The city felt charged, as if it knew the next clash would decide who controlled the streets. James Lee had deliberately escalated Valhalla's operations, striking Toman's territories, taking down key members in carefully orchestrated skirmishes, and recruiting fighters that Toman had not anticipated. The system calculated every risk: how much aggression would provoke retaliation without overextending, and how each fight could maximize XP, stat growth, and recruitment potential.
On a narrow street near the school, a confrontation erupted. James Lee moved with calm precision, flanked by his now highly trained recruits. They engaged Toman members with swift, brutal efficiency, using every perk and skill: Quick Reflexes to dodge incoming attacks, Tactical Vision to predict movements, Aura of Authority to manipulate the morale of opponents, and Precision Strike to deal decisive blows.
Amid the chaos, Takemichi arrived with a small group of Toman allies, attempting to protect his friends while minimizing casualties. He had hoped to avoid direct confrontation with Valhalla, but James Lee's strategy forced him into the fray. One of Valhalla's recruits, acting with calculated force, struck Takemichi mid-move. His arm bent at an unnatural angle, sending a sharp, searing pain through him. He fell to the ground, clutching his arm, unable to fight effectively, forced into painful inaction as Valhalla pressed the advantage.
Seeing Takemichi's injury, his friends froze, unable to fully respond. James Lee stood above the fray, a figure of calm authority amidst chaos. He did not press the attack to kill—yet the sheer precision and power of Valhalla left no doubt: resistance was futile. Every member's coordinated strikes, every tactical maneuver, and every perk used highlighted the gang's dominance.
The city watched. Street corners, alleys, and schoolyards filled with whispers: Toman, previously seen as untouchable, was struggling to respond, forced into full engagement for the first time. Other gangs began recalculating their positions, noticing the rising power of Valhalla. In their eyes, Valhalla was not just challenging Toman—they were shaping the battlefield, forcing Toman to expend all its strength while Valhalla grew stronger with every fight.
Takemichi's broken arm wasn't just a personal injury—it was a symbol of the war's escalation. He had no choice but to withdraw, carrying the weight of his inability to act and the knowledge that Valhalla was now the central force controlling how the conflict unfolded. The very streets seemed to bend to James Lee's calculated strategies; every encounter, every skirmish, and every recruit added to Valhalla's unstoppable momentum.
After the fight, James Lee returned to the rooftop with his recruits, surveying the city below. Toman had been forced to show its full strength, revealing cracks in strategy, overextended positions, and vulnerabilities. Valhalla, by contrast, had grown not only in power but in reputation—every victory, every calculated strike, and every controlled escalation had solidified their image as the dominant, unstoppable gang in the eyes of every neutral and rival faction.
James Lee allowed himself a faint, confident smile. Takemichi's injury, Toman's full-force response, and the city's growing whispers all signaled one thing: the war had escalated, stakes had risen, and Valhalla was now the player everyone else measured themselves against. The next battles would be harder, the risks higher, but every move, every fight, every perk, and every recruit placed them closer to total dominance.
"Every strike, every decision… every move is a step closer to ultimate control," James Lee murmured, watching the city lights flicker below. "Valhalla will not just survive this war—it will command it."