As A Mafia Boss, I Refuse To Be An Extra-Chapter 91: Fighting Victor I

The central training grounds were still buzzing with energy and shock when Damian arrived.

The crowd parted instinctively as he walked through, students stepping back to create a clear path without even realizing they were doing it.

His presence alone commanded space.

Damian surveyed the scene with calm crimson eyes, taking in the victorious Mafia members scattered across various rings, the defeated Nobles being helped away by friends, and the absolutely stunned expressions on hundreds of watching faces.

He pulled out his watch and sent a quick message.

To: Professor Seraphina Vale Need you at the central training grounds. Going to need an official host for a challenge match. Bring coffee if you want, this might be entertaining.

Then he walked toward the largest combat ring in the center of the grounds and stepped onto the raised platform.

He said nothing. Just stood there silently, hands in his pockets, waiting.

Edrin noticed him first and immediately started gathering the other Mafia members.

"Boss is here. Everyone, form up."

Within seconds, all thirty-two Mafia students had assembled and were making their way toward the central ring.

Damian watched them approach with a slight smile.

"You all did well. Better than well, actually. I’m impressed."

His voice was quiet but carried genuine approval.

Edrin adjusted his glasses, unable to hide his satisfied expression.

"After all that you have done for us, Boss. This much is the minimum we can do. If we still didn’t manage to get a good result then we would have embarrassed you. But the results speak for themselves."

"They certainly do."

Ronan grinned widely, still riding the high of his victory.

"Did you see me catch that whip, Boss? Quin’s face was priceless!"

"I heard about it. It was very dramatic."

Lysa smiled softly, exhaustion visible in her eyes but satisfaction in her expression.

"We wanted to prove that the Mafia isn’t just you. That we can stand on our own."

"And you proved exactly that."

Damian’s eyes swept across all of them.

"Now get behind me. We’re not done making statements today."

Without hesitation, all thirty-two Mafia members moved to stand in formation behind Damian on the raised platform.

The image was powerful and striking.

One figure standing at the front, calm and confident, with his loyal soldiers arrayed behind him like an army.

The crowd’s murmuring grew louder as more students continued arriving, word spreading rapidly that something else was about to happen.

****

Professor Seraphina Vale arrived fifteen minutes later, looking as disheveled and lazy as always.

Her violet eyes were half-closed, her white coat wrinkled, and she was indeed carrying a large cup of coffee.

But there was a subtle smile playing at her lips as she took in the scene.

’This kid. He really doesn’t do anything halfway, does he?’

She’d received multiple messages from her Noble family over the past day, demanding she stop providing guidance to Damian immediately.

Her response had been characteristically direct: a simple "fuck off" followed by blocking their contact information entirely.

Not that it mattered much anyway. Damian had already learned everything she’d planned to teach him about Aura control.

The kid was a monster who absorbed techniques faster than she could explain them.

"Damian."

She called out as she approached the ring, taking a long sip of coffee.

"I assume you need me to officiate something?"

"There is a challenge match. Me versus Victor Cross. It should be quick though."

"The second-year’s top student? He’s C rank."

"I’m aware."

Seraphina studied him for a moment, then shrugged.

"Your funeral then. When’s he arriving?"

"Soon. He’s bringing the Student Council as witnesses."

As if summoned by those words, Victor Cross appeared at the edge of the training grounds with the entire Student Council in tow.

Victor had apparently spread word about the match, because the crowd was now massive. Easily over a thousand students packed into the available space.

Everyone wanted to witness this.

A first-year challenging a second-year Imperial heir? It was unprecedented.

Victor walked toward the ring with his usual confidence, though it looked slightly forced after the news about the Mafia’s sweep through the rankings.

Micheal, Adrian, Elizabeth, Gareth, Arielle, Naomi, Liam, and the other council members followed behind him, their expressions varying from concern to curiosity to resignation.

"Damian Valcor!"

Victor’s voice carried across the training grounds.

"I see you’ve gathered an audience for your humiliation. How thoughtful."

Damian said nothing, his expression completely neutral.

"You realize the gap between D rank and C rank is substantial, right? Your little victories against first-years mean nothing against someone with real combat experience."

Still silence from Damian. 𝘧𝓇ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝘣𝓃ℴ𝓋𝑒𝑙.𝑐𝘰𝑚

Victor’s confident expression flickered with irritation at being ignored.

"Even your ragtag group of commoners getting lucky in their matches doesn’t change the fundamental reality. Resources and training matter more than you all think. And I have far more of both than–"

Damian waved one hand slightly.

And all thirty-two Mafia members immediately turned in perfect unison and walked off the platform, descending to stand at ground level.

The synchronized movement was flawless, creating a powerful image.

The crowd went completely silent, recognizing they were about to witness something significant.

Damian turned his gaze to Seraphina and gave a slight nod.

She sighed and stepped forward, setting her coffee down carefully on a nearby bench.

"Alright, children. This is an official sanctioned challenge match between Victor Cross, second-year C rank, and Damian Valcor, first-year D+ rank."

Her voice carried easily across the grounds despite her lazy tone.

"Standard combat rules apply for the match. It ends by knockout, surrender, or when I decide someone’s about to die and I feel like stopping it. Medical teams are on standby."

She looked between both fighters.

"Any questions? No? Good. Take your positions."

Victor entered the ring from one side, rolling his shoulders and loosening up.

Damian simply stood where he was, not bothering with any preparation.

Seraphina raised her hand.

"Begin!"

****

Victor immediately charged forward, his C rank speed making him a blur.

His fist came at Damian’s face with tremendous force, brown Aura coating his knuckles.

Damian tilted his head slightly.

The punch missed by a hair’s breadth.

His counter came instantly, a straight jab aimed at Victor’s ribs.

Victor blocked with his forearm, but the impact still pushed him back a step.

’He’s faster than the reports suggested.’

They exchanged blows rapidly, neither using weapons yet, just pure hand-to-hand combat.

Victor’s technique was polished, refined through years of formal training. Each strike was textbook perfect, each defense optimal.

Damian’s style was rawer, more practical, but devastatingly effective.

CRACK. CRACK. CRACK.

Fists and elbows and knees collided with brutal efficiency.

Victor landed a solid hit on Damian’s shoulder.

Damian responded by catching Victor’s next punch and delivering a headbutt that split Victor’s eyebrow open.

Blood ran down Victor’s face as they separated briefly.

"Not bad for a first-year. But let’s increase the intensity."

Victor’s brown Aura exploded outward, coating his entire body in a dense protective layer.

His next punch carried significantly more force, the Aura amplifying his natural strength.

Damian’s own dark crimson Aura flared in response.

The exchange became faster, harder, more violent.

BOOM BOOM BOOM

Each impact created shockwaves that the crowd could feel from dozens of meters away.

Victor’s spinning kick caught Damian in the side, cracking a rib.

Damian’s palm strike to Victor’s chest sent him sliding backward, leaving trails in the platform.

They were both breathing harder now, both bleeding from various cuts and bruises.

"You’re tougher than I expected."

Victor admitted, wiping blood from his mouth.

"But raw toughness won’t save you."

He pulled out his weapon: a short sword with intricate engravings along the blade, clearly a family heirloom worth a fortune.

Brown Aura condensed around the weapon, making it glow with power.

"Earth Splitter Style: First Form!"

Victor’s sword came down in a devastating vertical slash.

The Aura-enhanced blade created a shockwave that carved a line in the platform.

Damian dodged, but barely. The attack had been significantly faster than anything Victor had shown before.

"Where’s your gun, Valcor? Or are you planning to fight barehanded against a blade?"

Victor’s mocking smile returned.

"Maybe you’re just scared to–"

Damian waved his hand casually and cracked his neck to both sides.

A spatial ripple appeared beside him, and his weapon materialized.

The massive battle axe with its obsidian handle and dual crescent blades appeared in his grip, the circular hole in the primary blade already humming slightly from the movement.

Complete silence fell across the entire training grounds.

"He has a melee weapon?"

"Since when does Damian use an axe?"

"I thought he was just a marksman with Omega Point!"

Among the Student Council members watching, Gareth and Arielle’s faces went pale.

They exchanged a glance, both thinking the same thing about the past.

They’d had a classmate, a friend, who’d learned an axe-type weapon art by training in that same forest behind the Academy.

He’d been talented, promising, destined for great things.

Until his first real battlefield deployment, when his belief wavered for just a moment against a horde of Monsters.

The weapon art that required absolute conviction had failed him.

They’d found pieces of his body scattered across a hundred meters.

"That axe..."

Arielle’s voice was barely a whisper.

"He can’t really be learning that art, right? I thought he might have given up by now.

Nobody should be learning that art. It’s too dangerous, too unstable."

Damian hefted the axe experimentally, adjusting his grip.

Then he looked at Victor with those cold crimson eyes.

"Continue."