From Bullets To Billions

The Black Hounds tournament was in full swing, and the atmosphere inside the cruise ship’s arena was electric. The first round of the bracket was officially underway, and the very first participant to step onto the mat came directly from Donto’s VIP table.

He was wearing an oversized hoodie that completely covered his face, shadowing his features, but his long hair spilled out from the sides of the hood. Even with the baggy, heavy fabric of the sweatshirt, his ridiculously muscular frame couldn’t stay hidden. He looked like an absolute tank.

But this wasn’t the first time the tournament regulars had seen a massive, imposing fighter on this cruise ship, and the same could be said for his opponent.

Entering the ring from the opposite corner was a towering giant of a man. Standing at least six feet tall and fighting shirtless, his torso looked like rows of muscles piled directly on top of other muscles. He possessed the hyper-defined, sculpted body of a professional bodybuilder, his skin glistening under the heavy spotlights.

"Isn’t this matchup completely unfair?" Bobo asked, wincing slightly as she looked between the two fighters. "The shirtless guy looks twice as heavy."

"You would think that at first glance, but that’s not really how these things play out," Chad replied, leaning back against the leather sofa. "Just because a person looks incredibly muscular doesn’t mean they’re automatically going to walk away with a win. What about his footwork speed? What about his endurance in the later rounds? In this specific matchup, the only real advantage I see the bodybuilder having is his physical reach over the hooded guy."

"Wow, Chad," Bobo said, looking over at him, genuinely impressed. "You sound like a total expert at these things."

Smug as could be, Chad wiped the bottom of his nose with his thumb, pushing his chest out as he soaked in the praise.

"Don’t listen to a single word he says, Bobo," Karen interjected, not even looking up from her drink. "You need to remember that your brother lost every single penny of his capital betting on these exact events. If he actually knew what he was talking about and understood the metrics, he’d be in a far better financial position than the rest of us right now."

Chad instantly deflated, sinking back into the cushions without a single comeback to offer. He couldn’t argue with his bank statement, but he knew the results of this fight would speak for themselves.

"All bets are officially locked in!" the announcer’s voice boomed through the loudspeakers, rattling the glass of the VIP booths. "Let the match begin!"

The second the bell rang, the towering bodybuilder charged straight ahead, completely confident in his massive size and long limbs. He threw a devastating, linear right hook, but the hooded fighter didn’t even shift his feet. He simply snapped his hand up, slapping the incoming wrist away with a sharp, careless flick that redirected the entire punch to the side.

The forward momentum of the bodybuilder was too heavy to stop, forcing his frame to keep stumbling forward.

"Fine!" the giant roared, his face contorting. "If I can’t punch you, I’ll just crash into you with my entire body and crush you against the canvas!"

The crowd was screaming in anticipation right up until the exact micro-second the large man slammed into the stationary, hooded fighter. Then, the noise in the arena completely died. The spectators froze because the giant had stopped dead in his tracks.

He was driving his legs into the mat, his face turning red as he pushed with all his might, and yet the hooded youth didn’t budge a single inch. He was like a brick wall.

Slowly lifting his massive hand, Hugo swung his arm in a relaxed, effortless arc, slapping the giant right across the face. The impact sounded like a whip cracking. Instantly, the bodybuilder’s legs went completely weak, his eyes rolling back as he collapsed straight into the canvas, entirely knocked out.

The stadium was stunned into an absolute, breathless silence.

"What the hell was that!" a spectator in the front rows shouted, jumping to his feet. "This entire thing is rigged! I’ve never seen a more obvious piece of theater in my whole life!"

It appeared that a large portion of the crowd completely agreed with the accusation. A chorus of angry boos and catcalls began to echo through the arena, but Hugo didn’t give them a single glance. He calmly turned around and walked back toward the VIP section, taking his spot right beside Donto.

"It looks like you were actually right," Bobo muttered, turning to her brother in shock. "I can’t believe you saw that massive of a difference between the two of them. I’m guessing you made some good money on that round?"

"Of course I did," Chad said, trying to act casual.

In reality, Chad hadn’t used any expert analysis at all. He had solely placed his bet on Donto’s man because he had a gut feeling that Donto wouldn’t bring just any random amateur to fight for him in a venue owned by Max. He just never expected there to be such an astronomical difference in power.

"I bet to win, Bobo, not whether or not I actually like the person," Chad answered with a smug grin.

The tournament continued to press forward, and a sequence of rapid, high-velocity fights took place on the mat. Unfortunately for Chad, his luck was completely running on its usual blueprint. He managed to lose every single subsequent bet he made, and his family was quickly starting to realize his very first guess had just been a total fluke.

But the wheel finally spun back around, and it was Hugo’s turn to step into the fighting ring once again. Desperate to get his money back, Chad didn’t hesitate; he placed the exact same bet, throwing his remaining chips on Donto’s man to secure the win.

This time, Hugo was matched up against an agile martial artist who was only slightly smaller than him. The guy moved fast, dancing circles around Hugo before lunging forward with a lightning-quick combination. But the second his knuckles connected with Hugo’s rock-hard abs, a look of pure horror crossed his face. He felt a sickening crunch, as if his own fist had shattered against steel armor.

Before the fighter could even attempt to slide back out of the pocket, Hugo’s massive hands shot forward, gripping the man by the waist. He lifted him completely above his head like a trophy and hurled him out of the ring.

The crowd gasped as the airborne fighter went flying straight toward the front rows of the spectator seats. He was on a trajectory to crash hard into the wooden barriers, but before he could impact the ground, Jett materialized at the edge of the ring. He caught the flying man just in time, absorbing the momentum perfectly before gently setting him down on his feet.

"I see how it is now," Jett said, his voice level as he stepped over the ropes and walked directly into the center of the ring, his eyes locked onto Hugo. "It looks like you’re operating on a completely different level compared to the rest of these amateurs."

Jett began to untie the wraps around his wrists, his expression hardening into a serious combat frame.

"I guess I’m the one who’s going to need to personally step in and deal with you."

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