My Pro Boxer System

[Cassian's POV]

My mind was swimming. Hitting this guy in the face became an itch I needed to scratch. In truth, my body ached all over, but I felt none of that. I didn't even realize the round was over until Captain Lucian stepped into the ring and pulled me into the corner.

They forcefully set me down on a small chair and wiped the sweat from my face. The white rag they used was smeared with blood; that's when I realized I was bleeding.

Liam was standing in his corner of the ring. No one even bothered to check on him. It was an insult; they all knew I hadn't managed to land a punch on him.

"You got this, Cassian! You just need to draw him into a close-range brawl, and you can pummel that son of a bitch," my friend Damon said. He was a year older than me and one of the upperclassmen I respected the most.

"That won't work," Ken interjected. He was always the level-headed one, standing off to the side with his arms folded. "He's been targeting your right eye to create a blind spot in your vision. That's how he's able to dodge most of your punches. And all that taunting is to rile you up so you don't notice."

"That bastard!" Damon balled his fists in anger. "I would never accept a coward like that as part of the club."

"Even if we bandage the wound and clean the cut, he will still reopen it again," Ken continued. "You need to properly guard yourself and stop charging in like a loose cannon."

"I'll be fine!" My voice was hoarse and ragged from all my heavy breathing. I was out of breath, and he… he looked perfectly fine, as if he were just warming up.

He had hopped around the ring like a damn monkey for the full two minutes, and now he looked like he wasn't even phased. Since the round ended, his eyes had never left me. Where did this sudden confidence come from? Before the match, he looked like he was just about ready to throw up. I remember pitying him and now...

Was it all an act to get me to drop my guard against him?

That bastard!

My breathing was noisy as I muttered curses under my breath.

"You need to calm yourself, Cassian."

Ken was right, but still… it was hard to keep a level head with him over there taunting me. I decided to close my eyes instead of focusing on him. My breathing slowed, and so did my heart rate as I concentrated on nothing.

The coach would have scolded me if he saw me right now. He would have bonked me on the head and told me I was being an idiot. I still remembered how he brought me into boxing—how I was just a punk kid with too much anger, and he took me in and introduced me to something I've grown to love.

He introduced me to people I've grown to love. Everyone here has become family to me. For their sake, I would have to win. I can't imagine my life without these knuckleheads.

"It's time." Captain Lucian's voice was as cold as always.

He didn't need to elaborate any further; I immediately got up from my seat, and so did he.

I took my guard with both fists up to my chin as I marched to the center of the ring. Liam, however, stayed with his back just inches away from the ropes. It was now blatantly obvious; he wanted me to press him.

To hell with his games. Unlike Ken, I wasn't one to think too deeply about things, especially boxing. Boxing was about raw power and throwing punches at just the right angle to make your opponents suffer. It didn't require much reasoning or thinking; that's why I liked it.

If only I could get him into a brawl, then this match would be over in seconds. I slowly crept my way over to him, my feet firm on the ground just like the coach taught me. I threw a straight punch at his midsection.

He leaned back, so my fist was just short enough not to catch him. I didn't let up; I threw every combination I knew at him: a straight punch, a left hook followed by a right hook, and then an uppercut—an attack from below meant to catch him off guard.

But he ducked and rolled through all of them. My stomach hardened as I focused on this single bug in front of me that refused to be squashed. I had him against the ropes, yet still my punches refused to connect, and before I knew it, he slipped past me.

My suspicion grew; I was starting to think he had wheels underneath his shoes. Such movements were unnatural. No one in the club fought like this. He kept on his toes, rhythmically bouncing in place.

His right hand raised to deliver a punch. I instinctively prepared to block, which was when I felt a sharp pain in my side that seemed to spread through my whole body. His left hand struck me with such quick speed that it left me bewildered.

It was a feint. He moved to attack with his right fist but instead struck with his left in the same instant. A smug smile rose on his face as I tried to figure out what had happened. No, it wasn't that simple.

"Can't keep up," he jested, pouting out his lip.

I was still bewildered from his earlier attack. Every move he made screamed he was going to attack with his right, from the twitching of his eyes to the shifting of his hips. It was impossible for someone to shift their movements so fluidly without leaving themselves open for a counterattack, and yet he did it.

My mind swirled as I pressed him, throwing straight jabs aimed at his jaw. He kicked off with his rear foot and retreated while landing another punch that smacked my eyebrow. Warm liquid trailed its way down my face.

I ignored it. I ignored it all. I gritted my teeth, letting out a loud grunt before I charged at him again. I wanted him to pay. I was sick of his games. I wanted to climb on top of him and punch him until his body went limp.

I chased him around the ring like a predator, shrugging off every hit he managed to land. I took all his punishment without throwing any punches of my own. I bided my time, walking him down around the ring as I watched and waited for the perfect attack.

I allowed him to punch me as much as he liked while I guided him to where I needed him to be.

The opportunity arrived, and with a burst of power, I kicked off the ground and charged at him. He barely escaped the attack, stumbling over his own feet. A look of terror flashed in his eyes as the realization sank in.

He was trapped.

There was no way for him to escape. I bided my time and led him to the corner of the ring.

My muscles burned with anticipation. My fist was clenched so tightly that my nails dug into my skin. My fist crackled through the air with a smooth swoosh as I threw a perfectly aimed right hook.

He couldn't dodge at such close proximity; it was all but impossible. In a last-ditch effort, he lowered his body and entangled his rear foot with my lead foot. He twisted around my punch like an anaconda.

A cold sweat trailed down my face.

In one fluid motion, he was behind me, and before I had time to process it, the world around me went black as my vision morphed into a mass of blurs. I staggered around the ring, grasping for the ropes to keep my balance, but before I found them, a sharp pain exploded in my stomach.

My knees crumbled as the sound of my head hitting the ground echoed through the room. As my head lay on the floor of the ring, I saw the pixelated image of a bald-headed old man at ringside.

How could I have failed to see him before?

A lump formed in my throat as I stared back at the old man. I held on to my consciousness for as long as I could until my mind slowly drifted away into a black void, along with my place among the people I cared for.

"I failed."