Chapter 741: The Thing’s I hate

The slam from Commander Blark was more than enough to ensure Wolf was completely out of the fight. In truth, he had been barely hanging on by a thread before the Commander even stepped in.

He had lost a massive amount of blood and was moving on sheer, stubborn willpower. Wolf had a personal theory regarding their condition: although Vows and certain specialized powers activated within unique individuals to make them superhuman, as a baseline, all of their physical attributes and bodily durability were slightly above those of a regular human.

Because of that heightened baseline, Wolf calculated that he would have been dead long ago if he weren’t a superhuman. However, being tougher didn’t mean he was immortal.

Blark looked down cold-heartedly into Wolf’s eyes, recognizing the gaze of a man who was already dying. He could feel the weak, fluttering pulse beneath his grip.

Meanwhile, an intense duel was unfolding between Aaron and the Rank One operative, who had been given the moniker "Monk."

It wasn’t just a label Aaron used in his own head; it was the name used by the other agents as well, since members of the Black Hand rarely referred to each other by their assigned numbers. After all, in their brutal hierarchy, numbers were always free to change—even if the top ranks hardly ever shifted.

Up until now, the two martial artists had been deeply focused, calculating moves in their heads, shifting their feet by mere inches, throwing out probing jabs, and backing away in an instant.

However, Aaron had become acutely aware of the worsening situation around him, and he could see that Wolf was officially on his absolute last legs.

Breaking his cautious rhythm, Aaron rushed forward with his reinforced batons, swinging them down in rapid, heavy succession. Meeting the assault head-on, Monk punched directly into the incoming steel with his bare hands. He fired his fists out like pistons before instantly snapping them back tight against his chest. The heavy impact echoed loudly across the courtyard.

"I’ve gone through every brutal form of conditioning imaginable, so even the high-voltage currents on those toys won’t phase me," Monk said, his voice flat and even. "A quick, compact strike minimizes the contact surface anyway. And you of all people should know that the current Rank One would be at least this skilled, right?"

There were no more subtle twitches or predictive micro-movements. Aaron pushed the pace, following up with a relentless series of strikes—swinging across, hooking from the side, and coming down from above. He moved fluidly, staying right in the pocket, and Monk matched him move for move. Monk slipped the strikes he could by bobbing his head, and those he couldn’t dodge, he countered directly with his hardened fists.

When he spotted a brief opening, Monk drove a fast straight punch toward Aaron’s side. Aaron swung his baton down in a tight circular motion, managing to parry the strike just in time. However, the momentum forced the baton slightly inward, nearly grazing his own jacket before he pulled away to reset.

"You nearly made a fatal mistake there," Monk noted, his eyes narrowing. "You know, when two fighters of equal strength and skill go head-to-head, whoever makes the first mistake ends up losing. And I can tell you’re rushing now. It seems the situation around you has you a bit worried?"

"I’m not worried about whether we will win or lose today," Aaron replied, his grip tightening on his weapons. "I believe that outcome has already been decided. Look at all the fighters you gathered around you—all those who went through the exact same nightmare we did—and yet they still lost.

"If anything, if I were in your position, I would be the one worried. But if I can beat you and save the people Max cares about while doing so, then I will do exactly that!"

Instead of charging straight at Monk, Aaron suddenly pivoted, sprinting off to the side directly toward Commander Blark.

The move took Monk completely by surprise. From their shared indoctrination in the Black Hand, a operative was trained never to let anything distract them from their immediate duel. Losing focus like this to assist someone else was completely unnatural, even if another high-ranking agent was in danger.

However, despite his initial hesitation, Monk reacted a split second later. His burst of speed reached a level that seemed to surpass even Aaron’s capabilities, allowing him to cut off the retreat.

Monk threw a devastating punch straight toward Aaron’s path. At the last possible moment, Aaron brought both of his batons up in an X-shape to absorb the impact. The sheer force of the blow lifted his feet slightly off the floorboards, causing him to skid backward across the stone when he landed.

"I don’t think you have the luxury to be worrying about others, former Rank One," Monk claimed, stepping forward as his aura shifted. "As you can see, my body has managed to completely surpass its regular limits.

"I used to think I was the only one who could break through that wall, until we encountered that monster up on the hill, and then that young creator. Meeting the two of them opened my eyes. It made me realize that I was different... that I am just like them, and that my body can adapt and evolve even further."

Monk glanced down at his knuckles. They were abnormally large, heavily calloused, and scarred—the result of being shattered and repaired countless times until they became dense biological weapons.

It wasn’t just Monk’s hands; his entire body had been put through that exact same agonizing cycle. His frame had been broken down and rebuilt stronger time and time again—much like a phoenix, but each time it was reborn, it grew larger, denser, and more lethal. That was how Monk had originally claimed the Number One position, until there was no one left in the organization capable of challenging him.

That was, until he crossed paths with Hercules. Those events had triggered yet another physical rebirth, making Monk far stronger than he had ever been in his past.

"Do you know what I hated most about being in the Black Hand?" Monk asked, his voice dropping to a low growl. "It was the other members. How they would constantly talk about the legendary, former genius Rank One who reached the pinnacle at such a young age.

"The original Number One. The question always popped up: who would win in a fight between him and me? I guess we’ll finally find out today, won’t we?"