From Bullets To Billions

Chapter 527: Spoils Of Battle (Part 1)

"Na!" Aron shouted out, his voice cutting through the roar of the crowd. "I know you’re hurt, but right now you’re kinda useless just staying in here like that! So why don’t you go make yourself useful and look after Sheri so I can take care of this one?"

There was no argument coming from Na. There was no witty comeback or refusal of what had been asked, because deep down, Na knew it was the truth. His body was battered, and his energy was flagging; in a high-level fight like this, he was becoming a liability.

As he struggled back up to his feet, Na rushed towards where Sheri was standing. He could see one of the Black Hound thugs running towards her, his hand outstretched to grab her. Na didn’t hesitate. With a burst of remaining strength, he grabbed the back of the man’s shirt, digging his fingers into the fabric. He lifted the man’s entire body with one hand and chucked him through the air like a ragdoll.

Everyone in the stands was watching with awe as they saw a grown human being go flying through the arena. The man crashed into another thug before they could even reach Sheri, sending them both sprawling. It wasn’t a feat that a simple human should have been able to do, especially one as injured as Na. When Na finally took his place by Sheri’s side, the remaining Black Hound members were certainly more hesitant to attack. They stood back, eyeing the monster who could throw men with one arm.

"You think just because you had the upper hand for a second, you can now deal with me?" Evon said, his voice trembling with a mixture of rage and fear as he stared at Aron.

He noticed the empty space in Aron’s grip. "You’ve thrown away one of your two weapons! You were only able to attack me because of the reach they provided. Now that you’re down to one, we’re going to see who will survive the end of this!"

Evon rushed forward, his Exoskeleton whining as it pushed his muscles to their limit. He quickly threw out a series of strikes, heavy and metallic. Aron continued to avoid them, moving with a fluid grace he had been using the entire time. Only this time, he wasn’t just dodging; he was strategically stepping back and moving further towards the edge of the ring.

This reminds me a lot... this whole situation reminds me a lot of the past, Aron thought.

It was a past that Aron had decided to forget long ago, buried under years of service to the Stern family. He wondered what had brought these old memories back up so vividly. Maybe it was the mechanical coldness of the Exoskeleton, or perhaps the lethal intent of the person in front of him.

The memories took him back to when he was out on the field as a child. In the past, he didn’t even know what country he was in half the time. He just constantly heard the sound of gunshots, screams, and explosions going off day after day. He couldn’t even remember the faces of his real parents because he had always been moving from village to village, from one war-torn area to the next.

Every village he went to from a young age, he had a different role to play. First, since he was just a kid and no one would take him in, he and the other orphans had to resort to stealing and thieving, doing whatever they could just to survive. When that village eventually got taken over and consumed by the fire of war, he had moved to another area where there was an orphanage of sorts.

Food was donated to the place, and for a short while, he no longer had to fight for money. He helped out where he could, finding a brief moment of peace. But when that area was also taken over due to conflict, he was forced to fight. He was given weapons far too heavy for a child and told to protect what was left, but it didn’t work out.

That village, too, was destroyed. At the time, young Aron thought he might have been cursed. It felt like every place he went, everywhere he tried to call home, would eventually be destroyed.

In this day and age, people thought slavery was a thing of the past, but in the dark corners of the world, it wasn’t. He was captured as a kid and then brought from camp to camp, moved from area to area until there was a buyer.

Shock collars were placed around his neck and the necks of the others. But they weren’t just shock collars; they were collars designed to explode if they ever tried to escape the perimeter. This was the start of his life in the Black Hand. Everyone else around the same age, some a little older, were part of the same shadow. It was a specialized group that was trained from a young age to be the best of the best—and out of that elite group of killers, Aron was the best of the best.

That’s something I don’t want to think about too much. I escaped from that life... and it was thanks to the Stern family, to Max’s parents, that I no longer had to do all of those things, Aron thought, his eyes narrowing. But if I have to become what I once was in order to protect Max and give him a better future, then I will do just that.

Right then, Aron’s back hit the cold wire of the cage. He dodged another hit at the very last microsecond. Evon’s fist went right through the cage, the metal links snapping like toothpicks due to the power of the Exoskeleton.

Evon was so frustrated and blinded by his need to land a hit that he didn’t even think about how his arm being stuck in the cage would slow him down.

Right then, with his remaining baton, Aron slammed it down on top of Evon’s head. A sickening cracking sound could be heard over the noise of the crowd. Aron then dived underneath the extended arm, spun his body with the precision of a dancer, and hit Evon right across the face with a follow-up strike. To finish the sequence, he delivered a crushing kick to Evon’s midsection, sending the man crashing to the floor.

Evon’s vision went blurry, his head spinning from the impact. As he looked up at the silhouette of the man standing over him, it looked like it was finally going to be the end of the fight.