CHAPTER 307: THE WEIGHT OF A HIGHER RANK

Wolf had been tracking the flow of the battle as he always did, his eyes constantly flicking between the fighters, reading the movement of the crowd. It wasn’t just instinct, it was habit. And in that constant sweep of the chaos, he’d noticed something.

Aron wasn’t far behind them.

He was almost shadowing their advance, stepping in whenever someone got too close to Max, dispatching threats with brutal efficiency. Because of him, the path forward had been far easier than it should have been.

Wolf’s gut told him Aron wasn’t just hanging around by coincidence, he was waiting. Watching. Holding himself back for the right opponent. The kind of opponent who could turn the tide of a fight. And Wolf’s guess had been dead on.

This wasn’t like their battle against the Black Hounds, where they’d had to deal with multiple high-caliber fighters spread across the field. The Rejected Corps and Chalkline Boys were different. Their numbers were high, but their elite fighters were few. And among those few, one stood out above the rest.

Na.

He was easily the most troublesome, a fighter whose raw strength could break the momentum of the Bloodline Group if left unchecked. Wolf could only hope Aron had realized this as well, and from the look of it, he had.

An S-rank fighter to take down an A+ rank fighter. That was what it would take. And Wolf couldn’t help but smirk to himself, knowing that Na had no idea what he was walking into.

"You blocked my punch... with a baton?" Na said, his voice dripping with disbelief. "With my strength, those can’t be any ordinary batons."

There was a reason for his suspicion. Na was wearing black gloves, but not just any gloves. These were reinforced at the knuckles with steel, giving them the same bone-cracking effect as brass knuckles, but with far more fluidity of movement. Even without them, Na’s punches were devastating. With them, they could crush bone like glass.

And yet, the man in front of him had stopped his strike cold, and the batons hadn’t even cracked.

"I’ve been failing my tasks a lot lately," Aron said evenly, lowering his batons to his sides. "And since trouble has been popping up more and more, I’ve had to be... better prepared."

The batons in Aron’s hands weren’t the same ones he’d used before. His old set had broken under the strain of previous fights, and he’d taken the opportunity to have new ones custom-made.

These were built differently. Portions of the batons were made from carbon fiber, giving them both incredible strength and a lightness that allowed for lightning-fast movement. Other sections were reinforced with denser material for added weight, enough to make every strike hit like a hammer.

The design was precise, tailored perfectly to Aron’s control and fighting style. The balance was flawless, heavy enough to deal maximum destructive force, light enough to never slow him down.

And he wielded them in pairs now. He excelled far more with two batons than he ever had with a single one and his taser. The only reason he’d avoided using both up until now was simple: with his strength, he worried he might hit too hard... and kill someone.

With the opponent standing before him, Aron didn’t have the luxury of worrying about holding back.

Na’s gaze shifted past him just in time to see Wolf and Max breaking into a run, trying to push deeper toward Chrono. Instinct took over, Na moved to reach for them,

, but the sharp crack of a baton came down hard on his forearm.

The strike was so fast that Na couldn’t react in time, the force slamming his arm downward. Pain jolted up his limb. Before he could reset, he caught the blur of another baton already arcing toward his face.

He managed to lift his other forearm in time to block, but the impact rattled through his bones. Both arms throbbed from the blows.

"I see now," Na said through gritted teeth. "I don’t have the privilege of going after them. I’ll need to give you my full attention." His eyes narrowed. "Still... I wonder how someone like Max managed to convince you to fight on his side."

Wolf’s chest tightened with excitement as he sprinted past Na. He wished he could stop and watch the clash between the two, but he knew exactly where his priorities lay. Chrono was ahead, and nothing mattered more than reaching him.

Chrono, watching the events unfold, spotted the opening instantly. There was a direct path forming toward him, and with his forces collapsing, a strange mix of fear and adrenaline twisted in his chest.

"Montez!" Chrono barked, his voice sharp with urgency. "Can’t you see? That’s their leader right there! If we take him out, the rest will crumble, they’ll have no idea what to do. We beat him, and then we shout to the others with his head on a pike!"

Montez’s eyes flicked toward Max. Even without Chrono’s words, he could see it, Max was clearly the ringleader. His own gang was being torn apart before his eyes, so the thought of stepping in was tempting enough. But another thought crossed his mind, one laced with ambition.

"If I take care of him," Montez said slowly, "if I’m the one who takes him out... then we need to restructure our deal."

"Fine, whatever you want!" Chrono shot back, panic stripping away any hesitation.

"You’d better go through with it," Montez warned, his tone heavy.

He surged forward, but Wolf was already moving to intercept. The two collided head-on, Wolf’s body coiling before he sprang upward, twisting into a kick that smashed into Montez and sent him stumbling hard to the side, crashing to the ground.

"Keep going, Max!" Wolf called out, landing with steady footing. "Because now, there’s nothing left in your way. You’ve reached him."

Max didn’t even look back. He trusted Wolf could handle it. Now, there was nothing between him and his target. His gaze locked on Chrono, his expression unreadable but his voice carrying the weight of every choice that had led to this moment.

"You’re the cause of all of this," Max said evenly. "You didn’t have to push it this far. But now... there’s nothing you can do to stop what’s coming."