The Boxing System: I Became the King of the Ring-Chapter 36: Lesson Learnt

The ten-second warning buzzed through the gym. Danny pulled the stool away and gave Javier’s gloves a final check.

"One more round," Danny said. "Show them what the Brooklyn heart looks like."

Javier stood up, legs still shaky but holding his weight. His face was a mess - cut, swollen, blood-streaked. But his eyes burned with something that wasn’t there before.

Confidence. 𝗳𝚛𝗲𝕖𝕨𝕖𝗯𝚗𝚘𝕧𝕖𝗹.𝗰𝗼𝕞

Across the ring, Antoine bounced on his toes, a small bandage over his nose where Javier’s jab had landed. For the first time all night, he looked like he’d been in a fight.

Both fighters had tasted each other’s power now. The final round would be different.

The final bell rang sharp and clear. Javier dragged himself from the stool, lungs still burning from the previous round. His legs trembled beneath him, but he was standing.

[ROUND 3 INITIATED - FINAL ROUND]

[ENDURANCE: 58/100 → 52/100]

Antoine came out measured, not rushing. He knew he was ahead and just needed to stay smart. He threw a testing jab that Javier slipped, then followed with a straight right that caught Javier’s headgear.

"Good movement!" Danny called out as Javier circled left.

But Antoine cut off the ring, herding Javier toward the corner with professional footwork. He threw a double jab, both finding their mark on Javier’s protective gear.

Javier tried to fire back with his own jab-cross combination. The jab missed, but the cross caught Antoine on the shoulder and spun him slightly.

"There you go!" Tommy shouted from ringside, the ice pack still pressed to his face.

Antoine reset quickly and came back with a three-punch combo. Jab to the head, hook to the body, uppercut that Javier barely avoided by leaning back.

The body shot made Javier grunt, but he immediately clinched, wrapping his arms around Antoine’s waist. The ref stepped in to break them apart.

"Box!" the ref commanded.

They separated and went right back to work. Antoine threw a hard right hand that Javier ducked under, coming up with a left hook that caught Antoine clean on the ribs.

Antoine’s eyes widened slightly. The shot had hurt. He backed up and threw a quick jab to create distance.

"He felt that one!" someone yelled from the Brooklyn section.

The crowd was getting louder, sensing both fighters were digging deep. This wasn’t one-sided anymore.

Javier pressed forward, throwing a combination he’d practiced thousands of times. Jab, cross, hook. The jab found Antoine’s nose again, the cross missed, but the hook caught Antoine on the temple.

Antoine’s legs wobbled for just a second before he recovered. He immediately fired back with an uppercut that caught Javier under the chin, lifting him to his toes.

Javier’s vision blurred, but he stayed upright. He threw a desperate right hand that Antoine slipped, then caught a counter left hook on the jaw that made his mouthpiece rattle.

Both fighters were breathing hard now, six minutes of action taking its toll. Sweat flew with every punch, mixing with the small amounts of blood from both fighters.

"Two minutes left!" the timekeeper called out.

Antoine stepped up his pace, knowing he needed to finish strong. He threw a five-punch combination that had Javier covering up. Jab, cross, hook, uppercut, cross again. Most hit Javier’s gloves, but the final cross snuck through and caught him clean.

Javier staggered backward, his legs unsteady. But as Antoine rushed in to follow up, Javier caught him with a perfect counter right hand that stopped Antoine in his tracks.

The gym erupted. "WHAT A SHOT!" Danny screamed.

Antoine shook his head, clearly hurt by the clean counter. He immediately tied up Javier, buying time to recover. The ref broke them apart after a few seconds.

"Are you okay to continue?" the ref asked Antoine, who nodded quickly.

They came together in the center and started trading. Antoine with a jab-cross, Javier with a hook-uppercut. Both landing, both hurt, both refusing to back down.

The crowd was on its feet now, all loyalties forgotten in the face of pure heart being displayed by both young fighters.

With one minute left, both fighters emptied their tanks. Antoine threw everything he had - combinations, single shots, side attacks. Javier met him shot for shot, his technique breaking down but his will unbreakable.

A wicked left hook from Antoine caught Javier on the jaw and dropped him to one knee. The ref immediately stepped in, beginning the count.

"One! Two! Three!"

Javier’s glove touched the canvas as he pushed himself back up. His legs were rubber, but he wasn’t finished.

"Four! Five! Six!"

Javier stood up fully, wiping his gloves on his trunks. His vision was blurry, but he nodded at the ref.

"You want to continue?" the ref asked, studying Javier’s eyes carefully.

"Yeah," Javier said through his mouthpiece.

"Box!"

Antoine came in looking to finish it, but Javier had thirty seconds of fight left in him. He caught Antoine with a clean jab as he rushed in, then followed with a right hand that grazed Antoine’s chin.

Antoine fired back with a combination, but his punches were wild now, tired from the effort. Javier slipped most of them and caught Antoine with another clean jab.

The final ten seconds saw both fighters throwing leather with abandon. Technical boxing was forgotten - this was pure heart and determination.

Antoine landed a hard right hand. Javier immediately fired back with a left hook. Antoine threw an uppercut that missed. Javier threw a cross that caught Antoine’s shoulder.

The final bell rang just as both fighters were loading up for more big shots.

[SPARRING SESSION COMPLETE]

[RESULT: ANTOINE WASHINGTON WINS]

[EXPERIENCE GAINED: SIGNIFICANT]

They immediately embraced in the center of the ring, both exhausted, both bleeding slightly, both having earned each other’s respect.

"Hell of a fight," Antoine panted, pulling out his mouthpiece.

"You too," Javier replied, barely able to stand.

The gym erupted in applause - not for a winner or loser, but for two young fighters who had given everything they had. This was what amateur boxing was supposed to be about.

Antoine’s arm shot up as the ref grabbed his wrist. The crowd’s cheers mixed with Bronx jeers, but for Javier, it was all muffled.

His ears rang. His mind was blank except for pain and relief.

The ring doctor climbed through the ropes. "Sit down, son. Let me look at that cut."

He examined Javier’s pupils with a small light. "No concussion signs. You’ll need stitches on that eyebrow."

Javier sank onto his stool. He could barely lift his gloves. Blood trickled from his lip. Sweat stung his eyes.

Every bone ached. Every breath hurts.

Danny crouched in front of him with a clean towel. "You made it. I’m proud of you, kid."

Javier couldn’t speak for a moment. He just nodded, biting down on what was left of his pride. His eyes burned, but he wouldn’t cry. Not here. Not in front of everyone.

Antoine walked over, still breathing easy. He bumped gloves with Javier, voice low but respectful.

"Good fight. Next time we face each other again, I expect more from you."

Then he moved on, already unwrapping his hands.

Caleb approached Danny with a smirk, adjusting his gold chain. "Your boy got worked, Danny. Antoine barely broke a sweat."

He paused, then his expression shifted slightly. "What a match though. The kid’s got some serious heart."

Danny laughed, shaking his head. "Yeah, your boy schooled him well. Thanks for letting my kids learn from this. They needed to see what real competition looks like."

"Anytime," Caleb said, his tone warming up. "Hey, you still drink that cheap beer?"

"The only kind I can afford."

"There’s a spot around the corner. Maybe we’ll grab a couple later?"

Danny nodded. "Sounds good. It’s been too long since we talked without trying to one-up each other."

Javier looked for Tommy in the crowd. His friend was sitting up now, holding an ice pack to his face. When their eyes met, Tommy gave him a thumbs-up and a tired grin.

They’d both gotten beaten. But they were both still here.

"You survived," Vicente’s voice drifted in, softer than before. "That’s how you start. Every real boxer remembers their first loss."

Some Bronx kids were actually clapping now.

The hostility had shifted to something like respect.

Danny handed Javier his gym bag and helped him down from the ring. "Today you learned more than you ever could in a win. You’ll remember this one, and you’ll get better."

The gym was noisy, but in Javier’s head it was almost peaceful. A strange, empty clarity settled over him as he walked past the crowd.

For the first time since the bell, he smiled just a little.

Tommy limped up and bumped Javier’s shoulder. "We got smoked, huh?"

"Next time, we give it back," Javier said.

"Bet."

Danny looked at both of them, these two battered kids who wouldn’t quit. "You still got two more sparring matches before Golden Gloves. Think you’ll be ready?"

Javier touched his swollen face. It hurt like hell, but his voice was steady.

"I’ll be ready."

As they walked toward the exit, Javier glanced back at the ring one last time. Swollen and aching, but not broken.

In his mind, he set a simple promise. Next time, I’ll be ready.

Vicente appeared one last time as they reached the door. The ghost looked solid as flesh and blood.

"Now you know what you’re fighting for," Vicente said with a nod. "Good."

The door closed behind them with a soft click.