Wolf continued to hit the man until he could no longer speak, and not only that, he couldn’t even get himself up from the ground. Each strike came down with intent, not rushed, not wild, but measured, like he was making sure every single hit landed where it was meant to. The man was still breathing, which was exactly what Wolf wanted, but his face was heavily bruised, swollen to the point where it was hard to tell what he had looked like before. One eye was pletely shut, the other barely open, and blood dripped down onto the floor beneath him.
This was what Wolf wanted.
Surely the story would be passed on now to all the other employees. People talked, especially when something like this happened. On top of that, they could see the real damage of what happened when someone decided to push things too far. This wasn’t some rumor or warning whispered behind closed doors. This was visible, undeniable, and impossible to ignore.
"Hey, hey, hey, we can’t just go this far with people," one of the guards said, clearly shaken. "Even if this is self-defense, and we say he tried to attack you, this is still..."
"It’s okay," Wolf said calmly as he knelt down beside the man. His voice wasn’t raised. If anything, it was softer than before. "The most he can do is sue me, and I’m happy to take whatever costs e out of my wage."
Wolf leaned in closer, making sure the man could hear him.
"But I have a feeling this one isn’t going to sue me," Wolf continued. "Otherwise, he’ll be in for a world of pain like this every single day. Because once I lose my job, well... I have nothing to lose."
He smiled faintly.
"And when someone has nothing to lose, they still have frustration. And frustration has to go somewhere."
Wolf straightened slightly, still keeping his eyes on the man. "You know the rules of the country we’re in, right? I won’t be locked up behind bars unless I kill you. And I’ll make sure not to do that."
The man’s mouth moved. No words came out, at least none anyone could understand, but it was obvious what he was trying to say. He was begging. Promising. Swearing he wouldn’t tell a soul.
Wolf stood up.
He told the guards it would be best if they took the man to the hospital so he could get treatment. There was no rush, no panic. Everything had already been decided.
After that, Wolf went to check on the shops. As he walked in, he asked the staff if there was anyone causing trouble, anyone acting strange, or anyone they were worried about.
The moment they saw him, everyone seemed to stand a bit straighter.
It was obvious word had spread fast. There weren’t many guards with bright orange hair, and it didn’t take a genius to put two and two together. Faces looked nervous, careful, and polite. No one wanted to be the next example.
It was safe to say there were no more incidents.
Wolf was satisfied.
"The others would have done a good job as well," Wolf thought to himself. "I just need to trust them."
Little did he know, there was only one person left who hadn’t faced any incident yet. At least not so far.
And that was Max.
"Hey, hey, what is with him?" one of the warehouse workers whispered, nodding toward Max.
"You mean the guy with the mask?" another replied. "Looks like they hired some wrestling kid to protect the deliveries this time."
"Damn it. And I thought they were finally going to take this seriously. We’re already understaffed because of how many staff members got beaten."
"If they e again, I’ll just let them take whatever they want," another worker muttered. "I’ll quit after. This job isn’t worth my life."
They continued working, moving packages in and out of the warehouse. The exhaustion on their faces was obvious. Some had dark circles under their eyes, others moved slower than they should have. Seeing this, Max decided to help.
He stepped forward and began unloading the truck, lifting crates and carrying them over to where the others were stacking them.
"Hey, careful, kid," one of the men said, his voice trailing off as he watched Max lift a large case with ease. "That one’s quite... heavy."
Max didn’t respond. He just kept moving.
They watched him carefully as he continued helping, lifting box after box without slowing down. He didn’t look tired. He didn’t even look strained. It was almost like having four extra workers all rolled into one.
"What the heck," one of them whispered. "Is this some kind of special wrestler strength or something?"
"Maybe the kid is juicing," another said. "If I was on juice, I could work like that too."
"Juicing?" the first replied. "Oh, you mean steroids. Man, what is with the lingo these days."
For Max, this was just another part of his training.
He wasn’t relying only on the Vow. He was pushing his body at every step, trying to reach its peak naturally as well. There were always ways to improve, even if his strength increased through money.
With the recent increase in funds, he had gotten stronger. That much was true. But hearing that he was the weakest out of the group didn’t hurt his pride. It didn’t anger him either.
It motivated him.
He didn’t want the same thing to happen again. Not like in the past, where everyone around him kept getting stronger while he lagged behind.
This time was different.
This time, he was going to lead the group from the front.
If something came for him from behind, he would deal with it himself.
As Max reached down to pick up another box, he heard it.
The sharp screech of tires.
Not one car.
Multiple.
They pulled up fast, aggressive, the sound echoing through the warehouse area. Engines were still running, doors slamming open.
Max straightened up.
"And here I was getting worried they wouldn’t show up."
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