My Pro Boxer System

What could I do? I was trapped. My opponent moved toward me with calm precision. I slowly crept backward, keeping my left arm up to my face to block any incoming blows.

The moment he got close, I threw a jab with my left arm, then sidestepped when he tried to counter. Though I could only fight using one arm, I still had my footwork to help me. He was almost as fast as me when it came to footwork, but I still had him outclassed.

I figured it was because he was a former MMA fighter. The way he moved around the ring in his boxing shoes was a bit awkward, and so was the way he handled his gloves. But what made him a force to be reckoned with was his speed and power.

If I had to guess, I would say his power was at least twice mine. A single blow in the right spot would be all he needed to win.

Unperturbed, he crept toward me slowly, moving as slowly as a snail. This showed how experienced he was as a boxer. In a high-speed boxing match, I could always get the better of my opponent by baiting them into chasing me.

This forced them to try to match my speed, but since I was faster, they always lost in that endeavor—and that's where I would take advantage, since I was more adept at fighting at higher speeds.

But this opponent was different. He was fighting at his own pace. I couldn't bait him into attacking me like I did with the others. He was slowly backing me into a corner of the ring.

He positioned himself at an angle where I couldn't slip past him without getting hit by one of his blows. This showed how experienced a fighter he was. It was a frightening truth: because of his experience, he was always going to have more tricks up his sleeve than me.

"You're too weak," he mumbled before throwing another punch to drive me further into the corner.

I moved to counter his blow the moment he threw his punch, but every bone in my body screamed not to. Instead, I only allowed myself to be pushed back further.

I didn't know if I made the right choice, but right now, following my instincts was the best weapon I could use. I used my footwork combined with some feints to try to get the better of him, but still he wouldn't budge. He read every move I made with pinpoint accuracy.

He was like a zombie creeping toward me with a single lethal bite. Just the slightest slip-up and that would be it. With nothing else to do, I decided to go on the offensive. My right arm was healing but not fully healed yet, so I attacked with my left arm. He blocked the punch and quickly followed up with a counter, but I sidestepped him this time and managed to land a blow on his lower abdomen.

His body felt surprisingly sturdy. It was as if my blow didn't phase him at all. That was why he wasn't focusing much on his defense. He took every blow I managed to land on him easily while throwing punches of his own. The moment I got too close to the ropes, I charged at him again, but this time, with a burst of speed, he managed to outmaneuver me.

Panic flooded through me, but I still tried to fight back. I fired consecutive blows aimed at his most sensitive areas, but he powered through them all and planted his fist into my ribs.

My legs went weak from the blow, but before I could even fall to the ground, I was hit with an uppercut. The metallic taste of my own blood flooded my mouth. My lip was split open with that single blow.

My mind was swinging as I flickered on the edge of consciousness, but my opponent didn't let up. He held me up against the ropes so I didn't fall to the ground and delivered consecutive blows one after another. With every blow, it felt as if a new bone had been broken.

The crowd's cheers came to a halt as the only sound that wafted through the space was the sound of human flesh being beaten. Everything felt sticky as the blood from my broken nose and busted lips was smeared all over my body with every blow.

My opponent looked at me with cold indifference as he continued his brutal assault nonstop. He targeted my lower body and avoided places like my solar plexus and jaw. He was being especially careful so I wouldn't be knocked out.

He wanted to keep the match going as long as he could. To torture me as much as possible. The crowd watched me get pummeled without uttering a word. It was like they were in a trance.

I tried to fight back, but my body was too weak. My eyes were so swollen that I could no longer see properly. His assault went on for God knows how long until I felt a sharp pain in my stomach. He landed a blow that knocked the air out of me, making it impossible to breathe.

My body went limp as I collapsed to the ground. There was no sound. I felt nothing, only darkness.

…

I woke up a few minutes later inside the locker room. My head felt like someone was hammering it. I glanced around the room and saw that I was alone. Everyone else seemed to have left.

But how did I get here?

After a fighter loses a match, they are normally tossed out of the ring like garbage. Someone must have brought me here.

But who?

"Are you feeling okay?" Just then, a figure stepped into the room—it was Yuki.

"What happened?"

"You got knocked out. I had to drag you back here so you could rest."

"Thank you. I can't move an inch."

"That's because he kept wailing on you even after you were knocked out. For a second, I thought you… I tried to get Chris to stop, but that bastard couldn't care less."

"Well, thank you for trying at least."

"Want me to call your family so they can take you to the hospital?" she asked.

"No need. I just need to rest and I'll be fine."

"W-what? You at least have several broken ribs from all that. And I bet you have a concussion too. If you don't want to die in the middle of the night, I suggest you go to a doctor."

"I said I'm fine. I just need to rest."

"Fine, but how do you expect to get home in that state?"

"..." I stared at her blankly. My body would heal eventually, but until then, I didn't know what I would do.

"Just leave me here," I suggested. "I'll be fine by morning."

"You idiot," she sighed. "You can stay at my place for the night. It'll be easier to get there since it isn't that far away."

"Are you sure?" I asked.

She nodded and waved me off as if it was no big deal.

"It's fine. Don't worry about it."

With Yuki's help, I slowly got up off the bench and we left the building. People ignored us as if it was an everyday occurrence while she dragged me to her place.

Soon, we arrived at an apartment building that looked like it was on the verge of collapse. We entered, and the inside was just as bad as the outside. There were cracks and stains on the walls and obvious signs of infestation. She brought me up the stairs to her apartment.

It was a tiny, cramped space packed with clutter. Clothes and various items were thrown all about on the floor. It was a small space with one bedroom, a bathroom, and a living room that doubled as a makeshift kitchen.

In a corner of the room were some cushions and a stack of clothes folded neatly. Beside the clothes were feminine items.

I wondered if that was where Yuki slept.

"What about your parents? Won't they be surprised to see me here?" I asked.

"My dad disappeared when I was little, and my mom is probably holed up somewhere with some guy."

Her situation seemed worse than I first thought.

"You can sleep on the cushions today," she said.

"Where will you sleep?"

"I'll find a comfortable spot on the floor."

"Both of us can sleep on the cushions," I suggested.

Her face flushed red.

"T-there's not enough space. Besides, you're in no position to argue, so just shut up and sleep where I tell you."

She helped me over to the pile of cushions in the corner, and I lay down on them. It wasn't the most comfortable spot, but I didn't mind.

Yuki lay down not too far from where I was sleeping.

"Please… don't die in my house. I have enough problems as it is," she mumbled.

"Don't worry. I'll be fine by morning," I whispered to her.