Chapter 142: You all asked for this!
Chapter 141
"What is going on?" a man shouted as he saw others running around in chaos. Suddenly, the front door caved in with a thunderous crash, sending the men stationed there flying backward.
Those who were walking around the place froze instantly, their gazes snapping toward the entrance where the destroyed door now lay in pieces.
Slowly, a figure stepped into view, the metal beneath his boots crunching loudly with each step. He moved with an air of confidence and dominance, donning an attire marked with streaks of red, black, and gold. A mask with scaly designs hid his face, giving him a terrifying yet regal aura.
This figure was none other than Max. His hands rested casually in his pockets as his calm yet deadly gaze swept across the room.
Inside, the base was as grim as its exterior. The vast concrete floor was cracked and stained from years of neglect.
Rows of crates, barrels, and broken machinery were scattered across the area, many of them turned into makeshift chairs or tables. Dim light flickered from exposed bulbs strung haphazardly along the ceiling, leaving much of the warehouse swallowed in shadow.
To one side stood a staircase made of rusting metal, leading up to a narrow balcony-like platform that overlooked the main floor below.
That upper level belonged to the higher-ranking members, a place where orders were shouted and punishments were dealt. The metal railings bent under pressure, and the floor creaked dangerously, but it still served as a throne for those who thought they ruled.
The air inside smelled of cigarette smoke, sweat, and stale liquor. The graffiti-covered walls bore gang symbols, half-torn posters of women, and blood-streaked warnings to intruders. It was a den of corruption not a place built for comfort, but one forged by violence and fear.
Along one wall hung an entire rack of weapons — bats, knives, chains, and jagged blades each one stained with the memory of past fights.
Right in front of Max stood more than three hundred men, their expressions a mix of confusion and disbelief. The shock of the intrusion froze them in place until one of them finally found his voice.
"Who are you? What do you want here? And how dare you barge into this place?"
"So many questions," Max replied, a smirk forming beneath his mask. "Which one do you want me to answer first?"
"How about starting with what gives you the authority to walk in here?" another man growled.
"Oh, that’s simple," Max said, his tone calm but sharp. "I’m here on a mission to teach a few spoiled adults some manners."
The tension in the room thickened like smoke until another voice echoed from above. "Usually, I’m not so kind," the man said as he began walking down the staircase. His boots thudded against the metal with each step, and the other gang members moved aside immediately to clear his path.
"I’m the vice leader of this gang," the man continued coldly. "The boss is in a stable mood right now, so I’ll give you one chance. Leave now, or face the wrath of the Gray Bulls. Don’t mess with us."
Click. Click. Click.
Crunch!
Max’s footsteps came to a stop as he stepped on something that cracked beneath his boot. He glanced down and saw the hand of one of the men he had knocked unconscious earlier — the same man who had tried to block his way.
For a moment, the room went silent. Max tilted his head slightly, the faint reflection of light gleaming across his mask as his voice dropped low, calm, and dangerous.
"You look smart," Max began, his voice calm yet heavy with power. He suddenly glanced up, locking eyes with the vice leader who stood at the base of the staircase, his disheveled brown hair covering part of his face.
"Which is why I’m going to give you... no, give all of you a choice," Max continued, his tone dropping lower. "Bring me your leader so we can settle this amongst ourselves and let me complete what I came here for, or attack me and find out why an entire race fears me."
He pointed his index finger toward the crowd of men in the room, his gaze piercing even through the mask.
The vice leader sighed heavily and shook his head, clearly unimpressed. "I hate cocky people," he muttered under his breath before raising his voice. "Suit up and bring him to his knees for me."
He clapped his hands once, the sharp sound echoing through the warehouse like a trigger.
Instantly, chaos broke out. The men sprinted toward the weapon rack on the wall, grabbing whatever they could — bats, chains, knives, and metal rods. The metallic clatter filled the air, blending with the sound of hurried footsteps as they armed themselves like soldiers ready for war.
Max stood still, unfazed, watching them with a calmness that was more terrifying than rage. His hands slid out of his pockets as his gaze followed every movement.
"Fine then," he said quietly, his voice cutting through the noise. "If that’s your choice..."
He cracked his neck slightly and clenched his fists. "So be it."
The first man charged forward, swinging a metal bat with all his strength straight toward Max’s masked face.
But Max didn’t even blink. His hand shot out in a blur, grabbing the man’s wrist mid-swing. The metal bat froze inches away from his face. No matter how hard the man tried, his arm wouldn’t move. He struggled, veins bulging, but Max’s grip didn’t even tighten — it was already absolute.
More men rushed forward, their footsteps shaking the ground.
BAM!
Max moved. His leg swung with brutal precision, slamming into the man’s abdomen with so much force that the air was literally punched out of his lungs. The man’s mouth gaped open, and before he could scream, his entire body shot backward.
However, Max’s grip on his wrist didn’t release. The momentum tore through flesh and bone, and the man’s arm ripped clean from his shoulder as his body was flung like a projectile.
He crashed into a dozen of his comrades, sending them sprawling to the floor in a tangled mess of limbs and groans.
Max stared down at the severed arm still clutched in his hand. For a brief second, silence returned to the room, the gang members frozen in disbelief.
Without hesitation, he cocked his arm back, muscles tensing as his voice rumbled low beneath the mask. "Just so you all know... I tried resolving this peacefully."
He hurled the arm forward with terrifying speed. "But you asked for this!"
The limb flew like a missile, cutting through the air with a loud whoosh.
BANG!
It struck two men square in the face at once, the impact so strong that both were lifted off their feet and sent crashing backward, slamming into the wall hard enough to crack it.