"Forget it. Let's leave it at that. You're not one of the Top 10 anyway."
With that, Garou never looked at Vetto again.
It was as if Vetto before him were nothing more than a stumbling stone by the roadside.
He turned around and, under the awed gazes of the watching crowd, started walking.
He was ready to leave this disappointing dueling arena.
The crowd at the entrance and exit saw Garou approaching.
As if they had seen some prehistoric beast, they instinctively backed away to both sides.
They forcibly cleared a path for him.
Just then.
Standing at the bottom of the pit, Vetto watched Garou's proud, lonely back as it grew farther and farther away, his eyes shifting violently.
Suddenly, he shouted, "Hey! White-haired brat!"
Garou's steps paused slightly, but he did not turn back.
Vetto wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth, took a deep breath, and said in a hoarse yet bold voice:
"Compared to that Bang, I think the nickname 'Silver Fang' suits you better!"
Those words echoed inside and outside the dueling arena.
They clearly reached the ears of everyone present.
Everyone froze at first.
Then they looked at Garou's distinctive silver hair, his fierce eyes like those of a lone wolf.
And the aggressive fist technique he had displayed.
A strong sense of agreement rose in all their hearts.
Indeed.
The current Bang had black hair and black eyes, with a bearing as deep as an abyss and steady as a mountain.
But the Garou before them had silver hair like frost, his edge fully exposed.
He was practically the perfect embodiment of the words "Silver Fang."
Yet faced with Vetto's extremely high praise.
Garou did not react in the slightest.
He still had both hands in his pockets, his back