Villain Origin : Every Crime I Commit Helps Me Level Up-Chapter 30: Blackridge Docks

The night enveloped the Blackridge Docks in an inky darkness, broken only by scattered industrial lights that cast long, jagged shadows. Andre's tactical team moved with calculated precision, their plan unfolding like a carefully choreographed dance of chaos. The darkness became their ally, concealing their approach and lending an extra layer of menace to their strategy.

The docks erupted into controlled chaos. Andre's tactical team of street-hardened fighters moved with coordination. Some wielded makeshift weapons—metal pipes, shortened baseball bats, and chain-linked weapons. They charged forward in coordinated groups, creating pockets of intense confrontation against Marcus's men.

Marcus stood at the center of his own contingent, his posture radiating a calm that belied the impending storm. With a single, deliberate hand gesture, he signaled his entire force to engage. In an instant, the dock transformed into a battlefield of street fighters and gang members. Then, as quickly as the chaos began, Marcus raised another hand—a command that froze his entire force.

"Unnecessary," he said, his voice cutting through the night's din. "These cheap tactical maneuvers mean nothing. We have one objective—cut off the head."

Andre studied Marcus, his Aura already beginning to farm and gather energy around him. "Where is Victor?" he asked directly.

Marcus simply pointed towards an old industrial complex at the far end of the docks, its weathered structure barely visible through the darkness. "Victor awaits," he said succinctly.

Andre looked at Ken and Hawk, a silent communication passing between them. Hawk gave a confident nod, his hand brushing against the black gauntlets. "We've got this," he said firmly. Ken's stance mirrored the same resolute assurance.

Without further hesitation, Andre moved to depart, trusting his team to handle the tactical engagement and the confrontation with Marcus.

Ken pulled Hawk aside. "Be careful," he warned, his voice low. "Marcus isn't just another fighter. He possesses superhuman abilities that go beyond normal combat techniques."

Hawk's response was a cocky smirk, his hand brushing against the black gauntlets. "Don't worry about me," he replied, a dangerous glint in his eyes. "The boss is counting on me. I've got my own tricks."

Ken's departure was swift and purposeful, leaving Hawk and Marcus facing each other as the sounds of street combat continued around them—but noticeably distant, as if the entire dock had cleared a space for their impending confrontation.

Marcus was the first to speak, his voice dripping with contempt and a hint of sardonic amusement. "Well, well. Look who decided to crawl out of whatever rat hole he's been hiding in. Tell me, Hawk, did you really learn nothing from your last... misadventure? Last time you thought you could challenge the big leagues, you were nothing more than a wounded puppy limping away from a pack of wolves."

He circled Hawk slowly, each step calculated, his voice taking on a mocking, drawn-out cadence. "I've watched you. Running your little band of misfits, playing at being something more than a street-level thug. Did you really think you could swim in these waters? These are the depths where titans clash, where legends are forged—and where insignificant players like you get crushed beneath the waves."

Marcus's laugh was cold, calculated—a sound that seemed to drip with years of accumulated contempt. "You should have stayed hidden. Continued ruling your pathetic little domain. But no—ambition is a disease that makes small men believe they can challenge giants. Victor is going to eat you alive, just like I would have if our last encounter hadn't been... interrupted."

Hawk's hand unconsciously brushed against his black gauntlets, the metal catching what little light existed. 'Twenty-five minutes,' he reminded himself. 'Twenty-five minutes to end this.'

"The last time we fought," Hawk responded, his voice steady despite the provocation, "I was unprepared. My technique was raw, untested. I thought skill alone would be enough. I was wrong." A dangerous smile played across his lips. "But mistakes are lessons, Marcus. And I've learned more in our time apart than you could imagine."

Marcus raised an eyebrow, his interest slightly piqued. "Oh? And what makes you think this time will be any different? What grand revelation have you stumbled upon that could possibly change the outcome?"

Hawk's fingers traced the outline of his black gauntlets. "A gift," he said simply. "Something I think you'll find... interesting."

"Interesting?" Marcus scoffed. "The only thing that would be interesting is watching you fall—again."

The fight erupted without warning. Marcus, utilizing his Weightless Force technique, seemed to move without the constraints of normal physics. His first strike came not as a direct punch, but as a wave of redirected kinetic energy that should have sent Hawk flying.

But Hawk was no ordinary opponent. His Adrenaline Mastery kicked in, his body absorbing and redirecting the impact. 'Pain is just another form of energy,' he thought, rolling with the strike and maintaining his ground.

The black gauntlets on Hawk's hands began to pulse with an internal energy, a testament to the weapon's unique design. Each movement was calculated, each strike a potential game-changer.

Marcus's initial surprise was evident. 'He's not using brute strength—he's reading the flow of energy. When did he become this refined?'

Hawk's thoughts raced. 'Adrenaline Mastery—it's more than just a fighting technique. It's about transforming biological stress into pure, controlled energy. Every spike of cortisol, every rush of epinephrine becomes a weapon. Where others see pain, I see potential. My body doesn't just endure—it adapts, redirects, transforms.'

He processed these thoughts in a millisecond. 'Keep moving. Don't let him establish a rhythm. Thirty minutes—that's all I have.'

The dock became their arena. Wood splintered. Metal screeched. Their battle was less a martial arts display and more a brutal, primal clash of willpower and technique.

Marcus's Weightless Force allowed him to redirect strikes with minimal movement, creating phantom impacts that seemed to come from impossible angles. Hawk countered with pure, raw adrenaline-fueled responsiveness, his body adapting faster than Marcus could predict.

'He's become stronger,' Marcus thought, a hint of genuine respect mixing with his contempt. 'Those gauntlets... they're more than just a weapon. They're changing how he fights.'

The first real signs of Marcus's superior technique began to show. His strikes became more precise, more devastating. Each blow carried the accumulated wisdom of the warrior- Taoist monks who developed the Weightless Force technique.

Hawk's gauntlets began to glow with pulshing energy. 'Twenty-eight minutes left. Stay sharp.'

The battle intensified. Marcus unleashed a series of complex strikes, his Weightless Force creating invisible vectors of kinetic energy that should have shattered bone and torn muscle. But Hawk's Adrenaline Mastery turned each potential devastating blow into a calculated dance of survival.

A particularly vicious strike sent Hawk sliding across the wooden dock, splintering planks in his wake. But instead of being defeated, he used the momentum, rolling and transforming what should have been a crushing blow into a redirected counterattack. His black gauntlets sparked with an internal energy, creating momentary arcs of electrical-like discharge.

Marcus's eyes narrowed. 'He's adapting faster than before. Each strike, each movement—he's learning, processing, evolving in real-time.'

Hawk pressed his advantage. The gauntlets began to pulse with an increasingly intense rhythm, synchronizing with his accelerated heartbeat. Each punch carried not just physical force, but a strange, almost vibrational energy that seemed to momentarily distort the very air around Marcus.

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'Twenty-five minutes,' Hawk reminded himself. 'Just need to hold out. Keep him off balance.'

Wood continued to splinter. Metal supports of nearby cargo containers groaned under the impact of their superhuman confrontation. The dock became a battleground of impossible physics—Marcus manipulating kinetic energy like a maestro, Hawk absorbing and redirecting every strike with his unique Adrenaline Mastery.

A particularly devastating exchange sent both fighters momentarily airborne. Marcus's Weightless Force technique allowed him to hover and redirect mid-air, while Hawk's body twisted with impossible flexibility, absorbing and dispersing impact forces that would have liquefied a normal human.

The fight was far from over. Each moment was a calculated risk, a breath-taking dance of survival and technique. Their battle had only just begun, promising more brutality, more complexity—a testament to their unresolved history and the superhuman abilities that defined their conflict.

The night was far from over, and their battle was just reaching its true intensity.