Lust Meter System: Conquering Beauties-Chapter 77: Everythig On The Line 1

The room had changed.

What was once an empty space with just a handful of men lounging on worn couches had transformed into something else entirely.

People poured in from the front door and back door Liam hadn’t noticed before, tucked behind one of the sagging couches.

They came in groups of two and three, filling the space along the walls, crowding into the corners, standing shoulder to shoulder.

Men mostly.

Some wore tank tops that showed off tattooed arms—skulls, snakes, names of people who might be dead or locked up.

Others wore hoodies and jeans, their hands shoved into pockets, their eyes sharp and watchful.

One guy had a gold chain thick enough to use as a bike lock.

Another had scars running across his knuckles like tally marks.

The crowd pressed closer, forming a rough circle around the open space in the center of the room.

The air grew warmer, thicker, filled with the smell of sweat, cologne, and cigarette smoke that clung to clothes and skin.

Voices murmured, low and expectant.

Someone laughed.

Someone else cursed under their breath.

Money changed hands in the back—crumpled bills passing between fingers, bets being placed.

Liam stood near the center, his hands loose at his sides.

His eyes moved over the crowd, taking in the faces, the positions, the exits.

Tasha stood at the front of the crowd, her arms crossed tightly, her cap pulled low. Her eyes were locked on Liam, tracking every movement. Worry flickered in her gaze.

Davies stood beside her, pale and tense, his arms crossed tightly over his chest like he was trying to make himself smaller.

Shay stood across from Liam, about ten feet away, his hands still in his pockets.

His smile hadn’t faded. If anything, it had grown wider, more confident.

He looked completely at ease, like this was just another Tuesday for him.

"You know," Shay said, his voice carrying easily over the murmur of the crowd, "you still got time to back out. Walk away. Keep your money, keep your pride. No shame in realizing you bit off more than you can chew."

’Yeah, like you’re just going to let me walk’

Liam met his gaze. "I’m good."

Shay tilted his head, studying him.

"Yeah? You sure about that? Because once we start, there’s no stopping. You don’t tap out. You don’t quit. You go until one of us can’t stand anymore." He paused, his smile sharpening. "And when I’m done with you, that pretty face of yours is gonna look a whole lot different. Might knock out a few teeth. Might break that nose. Might crack a rib or two. You cool with that?"

He met Shay’s eyes, his voice coming out harder than before. "I said I’m good. Let’s get this over with."

’Not planning on letting him get that far anyway.’

But even as he thought it, another idea crept in, quieter, more deliberate.

’I could use Point-Bound Might. End this in seconds. One punch. Maybe two. He wouldn’t even see it coming.’

His fingers flexed slightly at his sides.

’But what’s the rush?’

His eyes moved over Shay again, noting the way he stood, the confidence in his posture, the way his weight was balanced evenly on both feet.

’This could be useful. A real test for the other skill. Might as well see what it can do.’

He focused inward, just for a moment.

Liam inhaled slowly, then exhaled.

"Activate, Breathless step" he said quietly, the word barely a whisper.

A faint shimmer appeared in his vision, invisible to everyone else. A timer materialized in the upper right corner of his sight, glowing faintly.

[15:00]

[14:59]

[14:58]

The countdown began.

Shay pulled his hands from his pockets and turned toward the crowd. "Yo, Marcos! Bring me the twins."

A man near the back of the crowd—tall, with a shaved head and a thick beard—nodded and disappeared through the crowd.

A moment later, he returned, carrying a black briefcase.

He walked over to Shay and set the briefcase on the card table, flipping the latches open with two sharp clicks.

Shay reached inside and pulled out two brass knuckles, each one heavy and solid, the metal gleaming dully under the yellow light.

He held them up, one in each hand, and the crowd murmured appreciatively. Someone whistled. Someone else clapped.

Shay slipped the first one onto his right hand, flexing his fingers, then did the same with his left.

The brass knuckles fit snugly, the metal wrapping around his knuckles and extending down over the back of his hands.

He flexed both hands, rolling his shoulders, then looked at Liam with that same predatory grin.

"Hope you got good dental insurance, kid," Shay said, tapping the brass knuckles together with a sharp metallic clink. "Because I’m about to knock every one of those pretty whites out of your mouth."

Liam’s hand moved instinctively to his jaw, his fingers brushing against the line of his teeth through his skin.

He looked at Shay, at the brass knuckles, at the way the light reflected off the metal.

’Alright,’ Liam thought. ’I’m starting to think this wasn’t my best idea.’

Shay rolled his neck, the joints popping audibly, then took a step forward. "Let’s go."

The crowd pressed closer, the circle tightening. The murmur grew louder, more excited.

Shay moved first.

He came in fast, his right fist swinging in a wide arc aimed at Liam’s jaw.

The brass knuckles caught the light, flashing as they cut through the air.

Liam held his breath.

His body moved before his mind fully processed the threat.

His head snapped to the left, his torso twisting, the hook missing his jaw by less than an inch. He felt the displacement of air against his cheek, the heat of the near-miss.

’That’s it. That’s the skill.’

His body had reacted a fraction of a second faster than it should have, smoother than conscious thought could manage.

The held breath created a window where instinct took over completely.

Shay didn’t pause.

His left fist came up immediately, a sharp jab aimed at Liam’s ribs.

Liam exhaled and pivoted on his left foot, his body turning, his right side pulling away.

The jab grazed his shirt but didn’t connect with flesh.

He countered fast.

A straight left toward Shay’s face, his knuckles aimed at the bridge of the nose.

Shay’s right forearm came up, blocking the punch cleanly. The brass knuckles scraped against Liam’s knuckles with a harsh, metallic scrape.

Liam pulled back, resetting.

’He blocked it.’

Shay grinned. "Not bad."

The crowd’s voices rose.

Liam came in again, trying a different angle.

He feinted with his left hand toward Shay’s face, then dropped low, throwing a right hook aimed at Shay’s ribs on the left side.

Shay’s left elbow dropped instantly, his forearm pressed tight against his ribs.

The punch landed against his arm with a dull thud, absorbed completely.

’Blocked again.’

Liam didn’t stop. He shifted his weight and threw a left uppercut aimed at Shay’s solar plexus, trying to come up through the center.

Shay’s right hand came down, his forearm angling across his body, catching the uppercut before it could reach his chest.

Liam stepped back, his eyes narrowing.

’He’s covering everything.’

Shay pressed forward, throwing a right cross aimed at Liam’s temple.

Liam held his breath and his head slipped to the right, the punch missing.

Shay followed immediately with a left hook to the body.

Liam twisted his torso, pulling his left side back. The hook grazed his shirt.

He countered with a right straight aimed at Shay’s chin.

Shay’s left forearm came up vertically, blocking the punch, the brass knuckles deflecting it upward.

They separated, circling.

’He blocks everything too fast. Can’t land a clean hit like this.’

The timer ticked down.

[13:01]

[13:00]

Liam changed tactics.

He dropped his stance lower and threw a low kick with his right leg aimed at Shay’s right thigh, just above the knee.

Shay’s right leg shifted back slightly, his knee bending, pulling the target out of range. The kick connected but only grazed the muscle without real impact.

Liam tried the left side immediately, throwing a left hook at Shay’s left thigh.

Shay shifted his weight, his left leg pulling back, his left forearm sweeping down to deflect the punch.

Liam came up fast, his right leg snapping up in a front kick aimed at Shay’s chin while he was still adjusting from the low attack.

Shay’s hands came together in front of his face, both forearms crossing, catching Liam’s shin between them and stopping the kick cold.

The crowd roared.

"He can’t find nothing! Iron Man’s got everything covered!"

Liam stepped back, his jaw tightening.

’High, low, left, right—doesn’t matter. He’s blocking everything.’

Shay’s grin widened. "Starting to see it now, aren’t you? Doesn’t matter where you aim, kid. I’ve been in more fights than you’ve had birthdays. I know every trick, every angle, every setup. You’re not gonna find anything I’m not ready for."

Liam didn’t respond. His breathing was controlled, his mind working through options.

’There has to be something. A pattern. A tell. Something he’s doing that I can exploit.’

Shay came in again, and this time his approach was different.

He threw a right jab—not fully committed, just testing.

Liam held his breath and slipped it, his head moving left.

Shay’s left hand followed with a hook, faster than before, aimed at where Liam’s head was moving.

’Shit—’

Liam’s body reacted, dropping low, the hook passing over his head.

’He adjusted. He’s watching how I move and throwing where I’m going to be, not where I am.’

Shay didn’t give him time to think. He threw a right uppercut aimed at Liam’s chin as he came back up.

Liam twisted his head to the side, the uppercut missing by inches.

He threw a left hook at Shay’s jaw.

Shay’s right forearm came up, blocking.

Liam followed with a right straight at Shay’s nose.

Shay’s left hand came up, palm open, catching Liam’s wrist and pushing it aside.

Liam tried a left hook to the body.

Shay’s right elbow dropped, covering his ribs.

They separated, both breathing harder.

The timer continued.

[10:45]

[10:44]

Shay’s movements were getting faster, more precise. Every time Liam tried something, Shay’s counters became sharper, his timing better.

’He’s not just blocking anymore.’

Shay came in again, throwing a combination—left jab, right cross, left hook—all aimed at Liam’s head, each punch coming faster than the last.

Liam held his breath and moved.

His head slipped right, then left, then ducked low. All three punches missed, but barely. He could feel Shay getting closer, the timing tightening.

He countered with a right hook aimed at Shay’s temple.

Shay’s left forearm came up, blocking, but he didn’t just block—he stepped in closer, closing the distance, cutting off Liam’s space.

Shay threw a left uppercut aimed at Liam’s body, fast and tight.

Liam twisted, his abs tightening, the punch grazing his ribs.

Shay followed with a right hook aimed at Liam’s jaw.

’Shit, it’s too fast’