The First Real Fight

Mo and Zidan.

They were the same pair who had tailed him that morning. Ethan believed they already knew where he lived, and that made his blood run cold.

"What should I do?" Ethan muttered under his breath, his mind racing through possibilities.

He briefly considered calling the police but dismissed the thought almost immediately.

'And then what? File a report, and I hope they don't have connections.'

Movies had taught him—sometimes the hard way—that criminals often had networks, and those networks weren't always confined to their own kind.

The wrong word to the wrong officer, and things could spiral further out of control.

The thought of his family flashed before his eyes, sharpening his resolve. 'What if they target them?' That was a risk he couldn't take.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, Ethan squared his shoulders. He didn't want this confrontation, but it seemed inevitable. And with his newfound skills, perhaps he stood a chance.

"I can take them," he whispered to himself, trying to sound braver than he felt. "No. I must take them."

His training—if one could even call it that—had only been a memory implant, courtesy of the system.

But if Krav Maga and Close Quarters Combat were in his muscle memory, it was time to find out if they were worth anything.

He strolled into the alley as if he hadn't noticed them, his movements casual yet deliberate. His heart pounded, his mind rehearsing the techniques he'd learned while his body moved on autopilot.

Behind him, Zidan and Mo exchanged a look.

"He's going down an alley," Mo said, grinning. "I believe he is stupid."

"Who cares?" Zidan replied. "As long as it make our job easier."

Ethan quickened his pace, and without warning, he turned. He was ready to face them.

His heart raced. But to his surprise, it was not from fear. He was excited to test his skills.

"Who the hell are you guys?" Ethan asked. His voice was steady.

He placed his bag on the ground just beside him. Ready to take on these two people in front of him.

"Well. Well." Zidan grinned. He was displaying his yellow teeth fully. "Look at him. Trying to act brave."

Mo stepped forward. He pulled a knife from his pocket.

"What about now? Can you continue your act, kid?" He said while pointing the blade toward Ethan.

He then added, "We know you've got money. Hand it over, and no one gets hurt."

"If I don't want to?" Ethan's eyes fixed on the blade, his mind racing. He searched his memory, trying to recall if the system had given him such a memory—confronting armed opponents.

However, having a memory and facing it in real life were two different things.

'Keep your breathing steady. Quick, decisive action,' Ethan reminded himself as he slowly took a defensive stance.

"Looks like you choose the hard way, kid," said Zidan. He was getting irritated by Ethan's calm behavior.

No longer able to control himself, Zidan then lunged forward as he threw a wide and clumsy right punch. Still, it was packed with power.

Ethan was nervous, but his body moved on instinct. He managed to sidestep the punch... effortlessly.

His hand shot out to grab Zidan's wrist mid-swing. But no follow-up was done.

'Wow! I never knew I could do this!' Ethan marveled at his action.

That brief moment resulted in Zidan delivering a punch with his left hand. It hit his ribs powerfully.

"Damn it!" shouted Ethan.

Zidan was clumsy, but he was not a beginner. He was one of the gang leaders in Novan City, alongside Mo. That was before Lena arrived in the city.

Because of the punch, Ethan released Zidan's wrist. Zidan seized that moment to deliver a spinning back fist to Ethan's cheek. The impact caused Ethan's body to sway sideways.

Ethan shook off the shock, rubbing his cheek as he shifted into a defensive stance.

'Focus,' he reminded himself. 'This isn't just like the memories. My mind isn't ready for this.'

His body moved instinctively, guided by the skills he had learned, but his mind wasn't fully in sync. This was his first real fight, and it felt overwhelming.

'I can't lose now,' he told himself, taking a deep breath. 'I still have too much to do.'

As he exhaled, his nerves began to settle. His focus sharpened, and a new confidence replaced his hesitation. He was ready to face what was coming.

Mo frowned, his eyes narrowing as he studied Ethan's stance. His knife hovered, ready, but he hesitated. "Something's off about him," he muttered, his voice low and unsure.

Zidan let out a dismissive snort, though his bravado felt forced. "Don't be ridiculous. He's just bluffing. Let's teach him a lesson and take everything he's got."

But even as he spoke, a flicker of doubt crept into Zidan's mind. Ethan didn't look like someone acting tough—there was something different, something neither of them could quite pin down.

He lunged again, throwing the same attack pattern as before. But this time, Ethan was better prepared. He sidestepped and grabbed Zidan's wrist. He did not marvel at any of his actions anymore.

Ethan moved with precision, his hand locking onto Zidan's wrist and twisting it sharply.

A howl of pain burst from Zidan's throat. "Arghhh!"

Without missing a beat, Ethan followed up with a powerful elbow strike to Zidan's jaw. The hit was precise and brutal, silencing Zidan instantly as he dropped to the ground.

Mo stood frozen for a moment, shocked at how quickly Ethan had taken Zidan down. But his instincts kicked in. He wasn't about to give Ethan a chance to recover. With a knife in hand, Mo charged forward, slashing with no hesitation.

Ethan stayed calm, his body moving instinctively. He twisted just in time, narrowly avoiding the blade.

"What?!" Mo blurted, his shock clear. He couldn't believe how easily Ethan had dodged the attack. To him and Zidan, Ethan had seemed like an easy target, someone untrained and weak.

Mo acted without a second thought. With the knife in hand, he charged again, faster this time, his movements wild and desperate.

But Ethan had been waiting for this moment. His hand shot out, catching Mo's wrist with surprising force. A sharp twist followed, and the knife slipped free, falling to the ground with a dull clatter.

Before Mo could gather himself, Ethan's knee drove into his stomach with unrelenting force. The blow was decisive. Mo crumpled, gasping, his body folding under the weight of pain and breathlessness.

Ethan took a step back, steadying himself.

"Stay calm," he said softly, to himself . "Stay calm." He repeated the words a few times.

He was trying to control his trembling hands.

It was not because of fear but because of the rush of adrenaline coursing through him. Everything was overwhelming. The system... had changed everything about him.

Only now, he felt he was slowly beginning to understand. 

Unlimited wealth, and now this?

His thoughts raced, 'Maybe the 'Unlimited' in Unlimited System really means limitless potential.'

From the side, Zidan stared at Ethan in disbelief.

"What kind of attack is that?" he muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

"Stop gawking and get him!" Mo barked, pulling himself to his feet and clutching his stomach.

Zidan didn't need to be told twice.

He lunged forward, the knife glinting in his grip.

Ethan reacted fast—too fast to think. He sidestepped just enough and brought his arm up, not to block the blade directly, but to deflect the strike at the wrist. The knife grazed his tracksuit, tearing the fabric, but didn't break skin.

The sound of metal scraping against the brick wall behind him rang out through the narrow alley.

Ethan didn't flinch. His eyes locked on Zidan's, steady. Focused.

Instead, he countered with a swift punch to Zidan's gut, forcing him to double over. Not stopping there, Ethan followed up with a sharp uppercut, sending Zidan stumbling back into the wall.

However, as effective as his moves were, Ethan could feel his strength and stamina waning.

'I'm already exhausted? 'he thought, frustration creeping in.

He believed that his Endurance was able to carry him further. But, a few factors that he forgot to take into consideration were the tension and excitement. These made his movements heavier and more forceful.

These were the main factors why his energy was depleting crazily.

Sounds of grunts and fists connecting with flesh echoed in the alley. Slowly, it became creepier and made the passerby who heard the commotion shiver.

They chose to keep their distance and mind their own business. They hurried past the alley, glancing for a second time.

It wasn't unusual for scuffles like this to happen, and most people knew better than to get involved.

Despite his fatigue, Ethan realized he had the upper hand. Both Mo and Zidan were even more drained than he was.

Their knives had been kicked far out of reach, reducing the fight to raw fists and kicks—a situation that worked in Ethan's favor.

With each exchange, Ethan grew more confident. Since Zidan's initial hit, neither opponent had managed to land another blow. The pressure on Ethan eased, but he reminded himself to stay focused. This wasn't over yet.

Every move Ethan made was fluid and precise—more instinct than thought. And yet, each action left him more shaken than the last.

Mo got up on his feet. His face had twisted ugly with rage. "I'm going to kill you, kid!" he spat. His voice turned ragged.

Ethan's eyes narrowed. He was not feeling the fear anymore. "You chose the wrong target, buddy," he shot back.

In a final surge of motion, Ethan kicked Zidan's head and delivered a punch to Mo's jaw. Both of the men lay on the ground, groaning in pain, their bravado completely extinguished.

Zidan looked up at Ethan. Blood had long trickled from his split lip. His eyes were wide. He was now filled with disbelief and fear.

"W-W-Who the hell are you?"

Ethan stood still. He tried to control his breath despite it coming in short bursts. The fear had long gone after he had been in the battle for a while. He strongly believed that he was stronger than these two.

"I'm someone you guys should not mess with," he replied. "Not me. Not my family."

In reality, he did not even fully understand who he was and what he had become. But one thing was clear—he wasn't the same Ethan who had walked into this alley moments ago.

"Stay away from me and my family," Ethan warned, his voice steely. "This is your first or last warning. The next time, it'll be your lives I'm taking."

Both Mo and Zidan stood up quickly. They did not even notice that their bodies trembled violently. They exchanged terrified glances as they believed Ethan meant what he said.

"Scram!" shouted Ethan.

The two of them quickly dragged their bodies out of the alley. Their conditions were brutal. Bruised and beaten. Scaring the people on the street.

However, another thing was making them tremble. Their fate after they reported this to their leader, Lena Volkov. Somehow, Ethan radiated the same aura and creepiness as hers.

Ethan watched them go.

"That was intense."

He let his body fall to the ground. It was his first fight. A real fight. Surprisingly, he emerged as the victor. But one thing was clear.

He was too weak and just lucky to make it out victorious.

"I need power," he said in a ragged breath. "I need to get stronger."