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Elijah is evolving faster than you think.
His power is growing.
His business empire is expanding.
And the story only gets crazier from here.
Right now, this platform is far behind.
At patreon.com/KingAlex738, the story is already past Chapter 100… and moving toward Chapter 200.
Don't get left behind while everyone else moves ahead.
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Chapter 45
Henry sat in the corner of the betting area, his back against the wall, his arm still throbbing where Kai had forced it back into place.
The pain had settled into a dull, constant ache now, the kind that would last for days.
His ribs screamed when he breathed too deep. His jaw was swollen, the taste of blood still fresh in his mouth.
And he had eight thousand dollars waiting for him.
Kai stood beside him, counting the bills the man behind the counter had handed over.
The registerer had tried to short them a common trick, the kind that worked on people too tired to count but Kai had caught it immediately, his blue eyes flat, his voice soft.
The money had been corrected without another word.
"Eight thousand," Kai said, holding the stack up. "Not bad for a night's work."
Henry reached for it. Kai pulled it back.
"Not so fast."
Henry's eyes narrowed. "What?"
Kai's smile was slow, easy, the kind of smile that meant he was about to say something Henry didn't want to hear.
"If Elijah loses his match, this money goes to Aurora."
The words hung in the air. Henry stared at him, waiting for the punchline. It didn't come.
"You're joking," Henry said.
Kai shook his head. "I told her if she bet on Elijah, she'd double her money. If he loses, I pay her back what she lost tonight. That's eight thousand."
"From my money?"
"From our money. But yes, right now, that means yours."
Henry's jaw tightened. His good hand clenched into a fist at his side. He had fought for that money. He had taken punches that would have dropped most men. He had felt his shoulder tear, his ribs crack, his blood spill on the mat. And now Kai was telling him it might all go to some woman he didn't know because of a bet he hadn't made.
"I fought for that," Henry said, his voice low.
Kai's smile didn't waver. "You think I don't know that? I watched you fight. I saw Marcus a." He held Henry's gaze. "You earned every dollar of that money."
"Then why—"
"Because if you don't believe in your leader enough to risk eight thousand dollars, why should anyone else?"
The words hit Henry harder than Marcus's punches had.
He opened his mouth to argue, then closed it.
His eyes moved across the room, to the ring where the crew was setting up for the next match, to the seats where the crowd was gathering, to the corner where Jack Reyes stood waiting.
And somewhere in the building, Elijah was getting ready to face a man who hadn't lost in a year.
A man at the Peak of Beginner Knight Stage. A man who could end the fight in seconds if Elijah made one mistake.
Henry let out a breath. His fist unclenched.
"He's going to win," Henry said. It wasn't a question.
Kai handed him the money. "Then you have nothing to worry about."
Henry took the stack and folded it into his pocket.
The weight of it was heavy against his thigh, but not as heavy as the weight of what Kai had said. He looked at the ring again.
"If he loses," Henry said, "I'm coming for you."
Kai laughed, the sound bright and genuine. "If he loses, you won't have to."
They walked back toward their seats, the crowd parting around them.
Aurora was already there, her silver hair pulled back, the cut above her eye cleaned and bandaged.
She looked up as they approached, her blue eyes moving from Kai to Henry and back.
"Well?" she asked.
Kai sat down beside her. "He won, Your money's safe."
Aurora's expression didn't change, but something in her shoulders relaxed. She looked at Henry. "Good fight."
Henry dropped into his seat, wincing as his ribs protested. "Good fight," he agreed. "Better than yours."
Aurora's eyes narrowed, but the corner of her mouth twitched. "My fight was against someone stronger than Marcus."
"He almost lost."
"He didn't lose."
"Neither did I."
They glared at each other for a moment, and then Aurora looked away, a small smile on her face. "Fair enough."
The next two fights passed quickly. A woman with a red aura against a man with blue.
A brawler with no technique against a fighter who moved like water. The crowd roared and groaned, money changed hands, and the ring was cleaned and reset twice.
Henry watched without really seeing. His mind was on Elijah, on Tristan Quinn, on the eight thousand dollars in his pocket that might not be his in an hour.
But Elijah would win, he had to.
The announcer's voice cut through the noise, sharp and clear. "Main event matches. First match—Jack Reyes versus Dante Cross."
The crowd's energy shifted instantly. The murmurs grew louder, the whispers more urgent.
People leaned forward in their seats, money appearing in hands, bets being placed faster than Henry could track.
Henry straightened in his seat, his ribs protesting. He had heard of Dante Cross. Everyone in the lower underground had.
The man was second only to Tristan Quinn in this area, a fighter who had put down everyone who stepped into the ring with him except the man he would face tonight.
Dante climbed into the ring first.
He was tall, six feet at least, with a lean, coiled build that spoke of speed rather than power.
His skin was dark, his head shaved, his face all sharp angles and hard lines. His eyes were brown, flat, empty of anything but focus.
He moved to his corner and stood there, his arms loose at his sides, his breathing already controlled.
His Ki sense reached out across the room, brushing against Henry's awareness.
It was sharp, precise, the kind of sense that came from years of training. Beginner Knight Stage Peak, the same as Tristan and Jack.
Jack climbed into the ring on the opposite side.
He was taller than Dante, broader through the shoulders, his blond hair bright under the lights.
His face was calm, almost bored, his red eyes moving over Dante with the same casual disinterest a man might give a piece of meat before deciding whether to buy it.
He stood in his corner, his hands at his sides, his body loose.
His Ki was there, Henry could feel it, but it was coiled so deep, so controlled, that it was almost invisible. Like a snake sleeping in tall grass. Waiting.
The bell rang.
Dante didn't move. His Ki sense was reaching, searching, trying to find something in Jack's aura that wasn't there. His face was tight, focused, his body coiled.
Jack stood where he was. He didn't raise his hands. He didn't shift his weight. He just watched Dante with those red eyes, waiting.
Dante moved.
His blue aura exploded around him, bright and fierce, thirty percent enhancement flooding his limbs, his chest, his fists.
He crossed the ring in a blur, his fist driving toward Jack's face with everything behind it.
The punch landed.
Henry heard the impact—a solid, wet crack that made the front rows flinch. Jack's head snapped to the side, his body shifting with the force of the blow.
But he didn't move his feet.
He stood there, his head turned, his body angled, and then he slowly straightened.
His red eyes found Dante's face. There was no pain in them. No anger and No surprise. Just the same calm, patient watchfulness.
Dante's eyes widened. He threw another punch, faster this time, his blue aura blazing.
It caught Jack in the ribs, the impact loud enough to echo through the warehouse. Jack's body bent slightly, then straightened.
He didn't block not did he dodge. He just stood there, letting Dante hit him.
The crowd was silent now. Henry could feel the confusion rippling through them, the disbelief. Dante Cross was one of the best fighters in this circuit.
His punches could break bones. His kicks could crack ribs. And Jack was just standing there, taking them like they were nothing.
Dante threw a kick, his shin driving into Jack's thigh. Jack's leg buckled for a moment, then steadied. Another punch to the stomach.
Jack's breath left him in a grunt, but he didn't move. An elbow to the jaw. Jack's head snapped to the side, blood appearing on his lip, and then he turned back, his red eyes meeting Dante's.
"That's enough," Jack said.
His voice was quiet, calm, the voice of a man who had been patient long enough.
Dante's Ki sense flared. Henry could feel it—Dante reaching out, searching, trying to read what was coming.
His aura surged, thirty percent, pushing toward the limit of what his technique could give him.
His body was ready. His sense was sharp. He knew where Jack was going to attack.
It didn't matter.
Jack moved.
It wasn't fast. That was the strange thing. Henry could see it clearly—Jack's weight shifting, his arm coming up, his fist moving toward Dante's face.
There was no blur, no surge of Ki, no visible enhancement at all. Just a punch, thrown with the casual ease of a man swatting a fly.
Dante's hands came up to block. His Ki sense had read the trajectory perfectly. His forearms were in the right place. His body was braced.
Jack's fist went through his guard like it wasn't there.
The impact was sickening. Dante's arms folded inward, his own weight betraying him, and Jack's fist connected with his face with a sound that made Henry's stomach turn.
Dante's nose shattered, blood spraying across the mat. His head snapped back, his body following, and he hit the ropes hard enough to snap them, bouncing forward, already unconscious.
He landed on his back, his arms splayed, his face a ruin of blood and broken bone. His blue aura flickered once, twice, and went dark.
Jack stood over him, his fist still raised, his face unchanged. He looked down at Dante for a moment, then lowered his hand.
There was no satisfaction in his eyes. No cruelty, Just the same patient calm that had been there since the match began.
The crowd was dead silent. Henry could hear his own heartbeat.
The announcer's voice was almost hesitant when it came. "Winner—Jack Reyes."
Jack stepped over the ropes and walked toward the back, the crowd parting for him like water around a stone.
No one spoke. No one moved. They just watched him go, their faces pale, their money forgotten in their hands.
Henry sat in his seat, his ribs forgotten, his arm forgotten, his eight thousand dollars forgotten.
He had known Jack was strong. He had seen him fight before.
Dante Cross was at the Peak of Beginner Knight Stage. His technique gave him thirty percent enhancement.
His Ki sense was sharp enough to read attacks before they came
And Jack had let him hit, had let him use everything he had, had waited until Dante had nothing left to give.
And then he had ended it with one punch. Not fast, not enhanced, just a punch that Dante had seen coming, had prepared for, and still couldn't stop.
Kai sat beside him, his face unreadable. Aurora had gone pale, her hands gripping the armrests of her seat.
"He was holding back," Aurora said, her voice barely a whisper.
Kai nodded slowly. "He always is."
Henry looked at the ring, where the crew was cleaning Dante's blood off the mat.
The man was being carried out on a stretcher, his face hidden beneath a towel, his body limp. Second best in this circuit, Peak Beginner Knight Stage, And he had been nothing.
The announcer's voice came again, stronger now. "Main event, Second match—Elijah versus Tristan Quinn."
Henry's hands clenched on his knees. He thought about the eight thousand dollars in his pocket.