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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 · 竞技
分數不夠
98 Chs

15

Marcus was finishing his beer while he watched the back of the boy heading back to the fight. He had to recognize the boy's talent, but also his courage. Although if the other boy knocked him down, he would be in trouble. These were the former champion's thoughts until he saw the position Mouse was in.

This time he didn't raise his guard as if covering himself with both forearms like all the rookie fighters did. He stood on his side, with his legs apart and his left hand half-flexed forward, his right arm ready.

Marcus started to laugh. It was the same position he had used during the fight. Normally, with such a pronounced difference in reach, that position would be suicide, but if your opponent not only grabbed you but didn't plan a fight with blows, it wasn't such a bad idea. Had that brat calculated so much? Was he imitating him or did he really understand what he was doing?

The demonstration came in the first seconds, Rompehuesos charged to catch him but with his guard open the combination of two jabs and a straight punch from Mouse hit him square in the face stopping the attack. The jabs had technically been crap, a cheap imitation, but they connected, the straight punch needed to be more at distance since Mouse threw it while taking a step back so as not to fall into his rival's arms when entering the distance.

Those punches would not knock Rompehuesos down but they scored points, and they also made the bully more and more desperate. Those weak left punches were mosquito bites but those right punches were something else. How could a tadpole hit so hard?

The seconds passed and Mouse moved and avoided him by connecting jabs, kicks to the leg and some straight punches. Rompehuesos could continue, but at this rate he would lose this round and the fight, his chances of getting an invitation to the Hurricane. He could not afford it. He had to do something, no matter what.

The problem with a real fight, a real fight as opposed to fantasy, is that both fighters can think, learn, and react to each other's plans. And desperation sharpened his wits, those punches wouldn't knock him down, he could take risks.

Bonebreaker charged head on, the two jabs hit Bonebreaker's face, one on the cheekbone and the other on the nose, which began to bleed, but he didn't back down, he continued to face the weak boy's punch head on. His lip split again in the same place, blood filled his mouth, even one of his teeth seemed to have bent inwards, he half pretended to faint and back away.

Mouse had no intention of going into a barrage of blows again, but his opponent's legs failed him a little, his eyes took on that unfocused look and he launched into a close-range combination with two body blows and an Uppercut, but he didn't manage to land the last blow.

Mouse's nose almost broke from the headbutt Rompehuesos gave him and he took two steps back, in pain and surprised by the counterattack. At that moment the bully launched himself against his body again with all his strength, lifting him up and knocking him down.

Marcus had seen the whole play, he was about to shout that it was a trap, but the boy's blow came quickly, it hadn't been with much power, but enough to make Mouse retreat. He had become blinded by victory and had let his guard down. Deep down he was a child, he needed thousands of fights behind him to understand that, but when Bonebreaker knocked him to the ground, Marcus believed that this boy would not have any chance of learning it.

On the ground, the sore legs didn't matter, the postures didn't matter, the tactics, if the other started hitting you the chances of surviving were few. Mouse's back was on the ground, it wasn't enough to change the count that was clearly in his favor, but everyone, spectators, judges, VIPs, referee, Fang, even the former champion gave up the fight.

Everyone thought he was going to lose at that very moment, everyone except Mouse, the little lucidity that the headbutt had left him was focused on his legs. Somehow, some way, when he was knocked down, his right leg didn't end up between Bonebreaker's legs; somehow, when his body hit the canvas and his rival hadn't yet gotten up to dominate him and hit him, it had gone to his rival's right, towards the same leg that he had free.

Mouse was small, with a nervous constitution and a thin body. Bonebreaker could be bigger, taller, but the malnutrition of the poopers didn't allow him to have an abysmal weight difference with Mouse, a little more of course, but not enough.

In the blink of an eye, the boy who everyone predestined to receive a beating on the ground that who knows if it would kill him had escaped and had won the back of Bonebreaker. If he had known how to do it, he would have immobilized him, or forced him to surrender, but Mouse didn't know how, so he did the best thing he could think of, he kicked the surprised and incredulous Bonebreaker in the head.

Fang had his mouth open, even Nimus Blacker who was among the VIPs was surprised, but Marcus was laughing out loud.

"I didn't expect that, this kid is something special..."

There were only ten seconds left to finish the Round, Bonebreaker got up but the slippery kid was already out of range and back on guard. The bully tried again but only managed to get the kid to connect three punches in a row and get away. The referee blew the whistle for the end of the Round, the fight was over, the entire audience came out of their stupor and the judges proceeded to discuss the score. It wasn't that it wasn't clear that he had won the Round, the problem was the amount the kid had bet, five thousand salaries was already a significant amount in a place like that.

However, all doubt was removed when Marcus approached the table, a look from Marcus was enough to clear any intention of rigging the result.

The referee declared Mouse's victory and he was able to leave the ring. The atmosphere in the place was bustling, the few who had bet on Mouse were exultant. However, Rompehuesos' sponsor was not happy, he climbed into the ring and grabbed the boy by the hair, dragging him out. After throwing him to the ground, he began to crush his head with his feet. The brains and the bloody corpse were left in the middle of the room, but not a single person moved a finger, no one gave a glance at the death of a child. They were nameless scum who lived cleaning up shit in the basement of the station, no one cared about them.

Would Fang have killed him if he had lost and survived the fight? Mouse had no doubt. By the time he sat down at the table, the spicy rat stew was waiting for him. The boy was licking his lips in anticipation, his opponent's death had not quenched his hunger either.