When Joe first laid eyes on old man Charles, he had felt sorry for him. The man seemed mentally broken and had been locked up for more than a decade. Sharing a cell with a fat scumbag only deepened Joe’s sympathy. An old man with a psychological illness being denied food because some asshole chose to hoard it made his blood boil. It was unfair, and it left Joe feeling guilty for not doing more to help.

  He had decided to stay close to Charles during bath time, and that proved wise. An arrogant bastard tried to pick on the old man, looking to boost his ego by preying on someone weaker. Joe stepped in. He snatched the towel back from the bully and made sure to teach him a lesson by smashing his face and dropping him onto the wet floor. It was not much, but it eased the guilt gnawing at him.

  After learning about Charles’s past and how he ended up in prison, Joe chose to stick by the geezer’s side and shield him from the other inmates. So when he heard the old man was entering the battle royal, he resolved to make it easy for him. He would let Charles step off the stage on his own without anyone laying a finger on him. It was meant to be an act of mercy.

  Instead, the old man bared his teeth for the first time.

  A powerful blow slammed into Joe and sent him sliding across the stage, nearly over the edge.

  He was surprised Charles refused his offer to forfeit peacefully, though he knew there was always a chance it would not be that simple. Charles had his reasons for entering the tournament. Like everyone else, he wanted to fight and come out victorious. Joe understood that. He would not have been as stunned if that were all it was.

  What truly shocked him was the speed and strength behind the strike. It was fast enough and strong enough to damage his Blessed Physique and launch him across the stage. That did not match the image of a frail, mentally unwell old man Joe had built in his mind. It was the opposite. He blinked several times to make sure he was not imagining it. The sting radiating through his arm confirmed it was real.

  Instead of fear, a wide grin split his face.

  “You didn’t tell me you could punch like that, old man. That was awesome!” he shouted.

  Joe was not the only one caught off guard. The inmates gathered around the stage broke their silence and began murmuring in shock.

  “Charles can’t leave and give up tournament. Charles needs Smiling Devil. Smiling Devil is nice and helps Charles forget,” the old man said, determination in his eyes as he tightened his clenched fists and adjusted his footing.

  Joe frowned. Charles relied on those drugs to cope with the trauma of losing his child in that tragic accident. They had likely accelerated the decline of his mind while turning him into an addict who depended on them to function. Joe’s chest felt heavy. In his previous life, he had seen men like Charles, shattered old men with almost nothing left to live for. Back then, he had walked past them on the street and done nothing.

  He would not repeat that mistake.

  If he truly wanted to help Charles, the first step was making sure he never got his hands on that dangerous drug again.

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  Joe clenched his fists and settled into a fighting stance.

  “Sorry, old man, but I can’t let you win. For your own good, I’ll make sure you lose today.”

  The old man gave him a cold stare. Muscles bulged beneath loose flesh as veins streaked across his skin. A deep red tint showed through his tan complexion. Joe could tell Charles’s body was packed with raw power, courtesy of the Smiling Devil he must have taken before their fight.

  Joe decided not to underestimate him. He would treat Charles like any serious opponent. In fact, he gave him the same respect he would give Steve. Like him, the old man had already proven he could damage him despite his Blessed Physique. Even so, Joe still intended to win.

  Charles crouched. His calves tensed and his abs tightened. Then he kicked off the ground and exploded forward, leaving a small crater where he had stood. Joe barely tracked the movement. He tilted his head left and saw only a blur. The old man’s fist whisked past his cheek. The force disturbed the air, releasing a blast of wind from his knuckles that slammed into one of the buildings surrounding the stage and cracked the wall on impact.

  The spectators were stunned. The inmates had always believed the old man was a defenseless weakling they could toy with. That belief shattered in an instant. With the power he was displaying, it would not be wrong to call him the second strongest fighter in the Eastern Section, just behind the King.

  Joe ranked him even higher in his own mind. He was confident Charles could beat Big Dog. That fat bastard would never have been able to pressure him like this. The only reason Big Dog still held the title was because of Charles’s illness, his addiction, and the fact that he never fought back unless the Smiling Devil was involved.

  Joe’s heart thundered at the speed of Charles’s assault. Even with his senses pushed to the limit, he had barely avoided a strike that would have shattered his skull. A bead of sweat slid down his forehead as the truth settled in. The old man was a monster.

  Charles followed with a knee to the midsection. Joe sidestepped. The strike released another blast of wind that dented a nearby building. Joe stepped back to create space, but Charles pressed forward with an elbow aimed at his face. Joe ducked, only to be met with a rising knee. He straightened and leaned back at the last second to avoid it. A kick came next. Joe crossed his arms to block. The impact cracked his bones and blasted him across the ring.

  Charles dashed forward and threw a punch at his face. Joe raised his guard, then realized too late it was a feint. A second punch slammed into his midsection. His body folded as blood sprayed from his mouth. He heard the crunch of a rib. The force drove him closer to the edge.

  In a split second, Joe made a decision. He allowed himself to reach the brink. At the last moment, he kicked off the platform and used his backward momentum to flip through the air. He landed against the wall of a prison building and used it as a springboard, launching himself back toward the ring.

  Charles’s eyes widened at his speed. He raised his arms just before Joe’s soles smashed into his guard. The impact was enormous. Charles was blasted across the ring, his bare feet carving deep grooves into the stage.

  As he neared the edge, Charles punched the platform to slow himself. His fist burrowed into the stone, grinding his momentum to a halt.

  Charles looked up just in time to see a heel descending toward his skull. He leaped back. Joe’s foot missed by a hair and crashed into the stage instead. A shockwave erupted, blasting Charles away midair. Unable to stop himself from drifting toward the border, Charles punched downward with both fists. A surge of wind exploded beneath him and launched him upward.

  He soared high, forcing every spectator to tilt their heads as if watching a massive bird take flight. Gravity took hold a few moments later. Charles descended like a meteor and crashed into the ring. An omnidirectional pulse of force tore across the stage, ripping through everything nearby. Joe was launched away, tumbling and skidding across the surface. He dug his fingers into the stone and stopped himself a few centimeters from the edge.

  He rose slowly and stared at the dust cloud where Charles had landed. A gust of wind dispersed the haze. Charles stood tall at the center of cracked earth.

  Joe’s smile widened as his heart pounded with excitement.

  ‘Yeah, I was right. That old man is the strongest in the entire East District. This is going to be fun.’