Chapter 88- Wrestle or Not? part 3

Wilson raised his hands to block all five punches and jumped backwards, but Colt was not going to give any respite. He lifted his right foot and kicked Wilson's chest. The force from the kick forced Wilson backwards against the ropes and he tumbled over the top rope out of the ring.

He fell face first and remained there while the referee began the count.

One... Two.... Three...

Wilson slowly stood up on his feet.

....Four.... Five....

Wilson pulled off his loose shirt to reveal a slim muscular build riddled with scars from claw marks and what looked like cuts from bladed weapons.

The gym members, who currently were the only audience and watched from a distance around the ring, whispered among themselves in awe.

"Damn, look at his body."

"He is so young and he has already gone through so much."

"That's a monkey claw. I recognize it from my brother. He has a scar just like that."

"It must been a big monkey."

"Is he a hunter?"

As the referee counted nine, Wilson entered the ring and flexed his shoulders. His face was solemn as he stared Colt in the eyes.

Colt smirked in amusement.

"Come!" He said.

Wilson did not need to be told. He ran at Colt and swung a right hook at Colt's head.

Colt, big as he was, could have easily blocked a punch like that. Instead, he chose to duck and hit Wilson's right kidney with his left fist.

*Bang*

Wilson grunted and swung a left hook at Colt. Colt ducked under the left arm again and hit Wilson's left kidney. Wilson gasped in pain. His arms drooped and Colt, seeing this opportunity, would not let it go. He took a step back, raised his right leg and kicked Wilson in the chest. The kick threw Wilson to the other side of the ring. He bounced off the ropes and fell face down on the canvas.

"Is that all you got? Is this all your rage amounts to? You look at the innocent punching bag so aggressively and yell at it to die. Then you beat the poor thing up but you can't even take a little beating? Pitiful, don't you think?" Colt said.

Wilson tried to stand up but his arms gave way as he soon as he tried to lift himself up with them.

The scrawny old ref began the count.

One.... two..... three....

..four.... five.... six....

Wilson raised his elbows again. His palm firmly planted on the canvas and with a grunt, he pushed himself up using his hands.

..Seven... Eight...

Wilson finally stood up on his feet. Another bout of conversation were already going on around the ring.

"He should have just stayed down. At least, then he would not have to get beaten up some more."

"Yeah, but thinking about the bet they had, I don't think I, for one, would like to become someone else's slave, yeah?"

"He will end up becoming the slave all the same. Is it not better to do it in a relatively better physical condition?"

"I guess. After all, Colt's punches are heavy and he just got two consecutive shots to the kidneys."

"Exactly what I'm saying. At this point, the kid would not only lose but he will have to visit the hospital for sure."

"Yeah!"

"What I am even bothered about is how come he has not yet puked his bloody organs out?"

The other self-appointed commentators immediately agreed with the latter.

"Yes, like how come he ain't spat blood yet?"

"This kid seems to have got more resilience than we initially gave him credit for."

"Do you think it is all just a part of the infamous masochistic tendencies..."

"You mean like 'Mad Hat'?"

"Maybe."

"That's also possible! I mean the kid's punches are not particularly sloppy but it does not seem to come out with full potential and.."

"..and they are too simple. Too predictable. Such simplicity would never work on wrestling vets like Colt."

"Precisely. I mean, come on. Colt was once the kingdom's wrestling champion of the single's category, successfully defending for three consecutive years before retiring."

This piece of news shocked the listening audience.

"Really?"

"Oh my!"

"I really did not know."

"And to think I nearly offended him once!"

The commenting and cheering went on outside the ring while the fighting continued in the ring. Colt was smirking and bounced on the canvas a little, as he taunted Wilson.

"Come on, kid! What? Are you already chickening out?"

Wilson did not respond. Instead, he looked at the huge Colt from head to toe and did his best to come up with strategies to defeat this his towering, experienced and very skilled opponent. He could not come up with any. To make matters worse, his limbs were threatening to give way. They were not used to this kind of situation. He had already experienced frostbite, limb restraint and numbness from defending powerful blows but never the numbness from being beaten up. Usually he would already be knocked out in a few hits and would be unable to move, but not today. Today, his mind was still conscious but his body was fast falling unconscious, against his will, obviously. All he could think of as motivation to fight was the paid membership he would get as a reward.

Colt paused and looked at Wilson solemnly, then said:

"Okay, fine! If you are going to just wait there, I will come to you."

And with that said, he made the same disappearing move as earlier and appeared right before Wilson, his fist already below Wilson's chin.

*Crack*

Wilson's jaw cracked as he was sent flying out of the ring. He was unconscious before he even landed; which was probably for the best as it helped Wilson avoid yelling out in pain and in return, causing him more pain.

"Ooooooh!" The audience oohed in a phantom expression of pain before whistling and clapping in praise of the winner of the duel; Colt.

Only the referee had the mind to go and check on the wasted and unconscious Wilson.

"Hey! Are you alright? Quick, call the ambulance! This one is totally out!" The referee yelled at the audience at the gym but he was still the one who took out his phone and called the street's hospital help line.