The Path Of A True King.-Chapter 21: Taking Over (1)

Chapter 61

The hideout reeked of sweat, blood, and cheap alcohol, the air thick with tension as Elijah and his crew stormed the base.

The moment they stepped through the threshold, alarms blared, and gang members flooded the halls, weapons drawn.

They were outnumbered but not outmatched.

Elijah didn’t hesitate. He looked at his team, nodded, and bolted up the stairs.

His mission was clear—get to the boss. Behind him, his crew held the ground floor, ensuring no one followed him.

Tony gripped a bat, its steel surface stained from previous battles.

His combat style was raw and merciless, every swing aimed to break bone and shatter confidence.

A thug rushed at him with a knife, slashing wildly.

Tony stepped back just enough to dodge before retaliating with a devastating swing to the ribs.

A sickening crunch echoed through the hall as the man dropped, wheezing in pain.

Another came from the side, swinging a metal pipe.

Tony barely ducked in time, the pipe whooshing past his head.

He twisted, using the momentum to drive his bat into the man’s kneecap.

The thug screamed as he collapsed.

Tony didn’t stop.

A downward strike crushed the man’s shoulder, leaving him writhing in agony.

"Stay down," Tony muttered, turning to find his next target.

Dean moved with deadly precision, his pistols barking in rapid succession.

He was a crack shot, each bullet finding its mark.

A gangster tried to fire from behind cover, but Dean anticipated the movement.

He fired first, striking the man’s hand, forcing him to drop his weapon.

Before he could react, a second shot pierced his thigh, sending him to the ground.

Suddenly, more gangsters poured into the hallway, this time armed with firearms.

Muzzles flashed, the air filled with deafening bursts of gunfire.

Dean cursed and dived behind an overturned couch as bullets shredded through the wooden panels beside him.

Jack and Kai had taken cover behind a thick concrete column.

Bullets ricocheted off the surface, sending bits of debris flying. "These bastards came prepared," Jack growled, cracking his knuckles.

"Yeah," Kai muttered, eyes scanning their opponents. "But so did we."

Dean took a deep breath and popped up, firing two precise shots.

One gangster dropped instantly, clutching his throat, while another fell back screaming, his shoulder torn apart by the bullet.

But the enemy wasn’t stupid—they kept firing, suppressing any movement.

Jack clenched his fists, itching for action. "Kai, you ready?"

Kai smirked. "Always."

With a sudden burst of speed, Kai dashed from cover.

The gangsters barely had time to react before he was among them.

Bullets whizzed past, but his reflexes were beyond human.

He twisted, ducked, and sidestepped with unnatural grace, each movement fluid as he closed the distance.

The nearest thug tried to aim, but Kai’s dagger plunged into his wrist before he could pull the trigger.

The man screamed, only for Kai to end it with a swift slash to his throat.

Jack followed right behind, his approach far less graceful but equally effective.

A gangster turned his pistol towards him, but Jack grabbed the barrel and forced it upwards as the shot fired into the ceiling.

His fist slammed into the thug’s jaw, sending him sprawling.

Another raised his gun, but Jack grabbed a wooden chair and shattered it across the man’s face before stomping on his head for good measure.

By now, the remaining gunmen were faltering.

Dean took advantage of their hesitation, stepping out and dropping two more with precise headshots.

The last thug turned to run, but Tony intercepted him, swinging his bat into the man’s gut.

The gangster collapsed, coughing blood. "You don’t get to run," Tony growled.

But then, a new presence entered the battlefield.

Jack and Kai both turned as two figures emerged from the far end of the hall. Their auras were heavy, suffocating, their presence alone demanding attention.

Intermediate Knight Stage.

Jack cracked his knuckles. "Finally, someone worth fighting."

The first opponent was a massive brute, easily over six feet tall, his muscles bulging beneath a sleeveless jacket.

He wielded a pair of iron gauntlets, his fists practically hammers.

"I’ve been waiting for a good fight," he rumbled, rolling his shoulders. "Let’s see if you’re worth my time."

Jack grinned. "I was thinking the same thing."

Without another word, they clashed.

The brute swung a fist, the force behind it enough to dent steel.

Jack met him head-on, their fists colliding with a shockwave that sent dust scattering. The impact alone made nearby gangsters stumble.

But Jack didn’t flinch.

He grinned wider. "Not bad."

The brute growled and came in swinging.

Jack dodged left, then right, his instincts razor-sharp.

He countered with a hook to the ribs, making the brute grunt, but the man retaliated instantly with an uppercut.

Jack barely managed to block, his arms tingling from the force. "You’re strong," Jack admitted.

Meanwhile, Kai faced a much different opponent.

His enemy was lean, dressed in dark combat gear, and wielded twin short swords.

His eyes were cold, calculating. "You’re fast," the man said, twirling his blades. "But let’s see if you can outrun steel."

Kai smirked, spinning his daggers in response. "Let’s find out."

The swordsman lunged, his attacks a blur.

Kai barely evaded, the blades slicing through the air inches from his skin.

He countered, darting forward with a precise strike, but his opponent deflected it effortlessly, his movements precise and practiced.

They danced across the battlefield, a whirlwind of flashing steel and blurred motion.

Every attack, every counter, was met with equal skill. Kai grinned. "You’re good."

The swordsman narrowed his eyes. "You’re not bad yourself."

The fight escalated.

The brute and Jack exchanged thunderous blows, their battle shaking the ground.

Kai and the swordsman moved like phantoms, their blades clashing in rapid succession.

Meanwhile, Dean, Tony, and the others kept the remaining gangsters at bay, ensuring that no one interfered.

Upstairs, Elijah continued his ascent, his mind focused.

He knew his crew was handling things below.

His job was to finish this.

The final door loomed ahead. Inside, the boss was waiting.

Elijah pushed it open and stepped inside.

The room was dimly lit, a single lamp casting long shadows.

A man sat behind a desk, casually sipping a glass of whiskey.

He looked up and smiled. "So, you’re the one causing all this trouble."

Elijah’s red eyes glowed in the darkness. "And you’re the one who’s about to lose everything."

The boss chuckled, setting down his glass. "We’ll see about that."