From Bullets To Billions Chapter 623: The Cost of a Billion

At the heart of the central arena chamber, the atmosphere brimmed with dust's pungent odor and the resounding pulses of battle. Max was locked in his personal clash, yet it stood apart from the skirmishes erupting across the rest of the complex. He wasn't exchanging punches with the common thugs of the Gilt Rats, nor squaring off against a warrior clad in a powered exosuit.

Rather, he engaged in a perilous showdown against the Black Hounds' chief: Darius himself. The pair held position on the elevated stage, a platform that resembled a forsaken atoll amid the surrounding battlefield. Eager to shred one another, Darius shattered the standoff first.

Darius surged ahead, unleashing a mighty overhead punch targeted straight at Max’s chin. Max countered without delay, deflecting the arm aside with a smooth hand sweep. Yet as his palm sliced the air, it encountered nothing—no resistance, no collision, merely void where an arm ought to be.

Darius had foreseen that response. Spotting the vulnerability from the botched defense, he shifted his balance and unleashed a vicious kick. Still, Max stayed composed. He let the motion from his missed deflection propel him onward, whirling his frame in a seamless, compact spin. Harnessing that spinning momentum, Max landed a crushing roundhouse kick squarely on Darius's temple.

The blow landed solidly, a resonant thump reverberating across the chamber. Darius staggered rearward, his sight blurring, yet he maintained his elevated guard, steeling for any follow-up assault.

"I told you already that your stuff won’t work on me anymore," Max declared, his tone calm and free from the dread that once colored their encounters. "I still can’t figure out how to stop that trick of yours, or why my body keeps reacting to those phantoms, but it doesn’t matter. I’ll just move faster. I’ll strike stronger. I’ll brute force my way through whatever illusions you try to throw at me."

Darius offered no words in reply. He squinted his eyes and advanced once more, now with far greater wariness than his opening rush. He unleashed a barrage of punches, his fists blurring in rapid succession.

Not one punch was genuine; they served as decoys to provoke Max’s instincts and expose weaknesses. Yet Max followed through precisely as promised. He countered every phantom blow with lightning reflexes, swatting away the spectral strikes while snapping his arms back to guard just in time. He reset fully before the subsequent "punch" could connect.

A chill sweat beaded on Darius's brow. Though he expected numerous chances by now, no breach appeared for a solid hit. He persisted in projecting his feints, desperate to trap Max in an unbreakable pattern.

'I can’t believe what is happening,' Darius mused, his temple still tingling and pulsing from the prior kick. 'He really is blocking all the strikes at a speed so fast that even when I mix in the fake ones, he can still punish me.'

As shadows and resolve clashed, Darius's inner alarm intensified. 'It’s not just the speed, either. In some cases, he’s simply brute-forcing his way through the exchange. Even if I managed to land a clean strike, he looks willing to take the hit just so he can hit me back even harder.'

The Black Hounds' head grappled to match this Max against the figure from his past. 'What I don’t understand is how it’s even possible for him to improve in such a short amount of time. What is his secret? Was he just faking his incompetence the last time the two of us fought?'

He brushed aside the notion swiftly. 'No, that’s impossible. His life was on the line back then, to the point where he had to jump right off the ship to survive. He hasn’t just improved; he’s managed to evolve in every single aspect of combat.'

Darius gripped his fists tightly, knuckles blanching. He rushed forward anew, abandoning single deceptions this time. He hurled a chain of blows, each infused with real menace, forming what appeared to Max as an onslaught of true fists descending upon him.

Darius's strategy was straightforward: since Max blocked all comers, he'd wield the illusions to control Max’s movements. After launching multiple high feints at Max’s face to lift his defenses, Darius sank low, thrusting a forceful knee toward Max’s midsection.

Yet right as the knee neared impact, Max’s hand darted downward, clamping the knee and slamming it earthward with casual power. Darius glanced up to see Max’s assured grin before a fist crashed into his jaw. The strike whipped his head back, neck cracking under the force.

'He blocked my knee strike with a single hand...' Darius reflected amid the daze. 'His strength really has increased by leaps and bounds. This isn’t the same man.'

As Max observed his foe scrambling for balance, a rush of pure adrenaline coursed through him. This might stemmed not from fortune, but from relentless training and his merchant's sharp insight. Merging his grasp of the Underworld's workings with his fresh existence's assets, he had forged himself into a lethal force.

'I need to be careful,' Max pondered, a faint grin curling his mouth. 'Or I might actually get addicted to earning money if this is the kind of interest it pays.'

Just as Max poised to press the attack and end Darius, certain the Black Hounds' leader posed no further threat, a resounding door crash boomed across the arena.

Max’s gaze whipped toward the noise. He peered along a lengthy corridor, the one connecting straight to the grand stairs. Soon, a silhouette stepped from the gloom. The individual wore a spotless white robe, jarringly pure against the arena's filth.

"Ramon!" Darius yelled, his cry blending hope and humiliation.

"It’s just as he said. He thought you would be having some trouble here," Ramon remarked, his tone silky and indifferent. He eyed Max with a cocked head, like appraising an intriguing oddity. "I guess there is more to you than just being the wealthy Chairman of the Billion Bloodline group."

Max fixed his stare on Ramon, ice flooding his veins. His thoughts raced to the defender assigned to that route. One urgent question dominated.

"How are you here? What happened to Aron!" Max bellowed, his roar filling the chamber as he braced for his ultimate battle.