There was a reason Steven and Joe had managed to deal with their opponents more easily than expected.
The answer was simple, they had just recently fought each other. And although that fight had been rigged, it hadn’t been without cost. They’d still expended a tremendous amount of energy, their bodies carrying the bruises and scrapes from that encounter.
But there was one person in the arena who hadn’t taken part in that exhausting event. One man who stepped into the ring with no injuries, no energy loss, and no hesitation.
The one they called Elephant.
And from the moment the fight began, it was clear, out of all the competitors present, Elephant was by far the strongest.
Already, he had snapped one of Aron’s batons in half. The weapons weren’t cheap replicas, they were military-grade, reinforced, designed to withstand extreme force. And yet... in Elephant’s hands, they may as well have been twigs.
That one move confirmed it.
The metallic-looking arm he bore wasn’t just for show. It was real.
Still, Aron wasn’t defenseless. He always carried more than one baton. As he reached down and extended his arm, another weapon slid into place with a soft click.
"Haha! Are you a fool?" Elephant roared with laughter. "If it didn’t work once, what makes you think it’ll work again?"
With thunderous steps, he charged forward, intent on grabbing Aron and crushing him.
He was fast, but not faster than Aron. Sidestepping just in time, Aron brought the baton up and swung it hard, aiming right above the elbow joint of the cybernetic arm. A precise strike, sharp and deliberate.
Elephant swung his massive arm back in retaliation, but Aron had already moved again, quicker than a shadow. This time, he thrust the baton toward Elephant’s throat.
The tip hit its mark.
But instead of staggering back like most would, Elephant did the opposite. He stepped forward.
The baton bent against his throat, and with a horrible creak, it broke. Again.
It was the second time his sheer brute force had rendered one of Aron’s weapons useless.
Even without the bionic enhancement, Elephant’s body was built like a tank.
’Just as I thought,’ Wolf observed from the stands. ’That guy is A-Rank, no doubt. And almost all of his stat points go into endurance. He’s the kind of fighter that can win even against people ranked higher than him. Size, durability... when your body’s that tough to damage, even great technique struggles.’
Elephant threw out a barrage of punches, each one heavy enough to break ribs, but none of them landed. Aron was weaving and ducking, always a step ahead.
Eventually, Aron managed to slip behind his opponent. In one smooth motion, he leapt into the air, reached into his coat, and pulled out a stun gun. He jammed it into the back of Elephant’s neck, the voltage maxed out.
It was the enhanced version, the same one Aron had used in dozens of high-risk situations.
But it didn’t work.
Elephant barely flinched. Then, with one brutal turn, his metallic fist connected with Aron’s stomach, sending him crashing through the bar area. Bottles and wood splintered everywhere as Aron slid to a stop amid broken glass.
"You fool!" Elephant laughed. "You think a toy like that would stop me? I’m the strongest man in this country, maybe even the world!"
Aron groaned as he got to his feet, wiping saliva from the corner of his mouth. There were small cuts across his cheek from shattered glass, and blood trickled down his jawline.
"I’ve met someone stronger than you," Aron muttered.
Then he stomped his foot against the ground, not in anger, but with precision.
From the floor, a handle popped up. A metallic glint flipped through the air.
Without missing a beat, Aron snatched it.
It was a kitchen knife, one that had been dropped by a staff member during the chaos. He gripped it with the blade facing downward, held at a tilted angle.
Then, he dashed forward again.
Elephant swung, but the punch missed. Aron slipped inside his reach and slashed across the back of his forearm. Blood followed.
Then another strike, this time at the side of his chest.
A third slash landed across the back of his leg before Aron moved out of reach from a wild, desperate swing.
In mere moments, Elephant was bleeding from three different spots.
"What are you doing, using a tool like that?!" Elephant shouted, furious. "Fight me like a man! Fist to fist! Don’t you have any honor?"
Aron didn’t answer right away. His grip on the knife was deliberate. The way he held it, angled and firm, wasn’t instinct. It was trained skill.
There was a difference between a dagger and a kitchen knife. Military daggers had guards, designed to stop your hand from sliding onto the blade during a stab. Kitchen knives? They didn’t. They were built for slicing, not thrusting.
If you stabbed with a kitchen knife carelessly, the recoil would cut your own palm.
But Aron knew this. That’s why he wasn’t stabbing. He was slicing. Slashing. Cutting. Controlled and effective.
It proved something: Aron knew exactly how to wield a knife. He wasn’t improvising. He was proficient.
"Who cares about honor when you’re dead?" Aron said, eyes narrowing. "When you’re in a war, no one’s thinking about honor."
This time, Elephant roared and threw his metallic hand again. The swing was wild, but as before, Aron moved like water. He skimmed his blade along the edge of the arm, creating a metallic screech, then spun his entire body, sliding low across the floor and slicing across Elephant’s chest.
It wasn’t just flashy. It was effective.
Now blood poured from multiple wounds, both arms cut, bionic or not. The floor beneath them was slick with it.
Aron didn’t let up. Every time Elephant struck, he slipped past. And every time he passed, he left another deep, clean cut.
It was relentless. And now, the crowd could see what was happening.
There was no more doubt.
This fight had a winner. It was only a matter of time.
’At the end of the day,’ Wolf thought, watching with sharpened focus, ’I still rank that guy correctly. He’s S-Class. No question.’
But Wolf’s gaze shifted toward the center ring. Toward him.
’Still... that’s not the fight that matters most. The one that really counts is coming. The leader of the Bloodline group... Max. You’ve got to win this one yourself.’
Wolf’s expression hardened.
’If you want me to keep risking myself for crazy stunts like this... then prove it. Show me that you can do what needs to be done.’