Chapter 2: Iron Cage Brawl with Wolverine

"Hit him! Hit him!" The crowd roared as Erik and Wolverine faced off for the first time.

No tricks—Wolverine lunged forward, swinging a heavy fist straight at Erik's face.

Testing his opponent, Erik didn't dodge. Instead, he raised his elbow and deflected the punch. He had planned to counter immediately, but as soon as their arms clashed, he abandoned the idea. Despite being slightly smaller than the burly Will, Wolverine packed an incredible amount of strength. Though neither of them was using their full power, the impact sent a sharp pain through Erik's arm, forcing him back a step.

Realizing he had the advantage, Wolverine smirked and pressed forward with relentless attacks. Within moments, he dominated the fight, chasing Erik around the cage. The one-sided spectacle quickly bored the audience, drawing groans of disappointment.

"Wolverine is in top form tonight! Maybe we should start placing bets on how long the foreign naked guy can last—one minute? Thirty seconds? Personally, I think he'll be down and out in no time!" The announcer's mocking tone echoed the general sentiment of the crowd.

"You've got terrible judgment. The show's over." Even while dodging, Erik found time to throw a jab at the commentator.

In those brief exchanges, Erik had already figured out Wolverine's fighting style. The man looked fierce, his bronzed muscles rippling with raw power, but he relied entirely on brute strength. His technique was barely better than a street brawler's—his punches were straightforward and predictable. It looked like Erik was struggling, but in reality, he was never in any real danger.

Some of the more experienced spectators began to notice as well. Aside from the initial clash, Wolverine hadn't landed a single hit. Every time his fists came close, Erik would slip away at the last second, leaving him swinging at empty air.

"You gonna run forever?" Wolverine growled in frustration.

"Nope." Erik answered honestly—then, seizing the brief distraction, he delivered a sharp side kick to Wolverine's leg. The impact staggered him.

"Now it's your turn to run." Taking advantage of the opening, Erik surged forward, unleashing a rapid combination of punches to Wolverine's head. The flurry of blows sent him crashing to the ground.

"Beautiful!"

"Well done, naked guy!"

The crowd erupted. The underdog had turned the tables, toppling the reigning champion. The audience, initially indifferent to Erik, suddenly came alive with excitement.

"I'm not naked," Erik muttered to himself. But with no one to hear his complaints, he vented his frustration on his opponent instead.

Most people hadn't bet on Erik, but Wolverine had cost too many gamblers too much money. Now that he was losing, the pent-up resentment exploded into loud cheers.

And the best was yet to come.

Erik was about to give them a lesson in true technical fighting.

He began dismantling Wolverine with precision, using every trick in the book to send him crashing to the floor. The once-invincible champion could do nothing but endure a relentless storm of attacks. Aside from their first exchange, he never even touched Erik. Instead, he became nothing more than a battered figure in the background while Erik basked in the crowd's adoration.

The audience was ecstatic. The gamblers were even more so—if Erik won, almost no one had bet correctly, meaning the house would rake in a massive profit.

The event organizers had only one regret: they wished they could convince Erik to stay. He was a goldmine in the making.

But if they could read Erik's mind, they wouldn't be so optimistic.

Despite appearances, Erik wasn't as relaxed as he seemed.

His technique gave him the upper hand, and Wolverine was too stubborn to adjust his tactics. But no matter how many times Erik knocked him down, he just kept getting back up. Each punch and kick felt like striking solid steel. Wolverine seemed unfazed, while Erik's own limbs were starting to feel the strain.

If this were a professional boxing match, Erik would have already won on points.

But this wasn't boxing.

This was a fight against a man who refused to stay down.

Wolverine's face twisted with a savage grin. His punches grew heavier, slicing through the air with terrifying force.

Erik frowned. This was getting troublesome.

"Look, fighting like this is pointless. Why don't you surrender? I'll even split the prize money with you—ten percent." Erik tried to bargain.

"Piss off." Wolverine spat—and was promptly thrown over Erik's shoulder.

"Fine, twenty percent." Erik offered again, wincing at the effort.

"Go to hell." Another grapple, another slam. Wolverine hit the mat once more.

"Don't tell me you want half? That's just greedy."

"…" Gritting his teeth, Wolverine staggered back to his feet.

Beyond the cage, the audience roared his name, swaying and cheering with wild enthusiasm. Their faces lit up with joy, their mouths wide in laughter, their eyes crinkled in excitement. The atmosphere was electric, ready to erupt at any moment.

But the man in front of Erik didn't share in the celebration. His expression was as cold and unyielding as stone. No matter how many times he was beaten down, he always got back up.

Erik was starting to get annoyed.

A normal attack wouldn't cut it, but anything more would be excessive—this wasn't a fight to the death.

Yet if this dragged on, he might slip up and take a hit himself. That would be embarrassing.

As the battle continued, Erik became certain—Wolverine wasn't an ordinary man. From Erik's unique perspective, he could see it: a metallic aura surrounding Wolverine's body, as if he were forged from steel itself.

And then, chaos struck.

"Will, don't!" A panicked voice rang out.

Erik glanced sideways. A bloodshot-eyed, furious Will was standing outside the cage, a shotgun aimed directly at them.

There was no time to think.

Erik twisted away just as the gun fired.

A deafening blast echoed through the air. Pellets ripped through the metal bars and slammed into Wolverine's chest, leaving behind gaping wounds.

Wolverine collapsed. His fate was uncertain.

Screams erupted. The crowd scattered in blind panic.

"Well, you did take care of my opponent for me, but I wouldn't call it a favor." Erik quipped, looking toward Will.

"F*** you!" Will roared, firing again.

Blinded by rage, he was determined to turn Erik into minced meat.

Erik could have dodged. He had more than enough time.

But instead, he decided to try something new.

Something deep within him stirred.

As the shotgun fired, Erik reached out his hand—

The bullets froze midair.

Will's jaw dropped in horror. He emptied the rest of his rounds, but it was useless. Every single pellet hung in place, orbiting Erik like fireflies.

"See that?" Erik grinned. "I command metal. Before me, all steel bows."

The bullets twisted and reshaped, forming smooth, polished spheres that hovered around him like tiny planets circling a sun.

Erik closed his eyes, reveling in the sensation.

"You… You're a monster," Will stammered, stepping back in terror.

Erik opened his eyes and smiled. Just as he was about to make his move—

Wolverine shot up like a corpse revived.

"I'm going to kill you," he growled at Will.

The bullets embedded in his body popped out one by one. His wounds closed as if they had never existed.

"Yeah… definitely not normal." Erik mused.

Now, when he looked at Wolverine, he saw something new—his metallic skeleton glowing like molten silver beneath his flesh.

"Help! Somebody help me!" Will shrieked, his courage gone.

"Don't even think about running." Wolverine leaped out of the cage, claws unsheathed, chasing after his would-be killer.

Watching the chaos unfold, Erik couldn't help but chuckle.