CHAPTER 289: BLOCKED AND BURIED

The call had ended, just like that.

Max hadn’t given Chrono a single second more. He didn’t ask for an explanation. He didn’t ask why Chrono had done it. He didn’t wait around for some half-hearted apology.

Because, as he had told Wolf, the decision had already been made.

There was no room left for questions. No space for second thoughts. It was done.

On the other end of the call, Chrono sat frozen, staring at the now-blank screen. After hearing everything Max had said, without even getting the chance to speak back, he found himself at a complete loss.

Then the fury came rushing in.

"Even after everything that’s happened to that damn kid, he still dares to threaten me?!" Chrono roared, slamming both fists into the desk hard enough to rattle everything on top of it.

Na had been right.

Max was someone he should have dealt with long ago. He wasn’t a pawn. He wasn’t someone who could be kept on a leash or pulled into line. He was a force, one that couldn’t be tamed.

Even Abby... Even she had only ever delayed the inevitable. That whole situation was a diluted mess, and now Chrono was realizing just how badly it had backfired.

Frustrated beyond belief, Chrono picked up his phone again. If he couldn’t scream at Max through a call, he’d send one final message. A warning, one that would remind the kid of his place.

If you want my advice, I’d leave the city. If we see you again, if any of our members even spot you, you’re dead, kid. I’m telling you this now as a reward... for being a member of the Rejected Corps.

He hit send.

A strange icon appeared next to the message.

Chrono frowned and tapped on it.

Failed to deliver.

"What the...?" he muttered. "Is there a problem with the signal?"

He tried resending. Same result.

Frustrated, he began to type another message, but again, failed to deliver. His signal was fine, everything else on his phone was working perfectly. So he did a test, he fired off a message to another contact.

That one sent without a hitch.

He tried again, obsessively tapping and resending like a madman, until Na stepped into the room, glancing at the scene with a raised brow.

"What are you trying to do?" Na asked, watching as Chrono fumbled with his phone like a man possessed.

Chrono looked up. "What does it mean when you’re trying to send a message and it just keeps saying failed to deliver, but the signal’s perfect?"

Na blinked.

"I think it means... the other person blocked you."

Chrono’s hands froze. His jaw clenched so tight it looked like his teeth might crack under the pressure.

Blocked.

He had been blocked.

By Max.

He was doing everything he could just to contain the seething rage building inside of him. Never, never, in his life had one kid made him feel like this.

Not even during his time in the military had he experienced a rage like this. The situations, the orders, the death, none of that came close to the boiling fury crawling up his spine now.

If he could, he would’ve sent every last member of the Rejected Corps on a manhunt to hunt Max down and bury him. But things weren’t that simple anymore. Not with the situation he was in.

After sending out that last message blast earlier, Dud had completely gone off radar. Not a word since. No updates. Nothing. And the Black Hounds weren’t responding either. Chrono had no idea if that was a good sign or a warning of something worse.

On top of that, the situation with the Chalkline Boys was finally drawing to a close, but that didn’t ease his mind either. If anything, it made him feel even more cornered.

Chrono couldn’t let this spiral out of control.

He couldn’t risk everything he had built, everything he was still trying to secure, being destroyed because of one kid.

Meanwhile, Max had finally been discharged from the hospital. His body had healed completely, far faster than any normal person should have. The doctors were baffled, calling his recovery a miracle. They hovered around him like scientists with a new discovery, asking questions, requesting permission to conduct studies on him, wanting to understand how someone could heal so quickly after such trauma.

Of course, Max declined.

He already knew the reason for his recovery. He didn’t need tests or theories. His body, his power, everything that made him Max, was evolving. And now, there was no more time left to wait. The damage had been done. He had lost two people, even with the group he had worked so hard to build: the Billion Bloodline.

But the past was written in stone. The only thing left to do now... was move forward.

When Max and Wolf parted ways outside the hospital, Wolf had one final request.

"My wounds aren’t as bad as they look," he said with a slight grin. "When the day comes, and I know it will, the day you decide to strike against the Rejected Corps... call me. I’ll be there."

He paused.

"And no, I’m not asking for a fee this time. I’ll be wearing the Golden Jacket... and I won’t just be standing by."

For someone like Wolf, a mercenary by nature, it was surprising. He wasn’t the type to chase revenge or hold grudges, not unless something really mattered.

But when he spoke this time, Max could hear it in his voice.

This was personal.

He didn’t know exactly what kind of impression Abby had made on Wolf, but clearly, it had been a lasting one.

Eventually, Max returned to school. Just walking through the gates again felt strange, almost surreal. Joe had been shocked to see him back so soon, but Max hadn’t come just to sit through lectures, he had a reason.

From what he’d heard, the other students already knew.

They knew about Abby.

They’d heard before he did.

And as Max sat through each class, letting the dull voices of the teachers wash over him, his mind was elsewhere. Everything he was about to do replayed in his thoughts like a film reel on loop. All he had to do now was pick the right moment.

’I’m really starting to hate this place,’ he thought. ’The school used to mean something... Now it just feels like a graveyard. A place filled with sad memories. Of people who should still be here. Of faces I’ll never see again.’

In the middle of one class, he leaned forward and rested his arms on the desk, sliding his hands underneath the table into the little shelf where students usually stored their books.

That’s when he felt them.

Several folded notes, thin pieces of paper stuffed away and forgotten.

He pulled them out slowly, his heart already beating faster. Carefully, he unfolded the first one.

Then another.

And another.

The handwriting was unmistakable.

Abby’s.

"Abby... you damn idiot," Max whispered.

Tears fell before he could stop them. Dropping silently onto the desk, they blurred the ink on the pages. But he didn’t care.

He didn’t think it was possible for someone, anyone, to hurt his heart like this.

He had been stabbed before. Shot. Cut. Bruised and broken.

But nothing... nothing had ever pierced him the way this did.

His phone vibrated on the table.

He wiped his eyes and looked down at the screen.

You have been invited. It’s in two days’ time.

Max stared at the message.

Then, his lips parted, and he spoke quietly, yet with the weight of a storm behind his words.

"That’s the day I’ll strike."