Ethan Cole - The Unlimited System

Ethan stood just inside the doorway, taking in the sight before him.

The gym wasn't what he expected.

Not even close.

It wasn't some sleek, high-tech facility with blinking machines and automated training modules. There were no voice-activated weights, no self-correcting mirrors, no AI-assisted feedback pods like the kind Nova Tech was aiming to build one day.

Instead, what he saw was… raw. Real.

The floor was wooden, worn with age and scuffed from years of use. The walls were lined with old punching bags, medicine balls, and racks of iron weights that looked older than him.

A large boxing ring stood in the center of the space like a proud relic, its ropes frayed and canvas faded. The air smelled of sweat, leather, and a faint trace of eucalyptus oil.

Ethan turned to Mark with a raised eyebrow. "Seriously? This is it?"

Mark gave a faint smile. "What were you expecting?"

"I don't know. Maybe something less… Rocky Balboa?"

"That's the point." Mark walked forward, his boots thudding softly against the wooden floor. "This place doesn't train you with comfort. It teaches you how to hurt and get hurt. No fancy tech. No shortcuts. Just you, your body, and what you're willing to do with it."

Ethan smirked, looking around again. "It's kind of cool. Feels like I stepped into a movie."

"Good," Mark said simply. "Then bleed like one."

Before Ethan could reply, a door creaked open near the back corner of the gym. It was the changing room, and out stepped Maya.

She was already dressed in her fight gear—tight-fitting black shorts and a sleeveless compression top that clung to her form like armor. Her hands were already wrapped with white tape, and her long hair was tied into a tight, practical braid.

If anything, she looked sharper than ever.

Ethan blinked. "You're early."

"I'm always early," Maya replied, her tone flat but not unfriendly. "You're just late."

She rolled her shoulders once, the muscles in her back shifting with precise control, and then stepped up onto the ring with fluid ease.

Mark nodded toward her. "You'll be sparring with her first."

Ethan looked from Mark to Maya, then back. "…You serious?"

"Dead serious," Mark said, crossing his arms. "If you can't survive a round with Maya, you won't last a second against what's coming."

Maya stood inside the ring, cracking her neck with an audible pop. "Don't worry. I won't break anything important."

Ethan let out a dry laugh, shaking his head.

"Great. This is gonna hurt, isn't it?"

Ethan stepped into the ring, bouncing lightly on his heels as he loosened his shoulders. The canvas beneath his feet was rough, the kind that burned skin if you fell the wrong way. Across from him, Maya stood with both arms relaxed, her stance casual—too casual.

She didn't look like someone about to spar.

She looked like someone who already knew how this would end.

Ethan tried to steady his breathing.

"I'm ready," he said, though part of him wasn't sure he meant it.

Maya tilted her head slightly. "Before we begin," she said, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear, "just a reminder. I'm still not using my Ascendant power."

Ethan raised an eyebrow, arms up. "You've mentioned that before. So what exactly is this… Ascendant power?"

Maya's lips curved into a small, knowing smile. "I'll tell you when you step into the realm yourself."

He blinked. "What realm?"

Her smile widened.

And then she moved.

In that split second, the air around her blurred. One moment she was standing still, the next, her figure disappeared—and Ethan barely had time to register the movement before—

CRACK!

A punch slammed straight into his gut.

The world tilted sideways as his breath was ripped from his lungs. His body shot backward like a missile, crashing into the ropes of the ring. The ropes stretched to their absolute limit, creaking and groaning, threatening to snap under the force of impact.

Ethan hung there for a breath, his feet barely touching the ground, arms dangling limp. His mouth hung open, wheezing for air.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Mark winced and called out from the edge of the ring, "Maya. Control your power. You break the ring, I'm not fixing it again."

Maya chuckled, walking slowly back to the center.

"Sorry," she said without a hint of regret. "Forgot how fragile things are when I'm holding back."

Then she glanced around the room, her eyes softer now. "This place holds memory, huh?"

Mark's expression shifted. His stern face cracked with a faint smile. "Yeah. A lot of it."

"W-W-Wait. Don't talk about memory yet." Ethan groaned and slowly peeled himself off the ropes. "What the hell was that… a punch or a teleporting truck?"

Maya gave him a look that was almost teasing. "That? That was a little intro on how an Ascendant fights."

He nearly collapsed to one knee.

"You just said you are not going to use it yet," he muttered.

"I said I haven't used it before," Maya responded playfully. "But I've used it just now."

Ethan let out a long breath and forced himself to stand. His abdomen throbbed, but it wasn't the kind of pain that made him want to stop. It was the kind that dared him to keep going.

"Alright," he muttered, rubbing his side. "Let's try that again. But maybe… not straight to the ribs this time?"

Maya grinned and slid back into stance. "Then don't stand still like a training dummy."

Ethan stepped forward cautiously, hands raised. This time, his eyes stayed on her shoulders—not her fists. He remembered what Mark had drilled into him for the past few days.

Don't chase the hands. Read the motion. Breathe. Respond.

When Maya moved, Ethan moved too.

Her jab came quick, but not invisible like before. He slipped it. His feet shuffled with better balance, and when she spun low to sweep his leg, Ethan leapt back just in time.

"Nice," Maya said, eyebrows raised.

Ethan didn't reply. He just circled her, then came in with a fast left hook. Maya caught it, redirected it—and he used that momentum to pivot and aim a knee toward her midsection. It was fast. Clean. Smart.

But Maya still blocked it with one forearm like it was nothing.

She smirked. "You're getting good."

"I have good teachers," he said through gritted teeth, trying not to show how much effort it took to match even a fraction of her movement.

They exchanged a few more blows—her fists fluid, his steps tighter now. She still outclassed him, but not like before. Not like when she had to hold back every strike just to keep him standing. Now she tested him. She moved faster, hit harder.

And he kept up—barely.

After another round of rapid punches and evasions, Maya suddenly stepped back, raising both palms in the air.

"That's enough," she said, her breathing steady. "Any more and I'll accidentally knock your jaw loose."

Ethan dropped his stance, wiping sweat from his brow. "That's your version of a compliment, right?"

Maya nodded. "The highest kind."

Mark stepped closer to the edge of the ring, arms crossed. "You've improved," he said simply. "A lot faster than I expected."

Ethan gave him a tired smile. "Well, nearly dying a few times tends to be a good motivator."

Maya laughed, tossing him a towel from the side. "Don't worry, rookie. At this rate, you might live long enough to find out what an Ascendant really is."

Ethan caught the towel, his chest still rising and falling. "I'll hold you to that."

She stepped down from the ring, heading toward the benches. "You'd better."

***

Later that evening, Harold sat on the couch with his hands tightly clasped. Julie stood nearby with her arms crossed, looking uncertain. Ethan stood across from them, his stance calm but resolute.

"Ethan," Harold began, his tone firm. "I'm grateful for everything that you've done for us. But... I can't allow this. For you to pay for my treatment this is too much for me."

Julie nodded in agreement, her brows knitted with concern. "Ethan, you've already done so much for us. Helping us with the debt, our safety, with Jessica, and now this… it feels like we're taking advantage of your kindness."

Ethan raised a hand, stopping them both.

"Don't be like that," he said, his voice steady but kind. "This isn't about favors or debts. Harold, your health is important. Not just for you, but for your family."

Harold shook his head, his jaw tightening. "I can manage. I have lived with this condition for years. I don't want to burden anyone."

"You're not a burden," Ethan said firmly but kindly. "I've already arranged everything. The consultations, the treatment. It's all set. This isn't troubling me at all. Please, let me do this."

Julie paused and looked from Ethan to her father. "Ethan, it's more than just the money. It feels like we're relying on you for everything."

Ethan smiled gently, his voice softening. "That's what friends do, right? We help each other. And trust me, this is not much."

He paused before adding, "It would mean more to me to see Harold healthy and happy."

Harold's resolve began to waver. He relaxed his shoulders and sighed.

"You're really a good man, Ethan," he said quietly. "Thank you. I'll accept… but only because I know you won't take no for an answer."

Ethan smiled. "Now you understand."

Julie sighed and smiled gently as she put her hand on her father's shoulder. "Thank you, Ethan. Really."

Ethan waved it off casually, his demeanor light. "No need for thanks. Just focus on getting better."

A few hours after that, Ethan sat in the living room with his parents, Aaron and Elise. The room was quiet, and a warm lamp lit their faces with soft light.

Elise sipped her tea while Aaron leaned back in his chair, his expression thoughtful.

"There's something I need to tell you about the Moores," Ethan began, his tone measured. "They're here because… their lives were in danger."

Elise's eyes widened, her cup pausing mid-air. "Danger? What kind of danger?"

Ethan hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "Jessica's father… well, he had another family and had not been living with them for years."

He then added, "Her father made a desperate decision. He borrowed money from a local loan shark, a dangerous one. Things escalated, and they had to leave to stay safe."

Aaron's brows furrowed, but his expression remained calm. "And what happened to the debt?"

"I've settled it," Ethan said simply, his tone steady.

Elise's eyes narrowed slightly in concern. "Ethan, how did you manage that? Loan sharks don't deal in small sums."

Aaron, sensing her unease, raised a hand to stop her. "Elise, let it be. It's Ethan's money, and he's using it to help people. That's his choice."

"But—" Elise began, only for Aaron to cut her off gently but firmly.

"Elise, you're the one who insisted Ethan accompany Jessica to her hometown. Now you're questioning him for doing what's right? Let him handle his life. He's not a child anymore," Aaron reminded.

Elise blinked, her expression softening. She set her cup down and nodded slowly. "You're right. I just worry. That's all."

Aaron's gaze softened as he looked at her. "We both do. But if it wasn't for Ethan, who knows what could have happened to Jessica and her family?"

Ethan stayed silent, his parents' words filling the quiet room. He was grateful for Aaron's support and Elise's concern, but he couldn't tell them the full truth, not about the Five Ghosts, not about the realm of the Ascendants, not about the danger he had faced to keep the Moores safe.

"Thank you," Ethan said finally, his voice quiet but sincere. "For trusting me."

Aaron nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Always."

Elise reached out, placing a hand over Ethan's. "Just promise us one thing, Ethan. If it ever becomes too much, you'll tell us. We're here for you."

Ethan smiled softly, nodding. "I promise."

The room fell into a comfortable silence, a shared understanding settling between them. Ethan leaned back, his mind already turning to the challenges ahead.