Eye Of The Tiger III

Breathe in... Breathe out...

Joaquin stretched his toes, feeling the sand beneath his toes. His stance widening into a semi-squat as he brought his left arm up horizontally to his forehead. His right hand guarding his torso. Since he was accustomed to a sword, he had absent-mindedly assumed an ox-stance, now without any weapon.

His opponent, he analyzed, went into an orthodox boxing stance. 'Something he might've seen on pay-per-view', Joaquin thought. 'Basic, but extremely effective in this circumstance.'

A moment passed when a small DING! echoed.

His opponent moved first, bouncing on his left leg and using his right one to propel himself forward. Such quick movement surprised Joaquin, but he soon moved backwards when a clenched fist came into his right-field view.

'What speed!' Joaquin wondered as he weaved left and right, dodging his sparring partner's quick jabs. By the fifth jab, his opponent seems to figure out that his jabs don't work. "You're fast, but it won't matter if you're predictable."

Instead of responding, his opponent released a wide cross with his left hand, but Joaquin blocked it with his front forearm. Seeing the unguarded torso, Joaquin unleashed his right arm at his foe's chest.

A thick THUD! resounded as his fist struck the area, forcing Richard back with a painful grunt. 

"You're quick to frustrate. Reckless in the name of recklessness." Joaquin chided in a mocking tone.

"Don't you ever shut up." His foe heaved in pain, clutching his chest, which now sports a welt.

Joaquin smirked, bouncing off his hind leg and the momentum to catch Richard off-guard. The former bending his front leg to knee the latter's body, but Richard, alerted by his supernatural abilities, quickly ducked down and rolled forward. 

Joaquin clicked his tongue, but still continued his assault, launching backwards with a sideways somersault. His legs caught the side of the recovering Richard, flinging him off a few meters away.

Richard skidded past the sand pit and stooped an inch into the wooden mats. His hands shaking lightly as he clutched his side in agony.

Joaquin steadied his footing and breathing, dutifully scanning his foe's aching form. "Can you still continue?"

Richard's response came after a few seconds. "Yep... just gotta... tune out the pain."

His opponent hefted himself upwards, revealing his sweating face. "I'm good. God, how are you this strong?"

"Told you, genetics." Joaquin spoke no further and merely rushed forward. He employed his opponents' earlier boxing technique as he released jabs and hooks at Richard's body.

The two figures exchange punches for next two minutes. Joaquin, with all his experience and strength, could not quite figure out why Richard's punches- at least, the ones that hits- were so heavy yet so quick. He, however, had devised his punches to only his four areas to inflict as much pain as possible. Though if he was being honest, his fist hurts as much as his body as his opponent's skin felt like a thick bear rug.

Before they knew it, they heard a much louder DING! bringing them out of their fight and, in Richard's case, right into the ground.

Joaquin thanked his luck for the bell. His fist burning in agony as he unceremoniously took a seat in the sandpit. He hadn't felt like this in a long while, not even when he was training with a rogue sect of Shaolin monks. For a moment, a generous smile appeared on Joaquin before returning to a typical expression.

"You are strong," He remarked. He saw a small smile of appreciation on Richard's face, so he intends to pop the bubble. "But you can't hit for shit!"

"C'mon, man. We.... were.... having... Jesus, I'm dying... having a moment there." Richard spoke through bated breath as he stretched down on the matted floor, his chest heaving up and down. Even from here, Joaquin could see the welts and bruises he had inflicted upon the man's left chest, lower abdomen, lower jaw, and right kidney.

For a moment, only the panting breaths of both combatants reigned upon the sparring ground. Each of them counting every second to recover what they could before the second round.

Without a moment's waste, as soon as the bell emitted a resounding DING, the two combatants rushed at each other. For the next six minutes, they fought tooth and nails. Blood and scraped skin sprinkled across the waves of sand.

Although the first round had been to Joaquin's win, the second created an upset when Richard disregarded all forms of defense and tried to grapple Joaquin. The latter thought him mad as the Greythorne heir endured a dozen strikes before he could even clutch onto Joaquin's waist. Leveraging his great strength, Richard lifted Joaquin off the ground, bounced a few inches into the air, turning sideways mid-air, and smashed him back into the ground. The rest of the round consisted of Joaquin effectively blocking off any strikes from Richard, who was trying to keep the latter from escaping his prone condition.

Joaquin groaned away from his foe, tiredness overtaking his sore body, but even more so for his opponent. Exhaustion evident in Richard's form, hunching down, for if it touched the ground, he may never stand up again. But the moment the third bell rang, both adversaries clashed once more.

The third round had well been in Joaquin's favor. His challenger, the Greythorne heir, lacked nothing but experience and stamina. Though he had leveraged his strength to gain a win, such was a fluke in the eyes of the martial artist. No longer looking to spar, Joaquin employed techniques passed down to him by his master. Richard never saw the flitted fists as it assailed his torso, quickly bringing him down to his knees. But the blue-eyed youth, despite his exhaustion, never looked down on the ground, instead forcing his sore arms up in a futile defense. 

Joaquin, for a moment, contemplated giving him a reprieve, but his eagerness to teach the youth his weakness overshadowed any sign of mercy. Three hits was all it took for the monster hunter to go down the sandpit. One knee strike to the right kidney to lower his guard, a second elbow to the left ear to disorient his conciousness, and a powerful right uppercut to knock him out.

●●●2 Hours Later●●●

Irwin woke up to start, his head swirling around to identify his surrounding. Panic beset him, that was, before intense agony erupted from every inch of his form. The pain itself was not that powerful, but the fact that it reached even the smallest of his muscles.

"Fuck me six ways to Sunday!" He roared before activating his system.

[ Character | Skill | Supernatural Record | Status | Quest | Trade Shop ]

'Trade Counter'

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▪︎ Paracelsus' Alchemical Concoction (1x)

▪︎ Seed Of Eden (1x)

▪︎ Ward Of Obviation (2x)

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With a thought, a twelve-inch wide apothecary jar appeared in his hands. Mindlessly popping the cork, the smell of herbs and cat piss pervaded his nose, but he still drank it. Contrary to his expectation, it tasted like warm lemon lime. Not good, yet not bad either. But what came next was better as a sudden warmth suffused his body, relieving him of the agony that terrorized him not mere moments ago.

"Oh, am I interrupting something?" Joaquin's voice cut short Irwin's pleasurable experience with the potion.

Irwin instantly dropped the ceramic jar and promptly jump to his feet, now fully aware of his surrounding. Joaquin had allowed him to rest on his office couch after their bout and his knockout. And, by the energy drink in his hand, seems to be quite apologetic for what he did. At least, that's what Irwin thought.

"I-I was just stretching because... my body... hurts. Yes, it hurts!" He reasoned out quickly lest Joaquin thought him a pervert, grinding and spasming on the latter's rug. "What, uh, what happened?"

"Well, I might've gotten too excited." He explained, placing the drink atop the coffee table before taking a seat in his office chair. "You surprised me on the 2nd round, so I used a martial arts technique on the last three hits."

Irwin whistled as he took his drink, quenching his thirst and ridding him of the potion's taste. "Damn. Your kind of badass. Is all that strength 'genetics' or part of that martial arts?"

"Uh, a little of both." He chuckled awkwardly, squirming lightly in his seat. "My ancestors came from the Roman-occupied Egypt and, my grandfather, being a philologist, tried to uncover about our history. The thing he found led my family to believe that one of our closest ancestor was a demigod."

Irwin sat on the coach in solemn contemplation, gazing towards Joaquin. "A demigod? child of a pagan borne out of a mortal partner?"

"Yeah. Story goes was that he was a soldier for the roman legion."

"Can you tell me about it?" Irwin motioned for Joaquin to continue.

"Alright. Back then, a roman emperor came wanted to invade ancient Romania- Dacia, it's called- and raised two imperial legions. Ulpia Victrix and Traiana were created some time after the first century. They ravaged the surrounding land, went to Parthenon, and defended Alexandria when, you know, the emperor who raised them died." Joaquin began telling the story, his hand fiddling with the medallion. "Our ancestor, Amenhiunamif Lusius, was the Centurion during that siege, but, unfortunately, just before the reinforcements arrived. Of the plague, no less"

"Seems like a lot of details for a two thousand-year-old tale." Irwin surmised.

"Exactly. But the next part is even more detailed. Official letters to the governor of Aegyptus of a man in Alexandria capable of bending iron and tearing apart a hundred men." He continued. "They sent people to capture the man, and he kept saying that he was reborn by Anubis to train the mortal men."

"Train them? for what?" Irwin asked, hands covering his chin in silent contemplation.

"That's the thing. We don't know. All we know is that the governor sent him on a boat to Italy, but the boat sank. And the only thing that was retrieved and given to his surviving kin was that medallion." He finished before giving Irwin the medallion.

"So, do you believe it?" Irwin asked, now interested in his story. He had noted earlier the medallion hanging upon the man's neck, strung around a thin piece of worn rope. He rubbed the rope of the medallion, worn from centuries of use yet still tight at the tug. The backside featured a man cast in bronze. "Hercules," He muttered.

Joaquin suddenly sniggered. "I've seen a lot of stuff in my days. Spent my youth in Mongolia, fighting off Chinese incursions. When the nights come and the screams of your enemy still haven't receded in your ears, you kinda just look at the mountains and the hills. You think a lot. You learn a lot too, living amongst the people. They tell you stuff. Most of it... superstition, but there are times when you just... know. You know what I mean?"

"Yeah." Irwin replied in a low voice before gazing quizzically at Joaquin's face. "So, this medallion?"

"Goes back millennia's. Travelled with it to the new world. Settled in Cuba, still has it with us," He said. "When I was younger, before I found myself in Asia, I tried to find out about it too. Guess I don't have an explorer's blood with like grandfather."

Irwin nodded along but sent him a look as he says, "Wait. How... old are you? Aren't like in your late 20s?"

Joaquin laughed, "Boy, I'm 57 years old."

"What!?" Irwin yelled. "What the fuck? I thought you met Ella in college?"

"Oh, a black man can't go to college now?" Joaquin scolded.

Wide-eyed by the sudden racial accusation, Irwin waved his hands. "What? No, I'm not- That's now what I'm saying. You just look young, you know? I would've th---"

"I'm just fucking with you, man." Joaquin said before erupting into a belly laugh. "Goddamn, the look on your face. Priceless."

"My heart was pounding, man."" Irwin too laughed his heart out. "So, how did you two meet?"

"Sorry 'bout that. Ella told me to bring you down a notch." Joaquin said, throwing her under the bus. "I was finishing my BA on communications when we met at a library. She invited me to a chess club. They only had two other members and needed one more for it to be official."

"That sounds like her." Irwin gave a small smile at the thought of Ella's genial pity.

"Well, now that you've healed, quite rapidly, if I may say," He motioned at Irwin's unblemished face and fair skin now devoid of any bruise or marks from the earlier bout. "Have you thought about being my student?"

It took Irwin a good five seconds before he responded with: "Yes, Mr Espinar. If you would have me."

Joaquin held out his hand, which Irwin took. "Gladly!"