Romans & histoires Webtoons The Boxer

He sighed, sweat dripping from his forehead. “I’m okay, Zach. These don't give pain at all.” He replied, his words broken. Nat was a native Spanish just like me, but his English was quite interesting to hear. “Deus is quite an influential, no?” “He is. But he had angered that boxer.” He leaned back on the couch as I patched up his injuries with a bandage. Several tattoos lingering on his bulky chest. “Proud of that boxer though.” I chuckled, feeling somewhat proud for the unknown human.

The boxer blocked most of it but one of Jax’s punches got through and the guy staggered. Then the boxer countered with a hook that Jax caught on his forearm instead of his face. I heard the crack, saw Jax’s face twist, but he didn’t stop. He kept swinging until the boxer finally backed up a step, shaking his head. “Enough,” the boxer said, spitting on the sidewalk. “Two against one ain’t my style. You kids have fun explaining those bruises tomorrow.” He turned and walked off like nothing happened, just another Tuesday for him. Jax stood there panting, holding his right hand against his chest like it hurt bad. “You okay?” he asked me, voice rough.

He weaved under a flashy cross, returned a compact counter-cross; his arm arced and the end of the motion slashed outward as a prayer against the stage. “Pa-do Chagi!” This time, the wave kicked through air. The sweeping leg rose with intent; the kick carried more than muscle, it carried the certainty that someone would not be moved. A concussive shock rolled from Joonwoo’s boot and hit Choi Row like a gust through a curtain. The boxer stumbled, the crowd inhaled as one.

He pulled it out and a velvet curtain of black ichor poured out of the puncture wound. With another, louder roar, he snapped off the spike. Blood (I’m guessing that’s what it was since it was blue and thin as water) spouted in a fountain, spraying wildly as Comfort roared in return. Cheng had fallen to the ground and stayed there. Mandy screamed for him to get up. In a movie, the boxer hits the mat and is seemingly out for the count until a loved one (a child, a wife, a trainer in a porkpie hat) begs him to get back on his feet. And they do. Then they go on to win the fight, somehow.

Jaxson complimented. “Thanks. Are you an a-actor?” “And what happened to your face. Did someone hit you?” he asked worriedly seeing the light scars. “No I am not an actor and I am a professional boxer. These scars I got in yesterday match.” “Is it?” Noah surprised. “Yes, do you know what’s boxing?” “Yeah, I know. My mom told me a-about that. Two people threw punches at each other and who’s strong will win.” “Is it too t-tough to play those sports?” Noah questioned.

But in their absence, I would swiftly hand over my possessions whenever Taylor demanded them. This situation led me to join a gym during my teenage years. It all began after watching a TV interview with a famous boxer who shared that he initially learned boxing as a way to defend himself against bullies at school. Through consistent workouts in the gym, he eventually pursued a career as a professional boxer. I didn't aspire to become a boxer, but I wanted to be able to defend myself when I was alone. One statement from the boxer resonated with me. He said, "These kids were the same size and height as me, but the only difference was that they had muscles, which gave them stamina. They took ad

I plead, but recieve no reply, and simply get pushed down on the sofa in the living room, in front of the television. Amber looks at Liam and lets out a deep breath. "Okay, you feeling okay, Soph? Everything fine?" she asks and I groan. "Just tell me." I demand and she nods, moving to the side, and then turns on the television. Axel. On BBC, there's a picture of Axel, leaving a building that looks a lot like a gym, and there's writing that says:"NEW CHAMPION: MEET THE BOXER WHO HAS BEATEN THE BEST FIGHTER IN THE WORLD!"

I inhaled slowly. "I know. I actually came to quit." The words felt bitter leaving my mouth. I could see the surprise move across his face. Since seventh grade, he had known me as the girl who tugged at him day and night about joining the boys. He had never once seen me give up. This was shocking to him. Truthfully, it was shocking to me as well. "You want to quit boxing?" he repeated. I nodded. "Yes. And I am serious this time." I pulled out the gloves I had bought when I was thirteen, the ones I had saved up for with plans to wear them the day I became a professional boxer. I held them out to him. My heart grew heavier with every second, as though I was physically handing my dream away.

Sebby screams. I charge at the boxer. I’m smaller than him, and I weigh a whole lot less. But by getting low and diving at his knees, with the element of surprise on my side, I actually manage to knock him over. It helps that he trips over Sebby’s outstretched legs on his way down. He falls hard on the pier. I’m punching and pummeling every inch of him I can reach. With his good leg, Sebby rears back and kicks the boxer right in the face. I jump up and kick him several more times for good measure.

The boxer came forward, slow, cocky, dragging his feet like she wasn’t even worth the effort. Elena’s breath came fast. Her heart thundered. He threw a lazy punch toward her face. She ducked. Missed. He laughed. “Cute,” he said. “But you’re in my world now, little girl.” Elena didn’t answer. She kept dodging. Kept moving. He threw another punch. She slid under it. Another. She ducked low, crawling between his legs. The men howled with laughter. Even the boxer chuckled, turning around. “You think you’re smart, huh?”