The base was quiet again, breaths heavy in the smoke-thick air. Daniel's shoulders rose and fell, his fists still half-clenched though the last fight had already ended. He stood still for a moment, forcing air into his lungs, his cheek stung raw and his shirt damp with sweat.
It gave him a sliver of space to breathe. The noise in the base dimmed into nothing.
He could hear it — Julian's voice. That sharp cry when his arm had been bent past the point of breaking. The sound dug into him, raw, endless. Then Logan — his head slammed into the pillar, blood rushing down his face, eyes unfocused as he tried to hold himself up.
Daniel's eyes closed for a second. The images sharpened. The pain wasn't his, but he felt it like it was carved into his chest. When his lids lifted again, his stare was colder than before.
The circle widened. Two figures stepped in. Older, stronger, their presence alone stirred the Legion into whispers. Everyone knew. These were the ones.
Daniel's jaw tightened.
The first man approached, flexing his hands, a cruel smirk twisting his mouth as if he carried no regret for what he'd done.
Daniel didn't wait.
He launched forward, his movements sharp and fluid, rage shaping each blow. His fists cut through the man's guard, a storm of strikes pounding against ribs, chest, and jaw. The man staggered, tried to anchor himself — but Daniel's rhythm was relentless. His final strike drove into the man's stomach so hard that he dropped to his knees, gasping, arms wrapped around himself like they might hold him together.
The crowd stirred. Daniel's eyes had already shifted to the second.
The fight raged on — but the focus of the hall slid, the air bending toward a different gravity.
Rowan had stepped to James' side. Neither spoke at first. The sound of fists and bone filled the silence.
Rowan's voice was quiet when he finally spoke. "What do you think of him?" Rowan's voice was quiet, almost lost under the shuffle of feet. Then, softer—"If things had been different… would I have ever surpassed him?"
James didn't blink. His eyes stayed locked on Daniel."If you'd asked me that the first time I saw him, I would've said yes. Back then, he was just another kid trying too hard. But now…" His voice trailed, then steadied again, calm as ever. "Now, he's fighting with purpose. He isn't just beating them. He's breaking them apart."
Rowan frowned, but James went on."He's beyond what we imagined. Not even Dane could beat him now."
That finally drew Dane's attention. He leaned back slightly, lips curling, not insulted but faintly amused."Oh? That's a bold thing to say." His voice carried a trace of mockery, but his eyes lingered on Daniel a beat longer than usual.
Then, almost offhand — yet cutting through the air — Dane added,"At this rate… he's already brushing shoulders with Gideon. You know what that means."
The words dropped heavy. Gideon Cross — a name that still echoed like a myth in the crew world. The maniac who had once torn through crews while still in high school, carving his legend in blood and chaos.
And now, watching Daniel fight, the comparison didn't feel like exaggeration. His rage carried weight, but it wasn't blind like Gideon's. His strikes weren't for dominance — they were for his friends. And that difference, subtle yet undeniable, was what made Rowan's chest tighten.
When his gaze flicked back, the second man was already crumbling. Daniel's fury had drowned him, every strike brutal, every movement filled with the echoes of his friends' pain. The man collapsed, and Daniel stood over him, chest heaving, until at last the fight was done.
Daniel let out a slow breath. His knees weakened, and he let himself sink to the floor, the cold concrete pressing against his back as he stared at the ceiling. He didn't care how filthy it was. Right now, stillness was the only thing that felt real.
His body tingled from exhaustion, each nerve alive with pain. The high of battle had ebbed, leaving only the heavy weight of what had been done. Around him, voices blurred, movements slowed, like the world itself was catching its breath.
Footsteps broke through.
His group was approaching, battered and slow. Ethan. Ryan. Rowan. Zach. Owen holding Logan. Adrian supporting Julian, whose arm hung limp. All of them bruised, bloodied, barely standing — but still here.
Daniel saw them, and despite everything, a smile flickered across his lips. A tired chuckle followed, cut short when pain shot through his ribs. He winced, doubling slightly, and Ethan and Zach rushed to steady him.
Rowan stopped in front of him, his eyes searching. Daniel met his gaze, breath still uneven.
"Thanks," Daniel murmured.
Rowan froze. Compared to Daniel — what had he even done? And yet Daniel had thanked him. Slowly, almost in disbelief, a faint smile touched his face. Because that was just who Daniel was.
The group stood together, battered but unbroken. Owen tightened his hold on Logan. Adrian shifted Julian's weight, making sure he didn't collapse. They all needed help — desperately — but none of them spoke it aloud.
The silence broke when James stepped forward. His voice cut through the hall, calm but heavy.
"From today onwards," he said, "Daniel is the leader of Shadow Legion."
The words struck the room like iron. No disbelief followed. Only silence, heavy with truth.
James didn't pause. His gaze fixed on the chief executives, sharp as a drawn blade."And as for you… it's time for our fight."
The circle reformed. The air thickened again.
Daniel and his friends leaned on one another, step by step, and began to walk toward the doors. Behind them, James rolled his shoulders, stretching his arms loose. His presence swelled, filling the space like a tide.
The doors shut behind Daniel's group. The fight inside didn't need to be seen.
Everyone already knew how it would end.