard it. He felt it.

And he knew who it was.

That scream… that was Max… the Young Master. He’s in trouble. I need to get to him, now.

Aron’s eyes flicked past the man in front of him. Elephant. His opponent was bleeding from multiple wounds: across his thigh, his chest, both arms. Dozens of shallow cuts. They weren’t life-threatening on their own, but together they told a different story. The kind of story that ended with someone collapsing.

And yet… Elephant still stood.

Bloodied but unbroken. It was something no one could deny, his heart, his resilience. That kind of toughness was rare, and those watching would have known: the victor here was already decided. Elephant had long lost this fight, and still, he kept going. Another cut was added to his collection as Aron danced away once more.

Aron was too fast. Too experienced. His blade cut with the precision of someone who had fought a hundred battles and lived through all of them. Even when Elephant’s bionic arm intercepted an attack, it only resulted in a gash somewhere else. The man couldn’t keep up.

Was this really worth it to him? Aron wondered. Did the Black Hounds pay him that much to endure all this? Anyone else would’ve dropped out long ago. Anyone sane would’ve quit.

Taking a steady breath, Aron raised his knife once again, his head tilted slightly downward, his voice firm but restrained.

“Elephant, that’s your name, right?” Aron said, steadying his grip. “I’ve been holding back. Every strike I’ve made has avoided arteries, vital points… I haven’t aimed to kill.”

His voice dropped an octave, a cold edge entering his tone.

“But if you stay in my way any longer, I will.”

In the underground world of gangs, a death wasn’t taken lightly. Sure, it happened often, it was part of the life they’d all chosen, but that didn’t mean it came without consequences. Death brought heat. Investigations. Police sniffing around. Cover-ups. Bribes. Cleanup crews. A chain reaction of problems that no one wanted.

Especially not Aron.

He couldn’t let attention fall on Max. He couldn’t afford to land in a cell and be unable to protect the one person he swore to keep safe.

He had too much to lose.

“Young man,” Elephant said, somehow still standing tall despite his injuries. “Do you even understand the words coming out of your mouth?”

His fists clenched.

“Killing… isn’t a word you throw around lightly. Not even in our world. If you say it, you better damn well mean it!” he roared, and slammed both fists into the ground with fury.

Aron moved in a flash, dodging the strike and twisting his body as he passed by, his blade cutting even deeper into Elephant’s arm. Blood sprayed out, more than before. The strike had landed, clean and cruel.

“You don’t get to lecture me about the weight of taking a life,” Aron replied, eyes narrowed. “I carry more than you could ever imagine.”

Meanwhile, the source of the scream, Max, was barely staying conscious. His elbow had popped. The pain had sent his body reeling, a cry tearing from his throat. Something had broken, and Max knew it. His mind was hazy, his breath uneven, but through the fog of pain, he extended his arm, instinctively, protectively.

To his surprise, Dud backed off. Just a moment. A flicker of hesitation. Maybe it was an old habit… or maybe Dud had broken everything there was to break in that arm, and he was done playing.

Max gritted his teeth and pushed himself to his feet, his right arm hanging limply at his side. The pain throbbed with every movement.

Crap. Crap. Crap. Max’s thoughts spiraled. This is bad, really bad. This is exactly the kind of situation I was trying to avoid.

His arm was completely unusable. Forcing it to move was out of the question. And just as he processed that, Dud was coming at him again, charging in with full force.

Max tried to think, tried to react, but his thoughts were scrambled. He turned his body to the side, lifting his good hand to shield himself. He had lifted it in time, but Dud wasn’t only skilled at grappling, he was an overall skilled fighter.

Dud’s fist slammed into his guard, blasting straight through and striking him clean in the gut. Air left Max’s lungs. Another punch came, just as hard, this time hitting lower, right in the stomach’s soft center.

Max staggered, lifting a leg in desperation to push Dud away. But Dud was ready. He batted the leg aside and responded with a brutal kick to Max’s abdomen, he grabbed Max’s shoulders before he could move away, and then delivered a second kick even stronger, sending him flying backward.

He barely had time to recover before Dud was on him again.

Max swung with his good hand, a wild punch. It missed. But as his body spun from the momentum, he launched a hook kick, the back of his heel smacking against Dud’s forearm.

It hurt. Dud winced. But he kept coming.

With a growl, Dud lifted his leg and drove a kick straight into Max’s broken arm. The scream that followed was gut-wrenching. The blow knocked Max off balance and nearly sent him toppling to the ground.

From above, a figure watched.

Wolf.

His eyes tracked every movement, every shift in the fight. And from his vantage point, the truth was clear.

Dud had already been winning even before Max got injured. Now, with one arm limp and useless?

There’s no path to victory, Wolf thought grimly. I hate to admit it… but Max is completely outmatched. This fight might’ve been too far above his rank.