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Class G Battle Suit Fighter

A child from the lowest class of society, a simple G-class boy, will impose himself with his fists in a cruel world. He will advance from the sewers and sewers to the top and fame, from class to class, only with his perseverance, his rage, and his ability to survive. But getting out of the gutter is not easy, nor will the elites allow him to advance easily. Will his fists be able to impose himself on his cruel destiny?

Albinus_istamar · Sports
Not enough ratings
98 Chs

27

The bets were four to one against him, that's how stupid the spectators could be, lovers of violence and brute force, they wouldn't know how to distinguish a good fighter from scum, only if the public's spirits raised a hero would they notice the differences between one and the other.

The judges this time were not in charge of the bets, this was a serious tournament, they had a computerized system for that. Mouse let the scanner read his pupil, once his identity was confirmed he was able to access the betting system, without flinching he bet the five thousand salaries. There was no one to warn him, or reproach him. In the stadium there were thousands of people who would bet on each and every fight, the bet was more than covered.

Blacker took him to the entrance hall to the arena.

"Nervous?"

"Not particularly, barring surprises it shouldn't be a problem..."

"Remember the plan, you don't just have to win, you have to try to take the least amount of damage possible."

"I know Mr. Blacker, hit and go, just finish if I see it easy."

"You'll do well, good luck, kid."

The kid took off his shirt and let his hands be bandaged, Blacker knew the trade, it was obvious that he had fought in his youth, his fists were as well protected as if it were Marcus himself who had done it. The audience could be heard shouting and talking in the interlude.

The announcer announced Mouse and the doors to the waiting hall opened, the pressure of the atmosphere was overwhelming for the boy. His weak appearance made him the possible loser, he was not in favor with the public.

He climbed into the ring, he wouldn't bother to greet, if those idiots didn't want him, they would learn to do it. However, Mouse's eyes were looking for someone in the audience. There he was in the front row, he had even shaved off the small, sparse beard that had grown over those months. The champion greeted him with a thumbs up. Mouse nodded his head in response.

At that moment the announcer proceeded to announce his opponent.

"And now in this 21st fight, the opponent we were all waiting for, Gorilla!"

The audience screamed enthusiastically, Mouse was not pressured by the lack of support, he did not have to prove anything to anyone, but the boos bothered him, they made him angry.

Gorilla was a big, broad boy, with long black hair, his trainer had not bothered to remove it or shave it like many others, that made him look much more aggressive and wild than his opponents.

He had disproportionately long arms like the animal that gave him his name, and with the swollen belly he now had, he looked even more like him than in the videos of his previous fights. But the boy had been well-trained to win the favor of the public as soon as he stepped into the ring he raised his arms and roared while beating his chest.

The crowd began to chant his name. A mouse versus a gorilla, the comparison was absurd. A scrawny child versus a strong one, nobody liked weak fighters. A boy who didn't even greet another who went out of his way to win them over. And in the end a boy who won by imposing his strength and violence against a sly and cunning fighter. Despite Mouse's rage, the crowd couldn't really be blamed.

However, the boy at that moment was remembering Blacker's words, unlike Marcus who only thought about the fight, Blacker had a better instinct for finances.

"Before deciding what role you want to play, and think it over coldly for your benefit..."

"What do you mean, Mr. Blacker?"

"If you win the first fight, people will start to change their view of you, they will stop seeing the weak child and in the following bets the possible profit will be less..."

"But I can't avoid winning..."

"Ha ha ha, but I'm not talking about that mouse, of course you have to win, the thing is how and with what attitude, the rabble doesn't like villains, they want spectacle and for the heroes to win, make them hate you..."

"That they hate me?"

"Throw a low blow, beat your opponent even if the referee stops the fight, don't bow when you enter or leave, spit on your defeated opponent, do whatever it takes to make people focus not on your talent but on how much they hate you, so even if they think you're a great fighter they won't support you in the next round and there won't be as many people who bet on you even if it's just because of the hatred you arouse..."

It was valuable advice, one that would serve him well, in that society one had to do everything possible to survive and thrive, that was the movie, morality had no place.

The referee called the two fighters to remind them of the few rules of the fight. Each one went to his corner and the whistle blew the start of the fight.

Mouse stood guard and began to move out of Gorila's range. Gorila immediately launched himself with large open punches. The opponent's fist looked like it was going to hit, but at the last moment Mouse swung, and the fist passed under his head.

He moved to the left with half a step and hit Gorila's ribs only twice. Gorila turned around, accompanying the movement with a right punch, but Mouse dodged it again, hitting two more times while moving to the other side.

After this exchange Mouse moved away a few steps. Gorila attacked again and the sequence was repeated: dodge, enter, hit, retreat, dodge, hit, leave.

To the public, Mouse was only throwing a combination of two weak punches. How could a much smaller child hit hard? But from his low stance and using all the strength of his semi-flexed legs, the blows were really hurting his opponent.

The fourth time the pattern was repeated, the crowd began to boo Mouse, even though his opponent had not managed to hit him even once. His blows were violent and aimed at the head, but this slippery boy limited himself to hitting the body twice and retreating.

In the crowd, a surprised Marcus raised an eyebrow. He knew that the kid could do much longer and more forceful combinations. It is true that he was not receiving damage, that everything was going according to plan, but he could have done much more damage to this slower, clumsier opponent who almost telegraphed the blows.

Mouse was not using his legs as they had rehearsed either, it seemed that he was infuriating the crowd on purpose.

Unlike Viper, Mouse danced around the ring out of range, sometimes to one side, sometimes further away, sometimes changing direction. Not a single blow from Gorila hit him, but Mouse was not taking advantage of it, he was not taking out even a tenth of his potential.

When the first round ended and the judges awarded the round to Mouse, the crowd began to boo both fighters, Gorila for his clumsiness and Mouse for not putting on a good show.