Sparring

"Sir, did I hear you correctly? Are you asking the three of us to spar with him alone?" Eric, eyes wide with disbelief, questioned the older man.

He couldn't fathom that he had understood this directive accurately.

Sparring was, of course, part of the job—this was why they were here. But the dynamic seemed off; three seasoned champions against one? It simply didn't add up.

Kus didn't respond, his focus instead fixed on finding Teddy.

Tyson flashed a slight grin, revealing his bright smile. "You misunderstood," he corrected calmly.

"Not three of you, but five of you," he clarified, gesturing towards Tommy and Teddy.

"What?"

The trio exchanged incredulous glances, as if they'd seen a ghost.

Tyson repeated himself: "Not three of you, but five of you will spar with me."

This was nothing short of madness.

How old was this kid? Seventeen, maybe eighteen? A teenager who believed he could take on five experienced boxers solo? What gall!

"Who does he think he is? Some sort of champion?" Alva interjected skeptically. "Our agreement clearly states we have three hours of practice per day, including rest periods."

Tyson shrugged, "Of course."

"Alright, I'm in," Eric responded tentatively.

The others chimed in agreement, resigned to the unusual arrangement. They were here to earn money, after all—although they were curious how a young kid planned to hold his own.

"Let's get geared up first." Tyson handed protective gear and gloves that Teddy had brought over.

Once equipped, the session began in earnest.

"Teddy, you're up first to spar with me today," Tyson announced, stepping into the ring.

"What the hell? This kid isn't even wearing protective gear! He's using thick gloves—what gives?" one of the boxers exclaimed, brewing discomfort among the trio.

"Is he just here to be a punching bag?" another added. "If he's just going to stand there, I'm leaving."

As Tyson and Teddy prepped for their round, frustration turned into astonishment for the observers.

Both fighters readied themselves, and the bout commenced. Teddy, seasoned from previous training sessions with Tyson, quickly adapted his approach, mixing jabs and strikes while cautiously evading.

When forced into a corner, Teddy retaliated and created distance, and the other three boxer-partners began to grasp the gravity of the situation.

These were not mere sparring sessions; they were intense displays of skill.

Despite Teddy's youth, he demonstrated a level of competence that was both impressive and intimidating.

Tyson dashed forward, fluid and powerful, striking Teddy with a flurry that left him scrambling. Teddy could do little more than defend himself, knowing that any attempt at landing a significant blow could lead to devastating counterattacks.

"This is ridiculous," one of them muttered. "He's clearly scared."

As the rounds progressed, it became evident to the seasoned partners that Tyson wasn't just playing around; he was showcasing artistry in motion, a primal dance of skill and power.

After three rigorous rounds, Teddy's exhaustion was palpable. Sweat dripped down as Tyson signaled for Eric to step in.

Eric, tall and muscular, donned his gear and looked at Tyson with a hint of skepticism. "Aren't you taking a break? It's exhausting, you know."

Tyson simply shook his head, declaring, "Not at all. I'm in great shape."

"Alright, just don't say I didn't warn you," Eric smirked as he assumed his stance.

Before Eric could fully process Tyson's speed, the young boxer was upon him. A swift combination of punches followed, and Eric found himself reeling.

Damn it, he thought, trying to shake off the impact.

The forced rubbery feel of his limbs was sobering. He had protective gear on, yet Tyson's thick gloves were impactful enough to make him aware of every hit.

Gerard, viewing from a distance, whispered, "This kid is incredibly explosive."

As another bout ended, Eric could barely summon strength, desperately trying to keep himself from crumpling.

Tyson, now more focused than ever, began his assault anew, and Eric was left to react. The back-and-forth continued, but soon Eric recognized that his chances were growing slimmer.

With barely two rounds completed, Eric sank to the ropes, unable to continue.

The two remaining sparring partners exchanged anxious glances.

This was becoming far beyond what they anticipated.

Tommy, who stepped in next, managed only two rounds before collapsing in exhaustion, rolling from the ring in defeat.

Alva followed suit, successfully completing barely three rounds before he stumbled down as well.

Finally, Nick, now convinced their strength had waned, prepared himself for battle, believing he could at least fare better than the others. When he finally stepped into the ring, however, the truth of Tyson's relentless energy hit him hard.

How could this continue? Tyson possessed a seemingly unyielding endurance.

Surrendering after two and a half rounds, Nick left the ring defeated.

In total, Tyson completed fourteen grueling rounds with five seasoned fighters, feeling physically drained yet thoroughly satisfied mentally.

Kus, sitting back casually, commented, "Mike, by the thirteenth round, you started to show signs of fatigue. You should be mindful of that; it could lead to bad habits."

Tyson, wiping his brow with a towel, nodded in agreement, taking the critique to heart.

Meanwhile, the other fighters lay recovering, overwhelmed at the challenge posed by a young prodigy.

"Let's take an hour of rest, then we'll begin round two," Kus announced. A collective groan echoed through the room.

"You've got to be kidding."

But relief washed over them when Kus added, "Everyone will only do two rounds this time."

Gradually, the trio lost their initial bravado. Though not professional boxers, they had competed enough to recognize that sparring here was a steep hill to climb.

Three days later, Tyson was in high spirits. His twice-daily sessions, with vigorous rounds between him and his opponents, provided a unique thrill.

Yet each fighter passed through a painful initiation, reclamation of their own doubts, and the urge to quit.

Despite increasing pay to $800 a week, only a handful remained willing to endure the demanding training.

Slowly, word spread across the local boxing community about the relentless force training in the small gym—it was known as a haven for true grit and determination.