The Boxing System: I Became the King of the Ring-Chapter 35: Surviving the Storm

The bell for round two rang loud through the gym. Javier pushed himself up, legs shaking like a newborn calf. His chest felt tight, each breath burning his lungs like he’d been running for miles.

The headgear pressed heavy against his skull, making everything sound muffled and distant. Sweat dripped inside the leather padding, stinging his eyes and mixing with the metallic taste of his own blood.

Danny leaned close, his weathered face serious. "Remember what we practiced. Stick and move. Don’t get drawn into his fight. You hear me?"

Behind Danny, Tommy tried to sit up straighter on the bench. The ice pack slipped from his swollen face, revealing a black eye that looked worse under the harsh gym lights. "Box him, Javi... stay smart..."

His words came out thick and slurred, but his eyes burned with something fierce. Something that said he was still fighting, even sitting down.

Javier nodded, trying to shake the fog from his head. The taste of blood in his mouth was stronger now. His mouthguard felt loose against his teeth.

Antoine bounced to the center, 16-ounce gloves held high in perfect amateur form. His chest protector gleamed white under the lights, barely a scuff mark on it. He looked fresh as round one, like he’d been taking a casual stroll instead of boxing.

The contrast was brutal. Where Javier’s gear was already stained with sweat and blood, Antoine looked like he’d just stepped out of a boxing magazine.

He started with textbook jabs, testing Javier’s reactions. Each punch snapped out quick and clean, perfect form that made the watching trainers nod with approval. Perfect timing, perfect technique.

Javier tried to circle left, using his feet like Miguel had drilled into him during countless training sessions. But Antoine’s footwork was polished smooth as glass. Each step cut angles with precision, herding Javier toward the corner like a sheepdog working livestock.

The crowd pressed closer to the ring, sensing something building. Voices mixed together into a wall of sound that made Javier’s headgear feel even heavier.

[ROUND 2 INITIATED]

[ENDURANCE: 68/100 → 64/100]

[AMATEUR SCORING: ANTOINE LEADING]

The ref stayed close, hands ready to jump in if things got too rough. This was amateur boxing - safety first, always. His eyes never left the action, watching for any sign that one fighter was taking too much punishment.

Javier threw a reaching right hand, hoping to catch Antoine stepping in. The punch carried all his frustration and desperation behind it. Too eager. Too desperate.

Antoine saw it coming from a mile away and ducked smooth as silk. His counter left hook thumped into Javier’s chest protector with a dull sound, then slipped around the padding to find ribs.

Even through the protective gear, pain shot through Javier’s side like lightning. He grunted and gave ground, his footwork getting sloppy.

"Good boxing, Antoine!" Caleb called from his corner, his gold chain catching the light as he gestured. "Stay technical! Make him chase!"

The Bronx crowd picked up the chant, voices blending together. "Tech-ni-cal! Tech-ni-cal! Tech-ni-cal!"

Their confidence was infectious. They could see their fighter was in complete control, putting on a boxing clinic for everyone to witness.

Antoine threw a sharp jab that popped Javier’s headgear back. Javier tried to counter with his own jab, but Antoine was already gone, slipping left and firing a straight right that caught Javier on the temple.

Javier backed up and threw a wild hook. Antoine ducked under it smooth and came up with an uppercut that grazed Javier’s chin through the headgear.

"Come on!" Javier grunted, pressing forward with a jab-cross combination.

Antoine parried the jab with his left glove and slipped the cross, then immediately fired back with a three-punch combo. Jab to the forehead, cross to the cheek, hook to the ribs that made Javier grunt.

But Javier didn’t back down. He planted his feet and threw his best combination yet - jab, jab, right cross. The first jab missed, but the second one found Antoine’s headgear with a clean pop. The cross caught Antoine’s shoulder as he tried to slip away.

"There you go!" Danny shouted. "Box him!"

Antoine nodded, respecting the clean shots. He circled right and threw a double jab. Javier slipped the first one but walked into the second, his head snapping back.

Javier tried to clinch, reaching for Antoine’s shoulders. Antoine pushed him off and immediately attacked with a left hook to the body, right hand upstairs. Both shots landed clean.

The exchange continued. Antoine with a jab-cross, Javier ducking low and coming back with a hook to Antoine’s ribs that made the Bronx fighter step back for the first time.

"Good shot!" someone yelled from the Brooklyn section.

Antoine smiled and came right back, throwing a four-punch combination. Jab, cross, hook, uppercut. Javier blocked the first two but the hook found his ribs and the uppercut grazed his chin, making his knees wobble.

"Relax, Javier!" Danny shouted over the growing crowd noise, his voice carrying the edge of concern. "You’re rushing everything! Slow it down!"

But the gym noise was getting to him. Every missed punch brought louder cheers from the Bronx section, their voices mixing into a wave of sound that pressed against the ring from all sides. 𝒇𝓻𝓮𝓮𝙬𝙚𝒃𝒏𝓸𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝓬𝓸𝒎

"Brooklyn’s learning today!"

"This is a boxing lesson!"

"Show him how it’s done, Antoine!"

"The kid’s got heart, but no skill!"

The voices cut deeper than any punch. They were writing him off, dismissing him as just another tough kid who couldn’t box.

Javier shook his head clear and fired back with desperation. A looping right hand that Antoine saw coming. Antoine ducked and came up with a short left hook that rattled Javier’s headgear.

But Javier kept pressing. He threw a quick jab that caught Antoine clean on the nose. Blood started trickling from Antoine’s nostril.

"Oh!" the crowd gasped. First blood from the Brooklyn kid.

Antoine wiped his nose with his glove and smiled. "Not bad."

He stepped forward and threw a vicious combination. Left hook to the body, right uppercut, left hook to the head. All three punches landed solid, making Javier stumble backward.

Javier’s legs felt rubber. He reached out and grabbed Antoine around the waist, trying to tie him up. The ref stepped in to break them apart.

"Box!" the ref commanded.

They separated and immediately went back to work. Antoine with a textbook jab-cross. Javier slipped left and threw a counter hook that whistled past Antoine’s ear.

Antoine caught Javier with a straight right as he was off balance from the missed hook. Javier’s head snapped back, but he immediately fired back with a desperate left hook that caught Antoine on the shoulder.

The crowd was on its feet now, sensing the intensity building. Both fighters were breathing hard, sweat flying with every punch.

Javier swung wild in frustration, his amateur technique breaking down under the pressure and noise. The punch caught nothing but air, his own momentum carrying him forward and off balance.

The crowd noise swelled at his desperation, some laughing, others shouting encouragement to their fighter.

"Stop chasing!" Vicente’s voice somehow cut through the muffled gym noise, clearer than it should have been. "Plant your feet! Box at your own pace!"

The ghost stood at ringside, more solid than Javier had ever seen him. His expression was intense, urgent, like he was trying to put knowledge directly into Javier’s head.

But Javier’s body wouldn’t listen. His arms felt heavy inside the big gloves, weighed down by exhaustion and the accumulating punishment. His legs moved like he was walking through quicksand.

"Technical boxing!" Danny yelled from the corner, his voice getting hoarse. "Use your jab! Stop swinging for the fences!"

Too late. The frustration had taken over, clouding his judgment and making him abandon everything he’d learned in training.

Antoine stepped in smoothly. He threw a five-punch combination that had Javier covering up against the ropes. Jab, cross, hook, uppercut, hook again. Most of the punches hit Javier’s gloves, but the final hook slipped through and caught him clean on the jaw.

Javier’s knees buckled. He grabbed the ropes to stay upright.

"Stay on him!" Caleb yelled from Antoine’s corner.

But Javier wasn’t done. As Antoine rushed in for the finish, Javier caught him with a perfect counter right hand that stopped Antoine in his tracks. The punch landed clean on Antoine’s chin, making his eyes go wide.

"What a shot!" Danny screamed from the corner.

Antoine shook his head and immediately fired back with a double jab, both landing on Javier’s headgear. Javier tried to clinch again, but Antoine pushed him off and landed a clean left hook to the ribs.

With thirty seconds left, both fighters let their hands go. Antoine threw a combination - jab, cross, hook. Javier ducked the hook and came back with an uppercut that just missed Antoine’s chin.

Antoine immediately countered with a straight right that caught Javier flush. Javier staggered but threw a desperate left hook that grazed Antoine’s temple.

They stood toe-to-toe, trading punches. Antoine with a jab-cross, Javier with a hook-cross. Both landing, both hurt, both refusing to give ground.

The final ten seconds were pure violence. Antoine threw everything he had - jab, cross, hook, uppercut. Javier covered up and fired back when he could, catching Antoine with a clean jab that snapped his head back.

The bell rang just as Antoine was loading up for another big right hand.

Javier’s breathing came in harsh gasps that echoed inside his headgear, each exhale fogging the inside of his protective gear. His shoulders burned from holding up heavy gloves for six minutes of action.

His legs felt like concrete pillars, heavy and unresponsive. Every step required conscious effort, every movement a small victory against his body’s desire to quit.

The bell clanged through the gym, cutting through the noise and chaos like salvation.

Javier stumbled back to his corner, legs wobbling like he’d run a marathon in combat boots. Each step felt like moving through thick mud, his equilibrium shot from the accumulated punishment.

But he was walking under his own power, his chin still up despite everything. In amateur boxing, that mattered. Heart counted for something, even in defeat.

The crowd’s noise followed him back to his corner - some respectful applause for his toughness, some disappointed groans from Brooklyn supporters, and plenty of celebration from the Bronx section.

He’d survived another round. Barely.

**************

Javier collapsed onto the stool like his legs had given out. Blood and sweat dripped from his face onto the canvas below. His chest heaved like he’d run a marathon.

Danny was already there with a clean towel, working fast to clean up the damage. Blood trickled from a cut above Javier’s left eye. His lip was swollen. His nose looked crooked.

"That was better," Danny said, pressing the towel to the cut. "You hurt him a couple times. Saw his legs shake when you caught him with that right hand."

The ring doctor leaned in close, shining a small light in Javier’s eyes. "How are you feeling, son? Any dizziness? Vision okay?"

Javier blinked hard, trying to focus. "I’m good. Just tired."

"What’s your name?"

"Javier Restrepo."

"Where are we?"

"Bronx Boxing Academy."

The doctor nodded to Danny. "He’s alert. One more round, then we check that cut again."

Danny grabbed a fresh water bottle and squeezed some into Javier’s mouth. The cold liquid felt amazing on his swollen lip.

"Listen to me," Danny said, gripping Javier’s shoulders. "You landed some good shots that round. Antoine’s not untouchable. He bleeds just like you."

Javier wiped his face with his glove. Pink water dripped from the leather. "He’s still winning every exchange."

"But you’re making him work now. That counter right hand you threw? That stopped him cold. Do more of that." Danny pressed the cold towel to Javier’s neck. "Let him come to you, then make him pay."

Tommy pushed himself up from the bench, still unsteady but determined. "Javi... you tagged him good with that jab. Saw his nose bleeding..."

The words came out thick, but Tommy’s eyes burned with pride. His friend was fighting back now, not just surviving.

"He’s getting confident," Vicente’s voice cut through the noise. The ghost stood solid beside the corner. "Confident fighters make mistakes. When he drops that left hand, you counter over the top."

Javier nodded slightly, the only sign he could hear the supernatural advice.

"You caught him clean with that jab," Danny continued, checking the time. "Keep boxing smart like that."