From Bullets To Billions Chapter 619: A Hard Time

Everyone else in the demonstration room spun around, staring at the gruesome sight.

One of the Gilt Rats' top fighters, a high-ranking member, had been brutally eliminated, and the savage method made it impossible for almost anyone to miss. It was too glaring to overlook, forcing even those who tried to look away to keep glancing back.

This caused many of the battling members to lose their fighting spirit, leaving them uncertain if they wanted a similar fate.

Their earlier assurance, born from superior numbers and advanced gear, began to fade away. It went beyond mere fear of death; it was the brutal manner of it. A stark warning that despite any armor or perceived power, they remained vulnerable to defeat.

'My previous fight unfolded under different conditions,' Na reflected inwardly. 'Confined to the ring, I'd already witnessed the exoskeleton's capabilities, giving me an edge.'

In certain aspects, this foe proved less challenging than Evon, who had deployed numerous traps.

That clash had posed unique difficulties, demanding more strategy, vigilance, and hidden perils in every action. By contrast, this adversary seemed straightforward.

This guy placed excessive faith in his gear.

As Na approached, he examined the attire before stripping the exoskeleton from the corpse.

"The spoils of war—and with your overwhelming numbers, we'll take any advantage we can grab."

No sense squandering a valuable asset amid such a lopsided battle. Outnumbered as they were, even a slight boost in capability could prove decisive. If foes brought these devices, why not repurpose them against the owners?

Na finally removed both exoskeletons from the fallen man. He considered donning one himself but deemed it pointless.

His strength already surpassed needs, and it wouldn't amplify his devastating blows.

Perhaps a minor speed gain, but on him, it felt like squandered potential.

Na inspected the gear more thoroughly, assessing its combat value. It aided its users greatly, yet for someone like him—whose physique and style eclipsed its design—it offered little benefit.

'For now, pass these to another team member to bolster us; they can figure out later, perhaps hand them to Joe.'

Na's initial idea, though he figured Joe faced a formidable opponent alongside the rest.

Clashes erupted across multiple spots. Throughout various rooms and building sections, allies confronted enemies, and if exoskeleton wielders were dispersed wisely, each skirmish turned perilous.

In a nearby room, one fighter dominated the exoskeleton opponents.

To such an extent that the exoskeleton wearer took a hit, slamming his back into a vending machine, shattering glass and toppling it.

Glass shattering reverberated through the space, blending with thudding steps and fight grunts. Fragments scattered as the machine shuddered from the blow.

"Hahaha, bet you didn't see this coming!" Darno laughed. "You gang thugs need real fighting lessons before challenging a firm like ours."

The man shoved off the vending machine, utterly baffled.

His strikes zipped with superhuman speed and force.

But throughout their exchange, despite his velocity, every punch got parried.

Oddest part: blocks weren't solely with hands; sometimes he used his shoulder, which defied logic.

His power should've shattered that shoulder on contact.

The Gilt Rat couldn't fathom it. He'd banked on the exoskeleton for superiority over ordinary foes. Yet this opponent stood like an unyielding barrier, absorbing blows that should've wrecked him, remaining steady.

Darno held position as the furious Gilt Rat lunged anew. Closing in, he unleashed a barrage, but Darno deflected them all.

Strikes flew rapidly, relentlessly, each packed with bone-crushing might. Darno defended flawlessly, anticipating rhythms, moving minimally.

'Without the vow, merely blocking would've agonized me. Truth is, they still sting plenty. Denser bones let me endure without snapping, but pain lingers.'

Darno absorbed the impacts.

Pretending no pain, though he pondered his endurance limit.

Displaying frailty would invite escalation; sensing partial success, foes would intensify. Thus, Darno maintained the facade, face stoic, posture solid.

This foe possessed grit despite Darno's punishing counters—credit where due.

Sent crashing into the machine, facing mounting disadvantages, he pressed on undeterred, fueled by rage alone.

"This is getting on my nerves, and it hurts!" Darno growled, timing his riposte flawlessly.

Spotting the incoming fist's path, he countered with his own, knuckles colliding squarely.

The exoskeleton's exterior fractured then. A sharp crack echoed, sparks flying.

Immense force surged from the Gilt Rat's hand, yet he swung again—met by Darno's matching strike.

Knuckles clashing sparked from arm to elbow.

The device faltered visibly. Its sturdy shell crumbled under raw counterforce, unequipped for Darno's retaliation.

"Your junk machine's toast—too bad, I wanted it!" Darno bellowed, fist smashing the man's face, hurling him into the vending machine.

This time, no recovery.

His form slumped amid shattered glass and twisted metal, the once-threatening exoskeleton now mere wreckage clinging to him.

Even if roused, victory over the rest eluded him.

Onlookers among nearby combatants sensed the tide turn instantly. Another elite fallen, dwindling hopes for triumph.

Darno rotated his shoulder, nursing the ache from absorbed blows. Victory cost him bodily toll, vow aiding survival but not immunity.

Yet he concealed it all.

"Well, that oughta snag me a ranger jacket, yeah? Pink's out, so what color should I pick?"