“Those punks, they don’t fucking understand,” Mason grumbled as he slumped into his office chair, rubbing his stressed temples. “Every act of aggression they do will only dig a hole deeper and deeper for them!”

Sel didn’t reply, instead walking around the room where there were a few older photos of Mason and gang, him and Chira with arms draped around each other with wide smiles, front and center.

“Either way, you got my word that the temple won’t suffer any retribution. Not on my watch, at least. How you holding up?”

“I’m fine.” Sel curtly replied.

“The tournament’s only a month away. Preliminaries are about to begin soon. I already got you signed up for a few placement matches.”

“When’s the first match?”

“Next week. You’ve been training hard for a month now, building up your physique. You’re much different than the lanky kid I saw last time.”

Sel glanced down at himself. He was not overtly muscular and large like Mason was, but rather lean and fit, his limbs brimming with energy, ready to lash out at a moment’s notice. The repetitive Daily Quests have started to become more manageable, while his Fatigue Endurance has helped him to recover faster. He had also used Resurgence for a brief moment to speed up the recovery process, the one week cooldown now in effect.

Without these two skills, Sel would not have been able to build muscle at all, due to the continuous strain and stress of the Daily Quests not giving him any rest days to regenerate. Now, however, Sel never felt better, cognizant of the newfound strength in his body.

“You’re fit enough now for the fight, but that’s only one part of it. Your punching and moves need a lot more work.” Mason lectured as he put on a pair of glasses far too tiny for his large face, reading a detailed paper on Sel’s practice so far.

Over the month, Mason has been guiding him personally on proper boxing movements, along with mixed martial arts of all sorts. “The fight is not going to be easy: it’s basically an underground street fight in a cage. There are no rules, meaning the opponent can gouge your eyes, hit your groin, anything goes. You have to stay aware and competent of all the possible dangers. Never think that something is off-limit. Especially weapons.”

“I thought the tournament forbids any form of weapons.”

“You never know. All it takes is for one guy hiding a shiv in his pants to end your life or severely maim you. Sure, he might be disqualified and punished, but you’re gunning for the prize. How are you supposed to win when you’re in the hospital?”

Sel nodded, Mason reading off the curriculum for the next week. “We’ve been doing enough punching bags and a few exercises to build up strength, but now it’s time to get a few real spars in with the boys, something you haven’t done yet. You good to go now?”

“Ready.” Sel didn’t want to waste any time, knowing that he only had a few days before the placement matches and wanting to cram as much experience as he could inside.

 

The two of them headed outside, where Chira and the others were still exercising in the various boxing rings. Sel could feel the glares on him, many clearly upset and frustrated with the amount of attention he was getting from Mason.

As if on cue, Chira and a few others walked right up to Mason and Sel immediately, blocking their path. “What’s the deal, Mason? This kid got you all soft and shit. Why are you protecting him, teaching him, and all that crap? He’s not even one of us!”

“This gym is open to anyone and everyone – not just our gang.” Mason retorted, before pushing Sel forward to them. “But I’m not protecting him. Instead, I’m giving you a chance to beat him up right now.”

“Huh?” Both Sel and Chira blurted out in unison.

“Can’t learn without a proper beatdown. Come on, Chira. You mad? Get some of your guys to beat this kid up. Free of charge.”

Chira eyed Mason warily, wondering if it was a trap of sorts, though his need for retribution far outweighed that suspicion. “Fine. You!” He motioned to another gangster in his clique. “Teach him a damn lesson.”

The spar was set up, with Sel changing into his fighting attire and entering the fighting ring, some of the spectators taken aback by the sheer definition in Sel’s muscles and body.

“What the… is he on roids? He just started last month?”

“This kid is insane; what is he eating? It took me years to get that!”

“Fuck him, he’s cheating. Definitely roids! Come on, beat that fucking kid up!”

Sel stretched his limbs and limbered up, jogging on the spot to get the blood flowing once more. His sparring partner was not as muscular as Sel was, his body lanky and bony, covered to the brim with all sorts of tattoos.

“I ain’t gonna go easy on you kid. Better watch out.” His opponent grinned, lifting both of his arms into a defensive posture.

Sel didn’t reply, merely assuming a similar fighting stance, his eyes locked on. For a few seconds, the adrenaline began to rush through his veins, tracing their way under his skin, the strength contained within surging forwards. Blood thumped in his ears with rhythmic purpose, the calls and jeers of the spectators drowned out by the pumping of his heart. His vision narrowed, focused, each breath counting down.

“Ready? BEGIN!”

Rushing forward in a headlong charge, the two fighters met in the middle before coming to a skidding halt, immediately throwing jabs to gauge the reach. Sel’s arms were not particularly long, the lanky opponent having the advantage as his opponent continued to intermittently throw infrequent jabs, trying to disrupt the tempo.

Time passed in a blur, Sel losing track of how long the back-and-forth jabbing was happening. Seconds turned into minutes as they circled each other.

“Come on, knock him out already!” The spectators called out.

Sel’s eyes darted rapidly, trying to lock onto any openings, any gaps. Suddenly, the opponent threw a brutal kick, the shin slamming right into Sel’s right thigh, a bout of jolting pain rushing through Sel while he involuntarily flinched, hands dropping on instinct.

Before Sel could recover from the pain, the opponent exploited his opportunity, throwing a fierce left hook that landed right smack on Sel’s face. The fierce blow immediately sent Sel sprawling onto the ground, disorientated from the sudden concussion that vibrated through his skull, his jawline bleeding heavily.

“That’s right, bitch! Stay down!” His opponent jeered, as Mason immediately rang a bell, signaling the end of the spar.  Sel groaned as he struggled to get up, his vision fading in and out as he saw Chira gloating at the side of the ring. The spite coursed through his very being, his mind determined to get up and fight again, but Mason immediately stopped him, grabbing him out of the ring and down onto a chair.

“Hey, hey. You alive? Nod if you are- hey hey hey, sit down! The spar is over!” Mason forcibly restrained Sel, preventing him from getting up. “You! Grab an ice pack and some towels!”

Sel’s lungs heaved, panting before he winced from the sharp, cold pain jolting through his jaw, the ice pack stinging as Mason wiped the blood off his face.

“First fight, huh? Different from punching a bag or basic practice. Everything goes, see? Under the waist. What if he had a weapon? Anyway, rest here until the wound clots up, then we’ll see if you’re good enough to go again.”

“Ph..phone. My phone.” Sel muttered through the inconvenient ice pack now strapped to his face.

Mason handed him his phone without questions, before moving off. Sel could see Chira and his followers all mocking him from afar. A simmering rage built within him, indignant. A few angry swipes on his phone ensued, Sel ripping off the ice pack and standing up.

“Mason. I’m ready.”

“Like fucking hell you are.” Mason grabbed him down, trying to force him to sit, but Sel refused to budge, his eyes laser-locked on his opponent. “You just suffered a concussion.”

“I’m fine. Let me in.”

“You’re ruining your chances at the placement match. There’s only a week left. If you take on too much now, you’re not going to recover in time.”

“Trust me,” Sel grunted, shoving past Mason and entering the ring once more, much to the surprise of the spectators who could still see his slightly wounded jawline. He pointed right at the previous opponent, motioning for him to come up.

“Me? You want another beating? Sure thing, kid. I love live punching bags.” His opponent grinned as he re-entered the ring, blowing on his knuckles, which were red from the hit just now. “Come on then.”

Mason hesitated for a moment, seeing Sel being so foolhardy. However, the pressure from his gang forced him to ring the bell, signaling the start of the fight as the two fighters rushed to the center once more, repeating the same dance.

“Come on, bitch!” His opponent jeered, nonchalantly throwing feints and straights to keep Sel guessing. Sel tried to throw a few retaliatory punches, but his opponent merely stepped back, gaining range and distance.

It was clear to anyone that Sel was on the backfoot, receiving blow after blow on his arms and his legs. Many spectators gave up watching, returning to their usual exercise routine, but the more curious and astute ones were even more intrigued, noticing that Sel was no longer flinching from any hits, even if they landed on the same bruised part of his thigh.

Even Chira was at a loss for words for how well Sel was taking the hits. “You dosed him?”

“I wished – not even a single drop.” Mason himself started to wear a smile on his face, seeing Sel continuously standing and not retreating.

The round went on for more than two minutes, his opponent starting to tire out. “Come on, man, you going to hole up like a turtle the whole time? Fight back, idiot!” As much bravado as the opponent put up, the speed and frequency of his jabs were starting to decline, each punch and kick slightly weaker than the one before.

A sudden glint appeared in Sel’s eyes, his right leg immediately kicking out as fast as he could in a sweeping fashion, slamming right into the opponent’s ankle with Sel’s entire body stepping forward with his right feet as the fulcrum, a devastating right hook immediately following up.

The opponent was no slouch either, immediately ducking only to see a fierce left uppercut slamming right into his face, Sel’s fist crushing into his chin and mouth, the skin immediately gashed by the knuckles.

Ignoring the pain in his left hand, he finished the opponent off with a left side kick, knocking the opponent down onto the ground with the blood trailing as the body tumbled.

A silence fell over the gym, the spectators astonished before erupting into cheers, awed at the surprising improvement Sel had shown.

[+35 Trust Received]

Sel himself collapsed to the floor, his body bruised all over, sweat coating his entire body and dripping off his face. Both Chira and Mason rushed over to the downed opponent, quickly hauling him out of the ring and checking for any injuries. “Where and how the fuck did you find that kid?” Chira whispered urgently to Mason, his hatred for Sel evaporating like the wind from that surprising win.

“Local kid. What do you think? Good chance at the prize? This kid could be our ticket to the big leagues. We can go legitimate, be a proper pro fighting gym.” Mason grinned, looking back at Sel with pride.

“… sure… yes, of course.” Chira’s voice trailed off, glancing at Sel once more. “This kid could definitely be our ticket.”

-----

Sel huffed and panted, taking another swig of water to swirl in his mouthbefore spitting out a mix of saliva and blood into the shower’s drainage, the residue trickling down his skin in a viscous trail as he wiped it off. His jaw still had clear wounds on it, forcing him to patch it up with a medical gauze wrapped around his cheek.

Bruises and lacerations were all over his limbs as well and parts of his body, sending waves of jolting pain every time the shower’s cold water ran over them. Sel gingerly touched one of them, wincing slightly at the pain.

However, he noticed that while the opponent threw the same punches at the start, he suffered less damage than before. It was hard for him to quantify exactly how much damage he received, but it was definitely much less than the hit on the jaw that took him out in the first round.

[Passive Skill Purchased: Physical Fortitude (F) – Reduces the damage inflicted against the User for physical attacks. Note: does not reduce amount of pain felt.]

Buying that Physical Fortitude was probably the right move for sure. Sel had purchased it right before the second round, allowing him to withstand much more hits than usual. It didn’t lessen the pain – Sel could only hope that he could buy a Mental Fortitude skill in the future for that.

He checked his information sheet once again.

[Name: Selas Trind]

[Aspect: Tenacity]

[Faith: 90 (F)]

[Trust: 69(F-)]

[Followers: 0(F-)]

[Current Deity Rank: Whisper (30)]

Everything is going well. Sel was on track to earn enough Faith every week from the dozens of necklaces and bracelets that he had sold, and he could collect Faith from his Idol Totem in the temple every day.

This also meant that he could potentially purchase something else in the shop before the placement match.

[Upgrade Deity Rank: 3000 Faith/9000 Trust]

[Upgrade Aspect Grade: 500 Faith/ 1500 Trust]

There was no way he was going to accumulate 3000 Faith in such a short period of time, but the Upgrading of the Aspect was very much within reach. As he cleaned up from the shower, Sel’s mind was preoccupied with what benefits he would get from the upgrade, ignoring the now much more respectful gazes of others in the changing room.

Changing out into his usual attire, he adjusted his sleeve, hoping to cover up as much of the injuries as possible to prevent his sister from freaking out. A jacket, a face mask, and long jeans did the trick, leaving only Sel’s upper face exposed.

Before he could leave, Chira was already standing in the doorway, blocking his exit. Sel’s eyes squinted, his body tensing up for yet another fight.

“I ain’t here to fight, kid. I’m here to… apologize. Sorry for messing with your temple. You’re alright.”

Sel was taken aback. I didn’t think he would be one to apologize. Something’s wrong.

“Will you accept my apology? I’ll keep my men in line; make sure no one fucks with your temple.” Chira held out a hand, offering peace.

Sel glanced at the hand, before reluctantly reciprocating the handshake. It wouldn’t be wise to piss off the gang members, even though he had the support of Mason.

Chira smiled, stepping to the side. “See you tomorrow, kid.”

Sel readily took his chance, leaving the changing room and, subsequently the gym as well, heading home. Something felt off to him about Chira’s apology, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on what.

As long as I have no beef with them, everything is fine. Sel pushed it to the back of his mind, focusing on what he was going to do for the next week as he walked under the sparse street lights, the sun dipping below the horizon. The main focus would be acquiring enough Faith before the match to upgrade the Aspe-

“Sel.”

The familiar voice startled him, a figure standing under a street light in the distance, glaring at him.

“…Gideon? What are you doing out here? Shouldn’t you be at home?”

“What a surprise! I was just about to ask you the same exact fucking thing. Where were you for the last three hours?”

“What’s the purpose being asking this?”

“Don’t fuck with me. You’re hanging out with the same fucking idiots who are drinking with my aunt every damn night!” Gideon roared, storming up to Sel accusingly. “What the fuck are you even doing with them?!”

“Gideon, calm down! I’m not hanging out with anyone, I’m just attending the gym for exercise!”

“Don’t even try to wiggle out of this - you know better than anyone else that gym is infested to the brim with Mason’s rats!”

“I’m not drinking with them, and I haven’t done anything wrong, okay? I’m doing this for us!” Sel tried to pry Gideon away from him, but Gideon stood firm, a bemused smile appearing on his face in ridicule.

“For us? For who? For my aunt to drink even more? For me to watch my mom turn into a wreck of her former self? So you can feel better about yourself, hanging out with the ‘cool guys’?”

“Gideon, you’re making a lot of assumptions here. I’m only exercising and training!”

“Training for what?” Gideon countered, but Sel couldn’t say. The tournament was clearly illegal, which would only make Gideon even more ballistic.

“Can’t say? Why? You didn’t do anything wrong, right? Why can’t you tell me?” Gideon mocked.

“Look, I can handle it, okay? By the end of the month, I will have nothing more to do with them, and our financial problems will all be settled.”

“When are you going to stop lying through your teeth? ‘I’ll handle this,’ or ‘I’ll take care of that.’ When are you going to live up to my trust?”

“Gideon, I –“

“I might have believed in you before, but now? If you don’t want to tell me what you’re doing, I’ll figure it out myself. Then you can talk to your sister after I tell her everything.”

Sel’s eyes twitched. “Are you blackmailing me right now?”

“Don’t even try to make me feel bad – if you feel like you’re being blackmailed it’s because you KNOW you’re doing something wrong. I’m trying to get you back on the fucking right path here!”

Sel glared at Gideon for a brief moment, before relaxing and dragging him off to the side, whispering. “Fine, but you can’t tell anyone. Especially not Felicia. Promise?”

“You gotta promise first that whatever the fuck you’re doing now, you’re going to put a stop to it soon.”

“I promise.”

“Then you have my word as well. As long as you don’t break yours first.”