Lookism: No Limits

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In the world of MMA, those with talent will always stand out among the other fighters. Talented with boxing, submissions, or even a powerful body. They will always be at the top, and unfortunately, this is something that hard work is incapable of changing.

People may deny this, say that effort can overcome talent, and they are not wrong about this.

But in the fighting world, talent alone is not enough to get to the top.

The talented strive because they know that in MMA, they will meet other people born with the gift.

And when two talented people face each other, the one who has prepared himself more for the fight wins.

In this world, there is a limit to how far pure effort can go.

But...

Max was willing to go against this law imposed at his birth.

Abandoned as a newborn, Max grew up in a simple orphanage, where most of the caretakers cared enough about the children just to give them food. This was more than enough for him to survive, but the lack of concern from the adults turned Max's life into hell, for being small and weak, he was the main target of children raised without parental love.

Therefore, he had to learn to defend himself from the very beginning.

It took time, and it was painful, but eventually, the orphanage bullies realized that there was no point in continuing to attack Max, since even though the boy was a wimp, he would still fight with everything he had, and do as much damage as possible before being beaten.

In this way, Max reached adulthood, where after leaving the orphanage, he met the world of MMA when he passed in front of a gym on his way to work.

His attention had been immediately taken, and he did not hesitate to try.

It didn't take long for him to realize that this was what he wanted for his life.

But...

"Sorry to tell you, kid. But you don't have the talent for it."

It didn't take long for Max to understand that not just anyone could enter this world head on.

"..."

"I understand... But still... I want to try."

But regardless of what people said, regardless of whether the beginners in a few weeks would be able to fight evenly with him, Max would still try. Fighting had taken over his heart, and it had started from when his fists had saved him from being beaten when he was younger.

So he struggled every day, often staying up all night just to understand a single movement.

And all his efforts were not in vain, when at the age of 22, he scored his first professional fight.

It was difficult, but after 4 years of training every day, even if he faced a physically superior opponent, his intelligence in battle would serve to close the gap between the two.

Thus, his debut as a professional fighter was mediocre, although he did beat his first opponent.

It took 2 more years of continuous fighting to get the attention of a reputable organization, and 1 more year to finally enter the ranks of fighters as the 47th position.

And after seven years of dedication, at the age of 25, Max finally got a shot at the lightweight belt.

And this was an opportunity he could by no means pass up, after all, this could be the pinnacle of his career, and should he lose, it could become unattainable afterwards.

As an average fighter in everything, imagining himself fighting for the belt a second time was something extremely distant.

.

"Why doesn't this guy fall?!" In the Octagon, Viktor Mahachev, the current lightweight champion and holder of the belt, stared at his opponent with frustration.

The fight had already reached the 4th round, and Max, his opponent, who from his perspective was nothing more than a fighter lucky enough to get a fight against him, was still standing, even after having received numerous sharp punches to the face.

"It doesn't matter! You just need to keep up the pace. He's just playing tough guy, so don't worry, and keep hitting him until he gives in!"

Viktor listened to the instruction and nodded in agreement, putting on his mouthguard and getting up to start the last round.

Reaching the last round was a shame for Viktor, who had already finished much more problematic opponents than Max in less than two rounds. From the fights the Russian had seen, his opponent did not show extreme dominance in any area, so in his view, he certainly would not give him any trouble.

But during the fight, whenever Viktor was about to knock Max out, the average fighter would move at the last moment, either deflecting enough so that the blow wouldn't hit him, or grabbing him.

'But that certainly won't happen anymore.' Turning his attention back to his opponent, Viktor noticed him panting. 'I'll definitely knock him out!'

Moving closer, the instant the two fighters touched gloves, Viktor was quick to send a cross against Max, who caught by surprise at the champion's sudden aggressiveness, barely blocked the blow with his forearm.

'Now!'

With an animalistic grin, Viktor threw himself against Max's legs, who was unable to react fast enough to stop the approach, causing the Russian to successfully grab him and lift him up, knocking him backwards onto the ground.

For many of the spectators, this was the end of Max, after all, grappling was the current champion's specialty. How could someone so average survive that?

But it wasn't as if Max didn't know that too.

Holding the Russian's wrist, Max pushed his waist with his foot while maintaining his grip, successfully stopping the onslaughts, which surprised not only Viktor, but everyone watching.

How was Max, who until a few months ago was suffering against average Grapplers, being able to stop the onslaughts of a genius like Viktor Mahachev?

This had a simple answer: Dedication.

For 3 full months, the only thing Max trained was Jiujitsu and Judo, which despite significantly diminishing his boxing skills, served as a glove against the champion.

Since even if Max could exchange blows with Viktor, if the Russian were able to take him down, all would be lost.

So, even with his chest aching from lack of air, he didn't miss a single training session.

He would not let those 3 months go in vain.

"Ugh, for a second you had me worried."

Max's eyes widened as Viktor released his grip with extreme ease, the Russian putting his knee on his thigh and making him groan in pain.

"But there was no need for that, after all, you are the one known as average at everything."

About to walk away, Max had his wrist suddenly held, which made him look at the champion with dread.

"It's impossible for someone like you to win that fight."

"!"

Seeing his situation, Max tried to punch the Russian's chin to get a chance to escape from that position, but that was ineffective as Viktor just moved his head back and held his opponent's elbow, moving in for a very familiar finish among the spectators.

Kata gatame!

The technique fit perfectly, Max struggling to free himself only to continually fail, the pressure on his neck increasing more and more as he struggled to breathe.

'All this... Was it for nothing?'

As Max struggled uselessly, his mind was filled with thoughts.

For seven years of his life he had dedicated himself completely to fighting, giving himself body and soul to the chance to shine doing what he loved so much, but...

Where did it get you?

To a mediocre career, where he could barely gather enough audience for his fights. A career where all the time he was on the edge of the cliff, where one slip-up would get him fired from the organization.

This was frustrating, frustrating enough to make him question every day why he was doing this.

But...

If he had to answer truthfully, he would say that he didn't regret it one bit.

In his journey as a professional he had met many people, made friends, made companions, who supported his decisions, and criticized him whenever necessary. Along with his few fans, his friends would surely be rooting for him no matter where they were.

The upshot of it all for Max was that fighting had been a blessing in his life. It had provided him with protection, work, fans, and friends.

He couldn't ask for anything more than that.

The fight was the best gift he had ever received

"..."

!

Viktor was reassured. No one had ever escaped his Kata gatame, and he doubted that someone like Max could be first, so he just kept his grip on his opponent's neck while waiting for the referee to intervene.

Because of this, he could not have expected to suddenly have his opponent's elbow push his head away, a move that immediately alerted him, as it gave Max enough freedom to breathe and escape.

And that is exactly what he did.

Viktor tried to hold him back, but Max showed unexpected speed, which made even the champion slow to understand what had just happened.

"He... He got away!"

The audience went wild at this turn of events, and Viktor immediately stood up as he raised his guard, his eyes narrowing at Max, who stood with his guard down as his body swung like a pendulum

'Lucky, that was pure luck.' Viktor was sweating, his fingers clenching hard as he took a step forward. 'He certainly hasn't recovered from the lack of oxygen, I just need to take advantage of that and knock him out.'

That's what the Russian thought, and it would be true in most cases, but...

This could no longer be considered a normal case.

Viktor could not know what was happening to Max, not the audience, not anyone.

Because it was a unique event, one that had not happened once during the 200,000 years of human history.

Boom!

Suddenly, Viktor fell flat on his buttocks as a fist struck him squarely on the chin, his brain rattling causing him to be unable to reason the situation out.

"What... What the hell is going on?!" The Russian raised his head in confusion, his vision landing on a Max standing in front of him, a strange glow radiating from his brown eyes.

Max, going against the law imposed by god, had achieved that which all geniuses share... No...

Surpassing even that which geniuses share with their own efforts, he was chosen by the god himself.

Chosen to become the one at the top.

The one without limits.