Lord of Pain: Becoming the Crime Boss with my Pain Extraction System

"I asked you a question—who the fuck are you?" one of the goons growled, brandishing a knife at Vincent's throat.

"I stay in this building," Vincent replied calmly. "Is there any issue?"

The man scanned him from head to toe, brows furrowed. "No issue. We're just looking for someone."

He lowered the knife and allowed Vincent to pass, but Vincent wasn't entirely pleased with this.

'What a shame. I was hoping things would get interesting…'

He stepped out into the sunlight before one of the other goons called out.

"Hol' up. We need some money for cigarettes. How much you got on you?"

Vincent sighed, already knowing what this was—standard shake down. He pulled out a $100 bill and handed it to the man with the very distracting hairstyle.

"Looks like you're a big spender. How much you still got left? Hand everything over."

Vincent considered it. Part of him wanted to avoid trouble—but then he remembered he wasn't the same scared weakling anymore. He was slightly bigger than them. And while they had knives, he had something better.

"Who did you say you were looking for again?"

The goon with the weird hair shot him a glare. "Mind your business, dumbass. Hand everything over before I dice you up."

He flicked open a butterfly knife, but Vincent remained composed.

"I was just thinking maybe I could help. I ran into your friends earlier—"

"Hey, doesn't this guy match the description?" the first goon cut in.

"Yeah… he kinda does," the weird-haired one replied, eyeing Vincent suspiciously.

"Let's keep him here until the officers come back," the first goon suggested.

Vincent chuckled. "I don't think they'll be coming back anytime soon. They ran into a little trouble when they came to my house."

"What did you just say?"

"This guy must be crazy. Hey, dumbass—do you have a death wish?"

Vincent didn't respond. He was weighing his options. Three guys, all armed. And

dangerous. The only way to win was to take one of them out before the fight started. He had to strike first—and whoever the unlucky victim was, he shouldn't be getting back up. The first rule of fighting he learned in prison.

As if on cue, one of the goons stepped forward.

"Hey! I asked you a fucking question. You ignoring me means you really want to die—"

Vincent's fist shot out, cracking the man's jaw and dropping him instantly.

[Severe pain extracted +41 points]

He hadn't held back, and his hand also paid the price.

[Mild pain extracted +12 points]

"Ouch… seems like I used too much strength." He wriggled his fingers, amused by his own strength.

"Huh?" The remaining two goons were visibly shaken.

Vincent flexed his fist, "Put 40 points in Endurance. That way I won't have to worry about hurting myself."

[Sure thing]

The slight pain vanished almost instantly. "That's better."

"You'll pay for that!" The second goon charged.

Vincent didn't let him get close—one powerful kick shattered his ribs and sent him flying.

[Severe pain extracted +50 points]

Now only the weird-haired goon remained. He hesitated, intimidated, but then smirked and twirled his knife.

"So you really are our guy. You're gonna regret messing with us."

He lunged with a wild swing, but Vincent ducked effortlessly. The goon couldn't believe how fast he was. Vincent dodged each strike that followed with ease, then landed a crushing uppercut that launched him a few meters into the air.

[Severe pain extracted +43 points]

"Huff… huff…" Vincent panted. Just that brief fight had drained him.

"As I've grown stronger and faster, my body uses up more energy," he noticed. "I'll need to increase my stamina."

Still, that was easier than expected.

Just then, a black Rold-Royce Spectre pulled up beside him. Seeing its tinted windows, Vincent grew cautious. Whoever was inside this car had money—and power.

When the door opened and Don Angel stepped out, Vincent instinctively took a step back—only to bump into Gutter. His once-white shirt was now soaked in blood, a mix of his own and the men he had just fought.

"How many men did they send?" the boss asked, ignoring Vincent completely.

"Thirteen, plus two police officers," Gutter replied.

"So with these three, that's sixteen," Angel nodded.

All the while, Crazy Jay stood silently, glaring at Vincent and scanning him from head to toe. The attention made Vincent uneasy. He knew how dangerous these men were. Jay, especially—he wasn't called "crazy" for nothing.

"Get in the car," Jay ordered.

Vincent hesitated. "Why? Where are we going?"

"He said get in the fucking car," Gutter growled, towering over him.

Vincent didn't move. He wasn't defenseless anymore—he wouldn't be intimidated so easily.

'They don't know what they've just gotten themselves into. First, I take out Gutter. Then I'll deal with the boss and Crazy Jay… when outnumbered, always strike first.'

With that thought, Vincent launched a surprise punch at Gutter, pouring all his strength into the blow—and landed it clean on the jaw.

[Mild pain extracted +15 points]

'Mild pain?'

"Looks like you're far too excited you little rat," Gutter remarked in a dark tone. The attack had only left a small bruise on his face.

Without warning, he countered—burying his fist into Vincent's gut.

[Severe pain extracted +57 points]

Vincent collapsed, clutching his stomach, gasping in agony. It felt like his insides had been rearranged by a sledgehammer.

'How… is he… so… strong…?' he coughed blood.

It was like the points he had spent on Endurance didn't even matter.

'No… if I hadn't spent any, how much worse would this have been…?' he wondered, as pain swallowed him whole.

'Just how strong are these guys?' his final thoughts drifted by just before he passed out.