Boxer Novels & Stories

Zephyr met his attack with Draken, causing a great metal ring to echo. The two of them were sent back by a few steps, before coming back to blows again. “This guy’s trouble! He’s good, too good!” Boxer said, wide-eyed as he observed the battle. Even he knew he did not have the strength to contend with the four Masters, and he was an Agile of level three! Although it was but a level’s difference, the actual difference in power was night and day. Boxer did not have confidence in winning should he engage any of the Masters.

I said mockingly and he grabbed my collar once again. "Are you really testing my patience, huh?! Then call his co-owner! I don't care if Tong is busy! I'm sure his co-owner is here so let him talk to me!" He shouted at my face and that's the moment when I lost it all. I grabbed his hand tightly and slowly took it away from my collar and I can see him flinching but that's what I really wanted to see. This guy seems to think that I'm easy and I cannot afford to give him the wrong idea. Might as well give him a glimpse of what I can do just to kick his ass out of here. I heard some of the spectators gasped because of what they are seeing.

he said and started to laugh along with his minions as if he had cracked a massive joke. "It's not that I am quite young, it's you guys who look quite old. tsk, tsk, you guys should be college seniors, not high school's." the new guy said without any emotions on his face. The guy with that cocky smile raised his eyebrows, gritting his teeth in anger. "You... You newcomer. Do you know who I am? I am Drake. The number one boxer of this school. You dare to mess with me." he landed his fist on the desk with anger building inside of him but the new guy did not even flinch or even blinked.

This was the first time in sixteen years that Oliver managed to hit him. The adrenaline ran through his body like an electric charge allowing him to forget the pain and tiredness for a few minutes. Taking the baton, he began to deliver blows: first on the injured leg; hearing a scream from him, he avoided his fist, hitting his forehead with the rod making it hit the concrete ground.

Just as I reached the end of the penalty box, I kicked the ball lightly into the goal. Walking up to the goal to receive the ball, I recognized a cripple hobbling up the pathway to the field. Rolling my eyes, I grabbed the ball and walked back to the penalty box line furthest away from him. "You know, you chose one of the worst places for a cripple with a busted leg to be. Partially because I don't want to be near a soccer field right now, and because it's on a fucking hill." As I went to kick the ball, I looked up at Connor who had now stopped moving. He was leaning on his one crutch, adjusting his leg's placement. "That was kind of the point."

The boxer’s grin died instantly, and he charged towards Harvey with all his might. Harvey York sidestepped lightly, dodging with ease. The boxer was unable to pull back in time, as his moves were far too heavy. His punch swished past without harming a single hair on Harvey. An icy look on his face, Harvey York seized the opportunity to perform a right uppercut directly on his opponent’s face.

Just a man trying to beat his demons out of his own body. “How long are you going to stand there watching me like a guard nobody hired?” His rhythm never broke. His fists kept landing clean. “Long enough to notice you missed a beat in that last combination.” His fists stilled. He turned. One eyebrow lifted. “You know boxing.” “I know how to bring something down so it doesn’t get back up. Does that count?” A thin smile cut across his face. He took a pull from his water bottle and gestured at the space around them.

"They can only stare from the ledge. After tonight, their muzzles can merely drool for what belongs to your nest." The boxing pit is an ancient art of muscle, psychological dominance, and brutal endurance. A standard challenge runs five marks, each turn lasting two minutes, until one beast stays pinned to the stone for ten seconds. The wolf left standing claims the ridge. Connor has no desire to spend ten minutes smelling Eustace’s sweat. The two males agreed to settle the sand in a single turn.

Alkonyka (aka Dusk in English) responded to the guy. He was big ~ 1.9 meters and 130 kg, plus he knew a little Tae Kwon Do. She was no featherweight ~ 1.83 meters and 62 kg and was far better at Sambo than I was at boxing. What followed was a vicious little beat down where the Big Man ended up sobbing in the fetal position while she berated him.

Or she’s just totally bonkers. The man pauses only long enough to line up another shot. He launches a rear hook, smashing into me with brutal efficiency. My chin falls to my chest as I convulse. The prick holding me loosens his arm, grabs my hair, and pulls my head straight. The boxer moves his head forward, inches from my face. He excruciates me with his eyes. Dark brown eyes … almost black. He punches again, from a short distance.