Chapter 176: Death Match

The bar had been stripped of tables and benches in a frenzy of shoving hands and scraping boots.

Patrons lined the walls, pressed shoulder to shoulder, their whispers churning into a storm of nervous energy.

Tankards rattled where they’d been dropped, puddles of ale soaking into the sawdust floor.

Bruno stepped into the cleared space first, swagger in every motion despite the smirk on his lips.

His thugs cheered behind him, pounding fists on tables, their voices hoarse with excitement.

Jack followed, taller, broader, his jaw set like stone. His knuckles flexed as if already itching for blood.

A murmur of approval rose from the other side of the bar, the ones who still respected his rule, who saw him as the rightful king of the slums.

From his darkened corner, Noah leaned forward slightly, staring at the combatants.

His drink sat forgotten on the table. He hadn’t come here for spectacle, but this… this was interesting.

A fight for the crown of the slums, in the open, raw and unvarnished.

“Last chance, Bruno,” Jack growled, his voice heavy as thunder. “Walk out that door, and I’ll pretend this never happened.”

Bruno spat a gob of spit onto the floor and grinned. “Walk away? I don’t crawl from fights, Jack. I end them. So, why should I walk away from this one?”

The room erupted in cheers, jeers, and the stomp of boots.

And then, they lunged.

Jack moved with surprising speed for his size, his fist like a hammer as it crashed into Bruno’s jaw.

Bruno staggered back, teeth snapping together with a crack, but he answered with a wild hook that clipped Jack across the cheek.

The blow barely rocked the bigger man.

Jack roared, driving forward, his fists a blur. Each punch landed like a drumbeat, pounding Bruno back step by step.

The thug blocked one, ducked another, but the third and fourth caught him square in the ribs. A sickening crunch echoed in the bar.

“Come on!” Jack bellowed, shoving Bruno across the floor. “You talk big, but this is all you’ve got?”

Bruno spat blood, laughing even as he doubled over. His body swayed with the rhythm of a man barely clinging to his feet.

The crowd howled, some cheering for Jack, others screaming for Bruno.

Coins changed hands in secret wagers, and mugs sloshed as men shouted.

Jack didn’t relent. He stepped in again, his boot smashing into Bruno’s knee.

The smaller man collapsed, but Jack dragged him back up by the collar of his shirt and slammed his forehead into Bruno’s nose. Blood sprayed across the floorboards.

“Pathetic,” Jack snarled, shoving him back. “You thought you could take my throne with fists like paper?”

Bruno reeled, his nose crooked, eyes swelling shut. Yet he smiled through the mask of blood, his laughter ragged and low.

Jack continued, raining blows on the man. His fists turned Bruno’s face into a pulpy mess, his ribs battered until he wheezed with every breath.

Still, Bruno refused to stay down.

Noah watched it all with narrowed eyes.

He could see it. The pattern.

Jack’s dominance wasn’t only in strength. It was confidence, every strike fueled by his certainty that he was king here.

Bruno, though bloodied and bent, carried something else. Something darker.

Jack landed another heavy strike that sent Bruno sprawling to the ground.

The thug coughed, blood spilling across the floorboards, then rolled onto his back, laughing weakly.

“You… you think this is done?” Bruno wheezed, his voice cracked.

He spat another tooth onto the ground, grinning through the blood. “I was hoping it wouldn’t come to this, Jack. Really, I was.”

Jack sneered, looming over him. “You’ve lost. All that’s left is for you to crawl like the dog you are.”

Bruno chuckled, shaking his head. His hand dipped into the pocket of his torn trousers, fumbling for something.

The crowd hushed, curiosity sparking as they leaned forward.

“Crawl?” Bruno said, blood bubbling in his throat. “No… you’ve asked for it.”

His fingers curled around a small vial. With a ragged laugh, he yanked it free, the glass catching the dim lantern light.

Inside swirled a liquid the color of molten gold, shot through with veins of pulsing red.

“What the hell is that?” someone shouted from the crowd.

Jack’s brow furrowed, but he didn’t move fast enough.

Bruno popped the cork with his teeth, spat it aside, and in one smooth tilt of his head, drank deep.

The bar went dead silent, all eyes locked on him as he swallowed the last drop.

Bruno’s laughter curdled into a scream.

His body convulsed, his back arching as the empty vial clattered from his hand.

The sound that tore out of his throat was raw and inhuman, a howl that scraped across the walls of the bar and froze blood in veins.

His eyes rolled back, then snapped open, completely black, the pupils swallowed whole, with jagged red veins crawling outward like cracks across glass.

His skin rippled, stretching as if something beneath it clawed to break free.

Hair sprouted in thick waves from his scalp, tumbling down in wild strands, its color darkening shade by shade until it was a pitch, unnatural black.

His forehead bulged, skin tearing as twin horns pushed their way out, curling upward, jagged and slick with blood.

The crowd erupted into chaos.

Patrons screamed, stumbling over benches and each other in a frantic rush for the door.

Tankards crashed to the ground, ale soaking into the floorboards as chairs splintered beneath trampling boots.

“Monster!” someone shrieked. “He’s a monster!”

Jack stumbled back, his earlier bravado torn away in an instant.

His fists clenched uselessly at his sides, his eyes wide as the man he’d nearly beaten to death rose taller, broader, his muscles bulging grotesquely beneath his skin.

Bruno roared.

The sound was not a man’s.

It was guttural and primal, the voice of something that belonged to the abyss.

Spittle flew from his jagged teeth as he lashed out, smashing a table to splinters with a single swing of his arm.

The stench of burning copper filled the air.

His body trembled with every twitch, sanity stripped away, leaving nothing but hunger and rage.

Jack backed further, his boots skidding on ale-slick boards.

The crowd’s panic swelled, the word on everyone’s lips carried like wildfire.

“Demon!”

From his corner, Noah rose slowly to his feet, his eyes burning.

His jaw clenched, his expression shifting from surprise to grim certainty.

The descriptions… the darkness in the veins, the horns, the hunger that howled through the roar.

He was staring at a demon.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep