"Three."
"Two."
"One."
"Go!" Nora announced, with the energy of someone who had way too much money riding on this.
They both pushed. Everything they had. Muscles trembling. Veins bulging. Eyes locked on each other like even blinking could cost them everything.
Neither one of them budged.
Not an inch. Not a millimeter. Not even a little.
The table, however, was having the worst day of its life. It groaned beneath them—a deep, wooden scream that said, I was not built for this.
The floorboards cracked like they were begging for mercy. Dust rained from the ceiling. Drinks rattled off tables, shattering on the floor.
And the crowd's expressions shifted. The laughter died, cut off mid-breath, replaced by something no one in the tavern expected.
Confusion.
Because the brute—the mountain of a man who could snap most people like kindling—couldn't push a kid's arm down.
"Wait… how is he not winning yet?" someone muttered.
"Maybe he's going easy on the kid?"
"Has to be. Look at the size of him. There's no way—"
"C'mon, Darius!" the crowd cheered, but the energy had changed. The easy confidence was gone.
Their voices now were a little too loud. A bit too forced.
But their words hit Darius like fuel on a fire.
His face lit up—not with anger, but excitement. Pure, raw, childlike excitement. The kind that said, finally, something fun.
He pushed harder.
And he felt it—a cracking sensation that ran through his shoulder like a warning shot.
'Oh. That's not good.'
The man was strong. Seriously strong. Years of training showed in every fiber, every vein, every calloused inch of that ridiculous arm.
But he was stronger.
For two good reasons.
His greatest ability—Limitless.
Every time he took damage, every time he stood at the brink of death and somehow lived, he came out the other side stronger. Faster. Harder to break.
His body didn't just heal.
It evolved.
And Rei's endless conditioning didn't hurt either. Years in the well. Trial against the Ebony Knight.
And not to mention yesterday—getting beaten down by two lieutenants who treated him like a punching bag.
Every hit. Every bruise. Every broken bone.
Limitless devoured all of it. Slowly adding up. Stacking.
He braced his legs. Grounding himself, he pushed with everything he had.
The man's arm slammed down so hard the table exploded.
Wood cracked. Shattered. Splinters everywhere.
The entire tavern went dead silent.
The brute stared at the destruction. Then at Shiro. His eyes went wide.
He wasn't upset.
Excited.
Pure, unfiltered, slightly concerning excitement.
"Good job, kid," Darius muttered, slapping his back with what was probably meant to be a friendly pat.
He staggered forward three full steps.
'That was friendly?!'
He turned around, ready to give the brute a piece of his mind—but before he could even open his mouth—
"I'M RICH!" Nora shouted, her face glowing as she scooped up the bag of coins. She clutched it to her chest like a newborn child, rocking it, whispering to it. Way too excited. Suspiciously excited.
'Same as always,' Shiro muttered, lost in his own world, watching her with a faint smile he didn't realize was there.
"They might all be working together," someone in the crowd muttered. "Some kind of scam."
Darius's smile just disappeared.
'Dumbass.'
The brute turned slowly toward the voice. He wasn't angry, exactly. Something worse. Offended. Like the accusation had physically wounded his pride.
He took a step forward, and the floor groaned under him.
Whoever said it had about three seconds to start running.
"You can't lose to a kid and expect us to just believe it," one of them added.
'I mean… fair point.'
Nora pushed through the crowd, the bag of coins clutched to her chest, and flashed them a devilish smile. The kind of smile that meant someone was about to have a very bad time, and it wasn't going to be her.
"If you think that, then anyone here can take on my champion." She gestured at Shiro like he was livestock at auction. "Put your money where your mouth is. He'll take on whoever you pick."
He head snapped toward her.
"Hey—I didn't agree to this."
"Shut up and go make me more money," she growled, and the look in her eyes actually terrified him.
But it wasn't mean. That was just how she sounded when she was excited. All teeth and fire and zero volume control. It was the same energy she'd had as a kid—the kind that turned every game into a war and every coin into a conquest.
And he could never say no to her. Not as a kid. And especially not now—partly because she was significantly scarier with a real sword instead of a wooden one.
But mostly because she was the closest thing to a friend he'd ever had.
He could still see it. She'd use him as a horse—literally climb on his back and charge into imaginary battles against evil monsters, yanking his hair like reins while he ran face-first into bushes.
And when they played princess versus the evil villain, guess who always got to be the villain?
Every. Single. Time.
She'd chase him through the streets with a wooden sword, screaming battle cries, while he ran for his life wondering why the princess was scarier than the monster.
'Some things never change.' A faint smile tugged at his lips.
He sat down like an obedient little puppy.
A moment later, a man volunteered. Well built. Nothing special. Basic. The kind of guy who looked tough until he stood next to Darius.
"Go!" Nora shouted.
Shiro grabbed his hand.
The problem was—his body was still calibrated for Darius. Still running on the same setting.
And he forgot to turn it down.
The table exploded.
Along with the man's arm.
A crack echoed through the tavern.
Then silence.
Complete, horrified silence.
The man looked at Shiro.
Then at his arm.
Then back at Shiro.
There was a pause. A long, terrible pause where his brain and his body were having two very different conversations. His eyes said, that doesn't look right. His nerves said, THAT DOESN'T FEEL RIGHT.
His arm hung there, limp, bent at an angle that arms were never meant to bend.
The realization hit him like a freight train.
He screamed.
And the door had never seen a man move that fast.
"Who's next?!" Nora shouted, waving the coin bag like a war flag.
Silence.
Every single person in the tavern suddenly found their drinks very interesting. Chairs scooted back. Eyes dropped. One guy pretended to be asleep.
"Yeah. That's what I thought." She grinned, satisfied.
"Atta boy." Darius slapped his back again.
Shiro stumbled forward, his spine rearranging itself.
'When I return here, I'm going to kill you first, you damn brute.'