Victor's fist sliced through the air, driving straight toward Ethan's face with explosive force. Without the slightest trace of panic, Ethan tilted his head just enough for the punch to graze past him. In the same instant, he drove his knee hard into Victor's abdomen.
Thud!
Victor staggered back a single step, his expression tightening for only a brief moment before he charged forward again without hesitation.
Boom!
Their fists collided head-on, the impact echoing through the abandoned harbor. The force pushed both men a step backward. Victor rolled his shoulders before letting out a grin.
"So... the famous Kakamora isn't all hype after all."
Ethan offered no reply. His cold eyes remained fixed on Victor, emotionless and unwavering. At that moment, the Becky Gang's second-in-command slowly raised one hand.
"The rest of you..."
He swung his arm forward.
"Move in!"
More than ten gang members rushed toward Ethan's group all at once.
"Tim! Left side! Mark! Watch our rear! Kyle! Hold the right!"
The instant Ethan's orders rang out, all four of them moved simultaneously.
Bang!
Crash!
The sounds of fists, steel pipes, and iron bars colliding echoed across Harbor 17. Kyle swept two opponents off their feet with rapid strikes, but before he could recover, a third man charged from behind and kicked him hard in the back. He slammed into the side of a shipping container with a dull crash.
Meanwhile, Tim spun with incredible speed, his roundhouse kick sending one attacker sprawling across the concrete. Before he could catch his breath, however, four more men rushed him at the same time. Mark fought while keeping the tablet securely protected behind him. Unable to risk damaging it, he was gradually forced backward under the relentless pressure.
Ethan, on the other hand, continued exchanging blows with Victor while simultaneously dealing with the attackers closing in from every direction.
Boom!
Victor's heavy punch struck Ethan squarely on the shoulder. Ignoring the sharp pain, Ethan twisted his body and drove a brutal elbow directly into Victor's jaw. Victor staggered several steps backward.
"Haha... You'll need a lot more than that!"
The Becky Gang continued pouring into the battlefield wave after wave. Every time one man was knocked down, another immediately stepped forward to replace him. The numbers never seemed to decrease.
Five minutes passed.
The battle showed no sign of ending. Heavy breathing gradually filled the narrow spaces between the containers. Blood trickled from the corner of Tim's lips. Kyle had a deep bruise spreading across his arm where an iron rod had struck him. Mark had taken a powerful kick to the back, forcing him to brace himself on one knee while still gripping the tablet tightly.
Even Ethan was no longer untouched. One sleeve of his shirt had been torn open, and a long streak of blood ran across one side of his face.
"Boss..."
Tim breathed heavily.
"If this keeps going... we're not going to make it."
Without answering immediately, Ethan scanned the battlefield. The Becky Gang still had overwhelming numbers. They simply kept coming and there was no end in sight. His expression hardened.
"Fall back."
The order came instantly. Without questioning him, the four of them sprinted into the maze of shipping containers.
"After them!"
the Becky Gang's second-in-command shouted.
"Don't let Eagle Wings' right-hand man leave Harbor 17 alive today!"
A roar erupted behind them as dozens of footsteps thundered across the concrete. The four men slipped into a narrow passage between towering rows of shipping containers, finally disappearing from the gang's direct line of sight.
For the first time since the fight had begun, they had a few precious seconds to breathe. The air inside the cramped alley was thick with the metallic scent of blood. Each of them leaned against the cold steel walls, breathing heavily after the relentless battle. Mark rested one hand against the container beside him while clutching the tablet tightly against his chest.
"They still have at least thirty men left..."
he said between ragged breaths. Kyle pressed his hand firmly against his injured arm, blood staining his sleeve. Despite the pain, he forced out a helpless laugh.
"This isn't looking good..."
Tim cautiously peeked around the corner. Only a second later, his expression changed. His face turned pale.
"Boss..."
He whispered urgently.
"They're coming this way."
The sound of hurried footsteps echoed louder with every passing second. The Becky Gang was sweeping through every passage between the containers. They had no intention of letting Ethan escape.
Ethan silently wiped the blood from his cheek with the back of his hand. His breathing gradually steadied. His cold eyes showed no fear but only determination.
"...We'll fight until the end."
No one replied. If escape wasn't possible, then they would fight. Even if this place became their grave. The footsteps grew closer.
"They can't be far!"
"Search every container!"
"Don't let them get away!"
The distance between both sides continued shrinking. Tim slowly tightened his grip on the iron pipe in his hand. Kyle rolled his shoulders despite the pain shooting through his injured arm. Mark carefully placed the tablet inside his jacket before clenching his fists. Ethan took one slow breath.
The moment the Becky Gang appeared around the corner, they would strike first.
Suddenly, a distant engine roared through the silence.
Vrooom ….
The unexpected sound cut across Harbor 17 like a blade. Everyone froze, even the Becky Gang instinctively turned toward the entrance. The engine grew louder and dust rose into the air. An unfamiliar black sedan burst through the harbor entrance at high speed.
Its tires screeched violently as it drifted between rows of shipping containers before coming to a sudden stop in the center of the open yard.
Screeeech…
The harsh sound of braking echoed throughout Harbor 17. Every pair of eyes fixed on the black sedan. Inside the narrow alley, Ethan slowly lifted his gaze toward the vehicle.
His instincts immediately told him, whoever had just arrived, they had come with purpose. The driver's door slowly swung open. A young woman stepped out of the black sedan with calm, unhurried movements. She wore black jeans, a fitted white T-shirt beneath a short black jacket, and her long hair was tied neatly into a high ponytail.
There was no smile on her face. Only an icy calmness that seemed completely unaffected by the tense atmosphere surrounding her. One after another, five more people stepped out of the vehicle behind her. Their movements were disciplined, silent and professional.