CHAPTER 252: THE BLOODLINE’S RED JACKET

Something strange was unfolding, something no one could have predicted. Two new challengers had entered the ring, and the energy in the arena shifted immediately. One was Hawk, tall and muscular, his presence like a wrecking ball. The other, calmly stepping under the harsh spotlight, was Steven, representing the Bloodline group. He wore the red jacket now, his status undeniable.

Under the light, the jacket looked even more striking than before. It wasn’t just a fashion choice anymore. It was a symbol. A warning.

When Hawk caught sight of it, his body tensed. Muscles bulged beneath his shirt as he flexed instinctively, making himself appear even more massive than usual, like a bear preparing for battle.

"You look a lot older than the others," Hawk commented, almost scoffing.

"A lot older?" Steven repeated, his smile twitching slightly at the corners of his mouth.

"I’m guessing, since you’re wearing that red jacket, you’re the leader, right?" Hawk shouted, fists tightening. "So if I take you down, all of these guys go tumbling with you!"

Without waiting for a reply, Hawk charged in.

He didn’t barrel forward like an amateur. No, he moved smart, fast, cutting sideways as he ran, putting calculated pressure on Steven to shift with him. He was trying to trap him.

And it worked, almost.

As Steven moved to pivot, Hawk closed the space, forcing him into the corner of the ring. His large frame loomed, cutting off all exits.

"You’re an idiot for listening to me and stepping in this ring," Hawk growled, grinning wide. "I’ve got you right where I want you!"

Like a bull on the charge, Hawk lunged in, arms spread for a crushing tackle. But instead of impact, all he grabbed was air. His momentum carried him past, crashing him into the corner of the ring with a dull thud.

’How did I miss...?’

Up high in the arena, someone had a perfect view, someone sharp-eyed and observant.

’He ducked under that, bent his knees incredibly low. Lower than the waist even... For an old man, he’s got powerful knees. And to spring up that quickly? He’s got serious strength in those thighs,’ the observer thought, eyes narrowing.

Hawk turned, blinking in disbelief, and there was Steven, already behind him.

Frustrated, Hawk tried again to grab him. But just like before, Steven slipped past with inhuman speed. He crouched low, barely off the floor, and then, boom, he rocketed upward, his fist slamming directly into Hawk’s jaw.

The force was explosive. Every ounce of strength from his legs transferred through his hips, up into his arm, and into the punch. Hawk’s eyes rolled back on impact. But Steven wasn’t finished. He stepped in and followed up with a powerful hook, sending Hawk’s body sliding across the canvas, face scraping the floor.

"You’re right," Steven said calmly, standing tall above his downed opponent. "Ever since I put on this red jacket, I’ve been given more responsibility."

He exhaled slowly, glancing at the crowd of Bloodline members watching closely.

"I train these guys. I’m the one who puts them on this path. So it’s only right that I lead. If I lost to someone as useless as you... then we’d be doomed."

In the stands, Wolf watched, genuinely impressed. Steven’s moves had clear boxing roots, but they weren’t limited by the traditional rules of the sport. No, this was something else. He was adapting, shaping his fighting style for real-life scenarios. For the street.

And there was more, his physical condition was improving fast. Unlike Max, Steven was in his real body, slowly bringing it back to its former glory.

’From what I’ve seen... I’d put him at an A-rank fighter. Actually, more accurately, an A-minus. He’s definitely grown a lot in a short time, but I still think I could take him,’ Wolf thought. Still, he kept his eyes on the ring, continuing his silent evaluations.

Another matchup caught his interest, Joe’s.

Wolf had seen Joe in action once before, so he had a baseline. Joe’s opponent, Sniper, seemed close to a C-rank fighter, maybe even touching B-rank territory.

At first glance, Joe was struggling. All he could do was dodge Sniper’s relentless attacks. The taller opponent’s long limbs came at him like whips, constantly testing his guard.

Yet... there was something to Joe’s movements. Something clean. Sharp.

’His dodging... it’s actually impressive,’ Wolf noted.

Joe, for his part, was focused like never before.

’I trained with Steven harder than ever after my loss to that guy, Dud,’ Joe thought, teeth clenched as he slipped past another strike. ’Steven made me focus on three things: stamina, my jab, and dodging.’

That training was paying off.

The reason Joe could dodge Sniper’s punches was simple, Steven was faster, sharper, and hit harder. If he could dodge Steven, then Sniper was manageable.

But Joe noticed something else.

’He’s telegraphing his punches. He’s moving his whole shoulder before every hit...’

That gave him an opening.

Steven never gave those kinds of tells. But Joe could see them here, and that gave him confidence.

’This guy’s like me. He’s just a puncher. So if I can close the distance...’

Joe dove in, moving low and fast. With sharp, precise jabs, he struck Sniper in the stomach, one, two, three clean hits.

Sniper tried to retaliate, swinging hard, but Joe dodged again, staying laser-focused.

Another flurry, four, five jabs to the gut.

The rhythm repeated. Joe was building a pattern, and something was changing in the ring.

Sniper was slowing down.

The body shots were taking their toll, and it showed in his movement.

Then, finally, crack! crack!, Joe landed his first two jabs clean on Sniper’s face.

From outside the ring, Steven watched in awe.

’I can’t believe what I’m seeing,’ he thought. ’The speed, the strength, almost all of Joe’s stats would place him around a C-rank.’

But that wasn’t the whole picture.

’He’s using everything he’s got. Not wasting energy on fancy moves. Just relying on what he’s practiced, executing it perfectly. Like a character with a limited moveset but absolute mastery over those few techniques.’

Steven let out a small grin.

’The fight’s already decided. I’ll give you a C+, kid. You’ve earned it.’