My Pro Boxer System

My eyes widened as I stared at the screen in front of me.

"This can't be real—"

My words were cut short as a punch whistled past my ears. In that split second as I was distracted by the system notification, Cassian charged at me, throwing a flurry of punches.

I stumbled over my feet, trying to evade them all. With each punch he threw, he left himself open, so I buried my fist into his stomach. He let out a low grunt before I followed up with another blow that hit him square in the jaw.

He staggered back, holding onto the ropes for support. A series of loud gasps erupted in the room, but I paid them no mind and focused my attention on Cassian.

I pressed him, sliding through the ring like a skater on ice. He held his jaw with his back partially turned to me. My eyes immediately locked onto his lower back, the spot where his kidney was supposed to be.

My glove sang when it struck him in that tender area.

"AARRGG!"

He cried out like a wounded animal before turning to me with fury burning brightly in his eyes. My body felt weightless; I was hopping around the ring, taunting him with every move I made. My thoughts drifted as if nothing else mattered—nothing but this fight.

"You bastard! Just you wait!" he spat.

Cassian's power was extraordinary. His fists whistled through the air like a flute. One punch was all it would take for him to win and for me to lose everything.

I circled around his lead hand like a shark, making sure a direct line of attack was all but impossible for him. The tension in the air was thick; I could feel his frustration growing as he slowly crept closer to me, inch by inch.

I purposely let him get in close, rolling under his punches and landing strategic jabs to his unguarded areas. Every jab threw him off his rhythm, making him sloppy. Hitting his body felt like striking concrete, and he shrugged off every blow as if it were nothing.

He lowered his head and absorbed every blow while charging at me like a bull. He was a head taller than me, with arms like tree trunks. With just a few steps, he could close the gap between us and strike from afar.

He was slowly pressing me against the ropes, but still, a calmness washed over me. His fist came in fast, aiming for the bridge of my nose. I shifted onto my back foot; his jab snapped, creating a small gust of wind as his punch brushed against my cheek.

I snapped my own jab, kissing his nose lightly and quickly before he could even react. He gritted his teeth, his irritation evident as he growled at me, throwing a series of blows aimed at my lower body.

I ducked and weaved through every one of his punches as I braced myself against the ropes, using them to spring my movements. His punches widened, allowing me to slip through his arms. I shifted my weight to my rear foot and rotated my hips to land a perfectly placed right hook to the side of his head.

The force jolted his hands up to his face in a block. That single move created another opening and like a wolf I lunged at the bait, targeting his abdomen. My eyes locked onto where his solar plexus was before I buried my fist there. A sickening gulp escaped his lips as my fist plunged into the softness between his ribs.

I begun wailed on him. Air abandoned his lungs as surging pain coursed through his abdomen. He slumped over, guarding himself as my fist beat away at him. He was like a turtle in a shell, desperately trying to defend against the predator gnawing away at him.

He cursed under his breath, his feet firm on the floor. In that moment, I saw his hips twist and his muscles tighten.

I glided back just in time before his fist crackled through the air, snapping at my face. A cocky smile rose on my lips as I retreated. I needed him angry—so angry that he couldn't recognize the idiocy of his own fighting.

His face scrunched up as fury burned in his eyes. That's what I wanted. My coach drilled it into my head countless times that anger was a weakness inside the ring. In fact, I would get a round of beatings every time I showed the slightest frustration. I needed to draw him out more.

"You're not fit to be a boxer; you're too stupid," I mocked. "What kind of infighter can't even throw a punch?"

My guard dropped as I laid myself out like meat waiting to be devoured.

"Just you wait!" he roared. "I'll shut you the fuck up!"

He charged like a bull, and like a bullfighter, I pivoted out of his way, my guard still dropped as I weaved through his punches, bobbing my head back and forth in a circular motion. He tried to smash himself against me, putting me in a chest-to-chest fight, but with proper footwork, I circled around him effortlessly.

I danced around him as if I were merely playing a game, our bodies almost touching before I disappeared in the same instant, leaving him punching at air.

"You can't even hit someone so close to you. You should just give up on boxing."

"What is this?" a member of the club shouted from outside the ring. "We don't want this loser in our club. He keeps trash-talking and then running like a coward. Fight like a man!"

"Boxing isn't all about brute strength. He's fighting with his own skill," another member came to my defense.

Frankly, I couldn't care less what they thought of me. I would win in my own way, with my own strategy. From the moment the fight began, Lucian's eyes never left me. There were two of us in the ring, but it seemed he didn't even notice Cassian.

Cassian charged again, his agitation growing further from the whispers outside the ring. He loved boxing; it was evident in everything he did, but for my own satisfaction, I would rip it away from him without a second thought.

For my own selfishness, I would do whatever it took to win. I controlled him like a puppet on a string. From the moment the match began, I targeted his left eye, creating a blind spot I could exploit whenever I wanted. His left eye was partially swollen, with a cut above his eyebrow that smeared blood into his eye.

For all my footwork, that was the only way I managed to keep dodging his punches, as all the blows from his left side were always sloppy and often off target. With this advantage I gave myself, I would continue to dance through his punches, and pick away at his body until eventually his knees collapsed.