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Chapter 11 - Stepping Stone

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"Regas, what nonsense are you spouting? Do you have a death wish?!"

Kaz barked at the Dar Gang's patrol captain, his voice loud but betraying a hint of weakness. He drew his katana and glared with murderous intent, as if ready to strike at the slightest provocation.

When their squad leader suddenly raised his weapon, Aaron and the rest of the Frosthorn Gang members followed suit, drawing their weapons and aiming at the Dar Gang across from them, fully prepared for a brawl to break out at any moment.

The air instantly became tense, like a taut bowstring ready to snap. Bystanders scattered in a hurry, clearing enough space for the two gangs to tear into each other.

But strangely, many of the Frosthorn Gang's own members weren't focused on the enemy in front of them — their eyes were fixed on Kaz instead. Most wore expressions of anger, but a few showed thinly veiled excitement.

They had all heard it. Regas had just announced that Kaz's right hand was crippled, and that he could no longer wield a sword as he once had.

In the underworld, few are fools. The moment they heard this and recalled Kaz's recent reluctance to clash head-on with the Dar Gang, everything clicked into place.

No wonder he'd been avoiding direct fights — he was injured.

And if Kaz was crippled, then he had no right to hold onto the position of Patrol Captain. Naturally, that role should go to someone more capable.

Several veterans of the Danger Patrol Unit instantly began eyeing the position for themselves, caring less about the current standoff and more about how they could claim this lucrative post.

Though the patrol captaincy was the lowest rung in the Frosthorn Gang's management, it still meant territory, influence, and a seat among the gang's inner circle.

And for the dock patrol captain? The perks were enormous. Once you got that post, the money flowed like water.

"Go on, keep pretending," Regas sneered. "You're good at it, I'll give you that. If my men hadn't seen you at Dr. Kureha's place yesterday, I might've believed you. Her fees aren't cheap, are they? But looks like even she couldn't fix your useless right hand. Hahaha~"

The moment Regas saw Kaz's expression, all his doubts vanished. Yesterday's unexpected intel had been spot-on. His sneer widened.

Seeing his long-time rival flustered brought Regas immense satisfaction. At the same time, anger simmered — Kaz had managed to fool him for so long, treating him like an idiot. Unforgivable. But watching Kaz's composure crumble was delicious payback.

When Kureha's name was spoken aloud, Kaz's face went pale. Any lingering hope he had of keeping his injury secret was gone. Madness crept into his eyes, twisting his features into a snarl.

Regas had just destroyed the income stream Kaz had worked so hard to build.

Without the patrol captaincy, those once-respectful merchants would turn on him in an instant — maybe even settle old scores. Regas was pushing him into a corner.

"You bastard!"

Seeing his comfortable life slipping away forever, Kaz roared in rage. He hurled his katana straight at Regas, forcing him to dodge, and in that instant drew the pistol at his waist and fired.

BANG!

The bullet tore through the air, striking Regas in the arm.

Kaz hated Regas to the core. Their feud was old — Regas had injured his hand before, and now was forcing him to ruin. If Regas wouldn't let him live, then he wouldn't let Regas live either. No hesitation — just a surprise attack.

The shot was the spark that lit the powder keg.

Regas, wounded, was the first to recover. Ignoring the pain in his arm, he snatched up a sailor's axe and charged straight for Kaz, eyes locked on his target. He would kill this man with his own hands.

Seeing their captain's fearless charge, the Dar Gang roared and surged forward, weapons raised. Their gunmen dove for cover and opened fire.

The Frosthorn Gang wasn't slow to respond. These were no cowards — they were hardened outlaws. Kaz's injury had forced them to swallow their pride for too long, and now their pent-up fury erupted. Swords clashed, shots rang out, and the fight turned savage.

The dock became a slaughterhouse.

Aaron, however, did not take cover like the other gunmen.

This was his stage — his chance to stand out. He stood tall in the open, firing without pause.

With his intermediate marksmanship, a scope, and a good weapon, he could hit targets hundreds of meters away without missing. At twenty meters, even while moving, he was deadly accurate with his five-shot revolver.

Within seconds, all eight of the Dar Gang's gunmen — most with only basic shooting skills — lay dead, each felled by Aaron's bullets.

The Dar Gang had lost all their firepower in the blink of an eye.

Everyone saw it. Aaron's skill was undeniable, and the Frosthorn Gang's morale surged. Those who had secretly thrown their lot in with him fought with renewed vigor.

The Dar Gang's expressions shifted from rage to fear. To them, Aaron was no man — he was a beast.

Against such a sharpshooter, ordinary gangsters had no hope. If he could wipe out their gunmen so easily, the rest of them stood no chance, especially with his allies at his side.

Regas, though, was nothing if not brave. Seeing Aaron's deadly precision, he didn't retreat — he abandoned the crippled Kaz entirely and charged straight at Aaron, axe in hand, a snarl on his face.

But Regas wasn't a master of close combat, nor could he use techniques like Soru to instantly close the distance. Between them lay over ten meters — far too much.

When he chose to rush Aaron, he was already staring into the eyes of death.

BANG!

Aaron didn't hesitate. His revolver flashed, and a bullet pierced Regas's forehead. The Dar Gang's patrol captain crumpled to the ground, dead before he hit it.

Yet in his final moments, the fearless Regas hurled his sailor's axe like a spinning windmill straight at Aaron.

Many thought this dying blow would take Aaron with him. But without flinching, Aaron fired three rapid shots, each hitting the axe in mid-air, knocking it harmlessly to the ground.

Every witness froze, stunned.

The strong live. The weak die.

With their captain dead and his last strike thwarted, the remaining Dar Gang members dropped their weapons and bolted in terror.

They wouldn't get far. Today, they were fated to become stepping stones for one man's rise to glory at the Velia Harbor docks.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Aaron's gun roared again.

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