Chapter 44: The Demolished Fight Club

Luka took a deep breath and looked at Theresa and the others. Their beautiful and endearing appearances made it difficult for him to clench his fists. But Theresa, a former trailblazer, knew Luka wasn't a bad person.

"Hey, kid," Theresa whispered, startling Luka. He looked up in surprise, wondering if she was talking to him.

"Wanna piss off that old geezer? How about we throw the match and start tearing down his Fight Club?"

"Like, you dodge our attacks, we dodge yours, and we all aim for the club walls."

Theresa's quiet suggestion made Luka's eyes light up. He discreetly nodded to the four women.

The group began their performance. March 7th unleashed a barrage of icy arrows that narrowly missed Luka, striking the Fight Club's walls and freezing them solid. As everyone knew, frozen objects become extremely brittle.

Bronya pulled out her gun and fired at Luka, who carefully dodged the bullets. The shots slammed into the frozen walls, shattering them completely in a thunderous crash. The audience erupted in panic and fled the club—they were willing to pay for entertainment, but not with their lives!

Amidst Scott's anguished cries, the once-packed audience fled in droves, some even snatching up Shields scattered on the floor. Seeing this, Scott frantically shouted at the fighters to protect the table where the Shields were displayed, but they shook their heads, watching bullets and arrows whiz through the air as the Fight Club crumbled around them.

No one dared approach while the two sides were still locked in furious combat. Their lives were too precious to risk being caught in the crossfire.

Then, to Scott's stunned disbelief, Theresa sprinted to the table, leaped onto it, and Luka's ferocious punch slammed into the surface with a deafening crash. Shields flew everywhere, and the Underworld residents erupted into a frenzy, scrambling to grab them.

"No! My Shields! My precious money! Dr. Dig! The medicine! Give me the medicine!"

Overwhelmed by despair, Scott slumped to the ground, his vision darkening.

Yet Dr. Dig simply turned away, watching him coldly. Not only that, but his fighters all retreated, their faces indifferent as they watched him writhe.

"You! You ungrateful wretches! I was the one who kept you fed!"

Scott roared in furious desperation as the Fight Club collapsed in a final, thunderous crash. March 7th had already swiftly collected most of the Shields. She planned to observe Wildfire for a while; if they proved trustworthy, she would entrust the Shields to them, ensuring they were returned to their rightful owners.

"Hahaha! That was so satisfying!"

"Let that accursed building crumble to dust!"

Luka shouted gleefully, joined by the cheering of the Underworld residents. Scott, meanwhile, had succumbed to a rage-induced death, but no one paid him any mind.

"Thank you for coming and shattering the corrupt rules of this place, and for guiding this pathetic and hateful man to his end," Luka said with a sigh, glancing at Scott's corpse lying neglected on the ground.

"We never meant for him to die of anger! We just wanted to teach him a lesson!" March 7th cried, clinging fearfully to Theresa. The young girl's guilt-stricken appearance drew bittersweet smiles from the crowd.

"Don't blame yourself so much, March," Luka reassured her. "Think of all the people he harmed and ruined. Did they choose to suffer?"

"This isn't our fault," Dan Heng said, stepping forward to reassure a frightened March 7th. "He brought this upon himself."

Luka nodded in agreement. While he was grateful to Scott for funding his prosthetic arm, he explained, he despised the man for indirectly helping him amass wealth and ruin countless lives over the years.

"Enough," Luka said. "I no longer owe this place anything. Tomorrow, I'll return to Wildfire and confess everything—every shady deal I made for Scott. I'll repent for my actions and hope for redemption."

"In the end, we must respect the dead. Scott helped me once, so I'll grant him this final kindness: a proper burial."

Luka sighed bitterly, then walked to Scott's corpse and lifted it into his arms. He slowly departed under the resentful glares of the Underworld residents.

"Life is hard for everyone here," Bronya murmured sadly, her expression darkening. "The miners suffer from pneumoconiosis, Wildfire soldiers face Fragmentum monsters, and the common folk live in constant uncertainty." The young girl blamed herself, convinced the Silvermane Guards had failed to protect the people of the Underworld.

"This isn't your fault, Bronya," March 7th said. "Cocolia was corrupted by the Stellaron. The Stellaron should bear the responsibility for her actions."

"After all, you told us last night that Cocolia was a kind and gentle mother when you were little. We also learned that you were adopted, since every Supreme Guardian remains unmarried. Why is it that none of them ever seem to marry?" March 7th asked, looking at Bronya with curiosity.

"I'm not entirely sure," Bronya replied, shaking her head in confusion. "It seems that from ancient times, Supreme Guardians have lived solely to protect the people. There's some kind of unspoken rule that prevents them from starting new families. I don't know the exact reason."

"Alright, I think I see Sampo over there, watching the commotion from a distance," March 7th said. "Let's go find him. That guy vanished the moment we got off the train—always pulling some kind of sneaky ambush."

Theresa, with her sharp eyes, spotted Sampo's furtive figure and alerted the others. They immediately gave chase in the direction he had fled, leaving the crowd behind to scavenge for scattered Shields.

Soon, Wildfire arrived to manage the ruins of the Fight Club. Learning from the Nameless's previous experience, they proposed converting the site into a massive shopping mall. This would not only revitalize the area but also address the issue of unregulated street vendors, achieving two goals with one stone.

Meanwhile, Theresa leaped onto Sampo's back before he could react. Giggling, she watched him struggle on the ground.

"Run, Sampo! Weren't you so good at running? Want the Oath of Judah to add a little spark to your escape?" Theresa teased, her eyes gleaming with mischief.

March 7th kicked Sampo's backside indignantly. "Exactly! You always stab us in the back and then blame us for not trusting you! How can anyone trust a backstabber like you?"

Stelle pulled out her baseball bat, eyeing Sampo's head with barely concealed eagerness. She was about to swing when a mortified Dan Heng stopped her.