I yelled as I tumbled to the floor. My pulse from Gavin smashing his fist to my face. I got back up and raised my hands. Gavin circled me like a predator. It's been twenty minutes since we started sparring.

  I wiped the small trail of blood from a cut on the side of my head, though it's already closed up. I stared at his chest, a tip he told me mid-fight. Apparently, viewing it allows me maximum awareness of his entire body, so I could potentially see any moves he’s about to do. He raised his left foot, but that was just a feint as he threw a jab at me instead. I blocked it with my wrist and tried to counter with a punch, only for Gavin to shoot up and kick me square in the chest.

  Making me take a couple of steps back.

  “You’re way too predictable! Don’t just keep throwing haymakers!" Gavin said as he moved in.

  He delivered a series of hooks and kicks. I blocked or narrowly evaded them. Dodging and reacting to them was way easier when I sparred with Gavin with his equipment. But these heavy bracelets and the fact that I couldn’t use my other superpowers. I tried to fight back, but his counters and blows are way too sharp for me to land a meaningful hit in. He then grabbed my hair to stop me from moving and delivered a knee to my abdomen.

  I grunted loudly. In fact, if I had eaten earlier, I probably would have lost my lunch, right there. I tried to rip myself away. Gavin's grip was too strong; it didn’t help the fact he started spamming the knees. I roared, having enough, and I managed to throw a jab to his abdomen.

  I heard him cough, making his grip weaken, allowing me to finally get out of his hold. Jumping up so I could deliver a left hook on his jaw and then a right to his temple. This caused him to take a step back, closing his eyes tightly, stunned by my attacks, or at least seemingly. I charged in, but I knew he was fake, being that hurt, as his eyes shot open.

  Before throwing a roundhouse kick. I ducked, and while he was still in a vulnerable position, I hit him in the rib. And then I threw another punch and another. However, I got way too greedy, as Gavin shields my punch with his knee. Gavin then shoved me to gain back some distance before delivering another combo of fast jabs with the same hand.

  I was blocking and holding on as long as I could.

  “Don’t just guard the top!” Gavin said. “Be aware of your bottom, too!”

  Gavin pivoted his body to throw a sidekick that collided with my unprotected abdomen. I was pushed back, coughing for air. I steadied my footing, raising my guard again despite my burning lungs. He darted forward; this time, instead of a hail of fists, he was using his legs. I believe if I remember correctly, he’s doing Taekwondo.

  And it isn’t just random, he’s performing sweeps, axe-kicks, roundhouse, back-kicks. Any kick you can name, and he's doing it so sharply and fluidly. It's almost like his legs are his paintbrush, while Gavin was the artist. He then backs up only to turn around a couple of times before doing another roundhouse kick, but the spin gave it power, breaking my guard. Then he switched to punches again, almost instantly, delivering a powerful uppercut which made me see stars for a couple of seconds.

  My legs were wobbling, and I felt like a man who had way too many drinks. I knew that Gavin was the best fighter I’ve ever faced. Atlas, Paladin and Noah had to bow down to Gavin when it came to hands. Still, I wasn’t going to let him get a win that easily. I took a deep breath and brought my hands to my chin.

  Gavin didn’t rush me this time, to my surprise. Instead, he started swaying. Left. Right. Left again.

  Instead, he started swaying. His upper body moved, swaying back and forth, shoulders rolling, head slipping off-center in a strange rhythm. At first, I thought he was just trying to throw me off or flex on me, making me confused. But I don’t know, something in my gut tells me that I’m cooked. I shook my head and threw a punch.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  I missed it. Not because I was slow, but because he wasn’t where my fist landed. He weaved under it, his head gliding to the side by inches. I tried again, but with a hook—same result.

  What the heck is he doing? His feet shuffled forward while his torso kept swinging side to side. Every time I tried to line up a hit, his head or torso was already somewhere else. I had enough and was about to go for a low kick, but it was too late; he had already moved.

  His shoulder rolled, and a punch slammed into my face. Suffice to say, it hurt quite a bit. His shoulder rolled, and a punch slammed into my head. He did this again, and again, and again. I was too hurt to fight back or even try to block.

  Whatever he’s doing, it was effective. Not only did his punches feel like a wrecking ball that never stopped moving. I finally tried to counter, but my weighted arms felt sluggish. Every time I fired back, he slipped around it and answered with two more.

  He swung one last time to the side, then surged forward with a heavy finishing blow straight to my chest. I got knocked down, my eyes staring at the sky as I tried to regain my breath. My vision spun just as Gavin stood over me, breathing his fists on his hip.

  “That's...” He grinned at me. “What skill look like.”

  I groaned, glaring up at him. “You suck..!”

  He chuckles, sitting down next to me. Gavin clutches his abdomen, wincing a little. I only landed a few hits on him, but it seems I still did a decent amount of damage.

  “What was that?” I asked, referring to the move which he knocked me down with.

  He gets up, stretching, before helping me get up to my feet. He then stepped back and took a loose boxing stance.

  “That move has a name. It’s called the Dempsey Roll. Old-school boxing technique. Famous for overwhelming opponents.”

  He demonstrated slowly. He began weaving side to side again, exaggerating the motion, so I could see better.

  “When I dodged, it wasn't random,” Gavin explained. You shift your weight from leg to leg, rolling your upper body in a pattern. Each weave loads your hips and core like a spring.”

  He twisted his torso slightly. “When you throw a punch from this motion, you’re not just using your arm. You’re using your entire body’s momentum.” Gavin shadowpunched mid-swing.

  I then put my hand to my chin, looking at his moves critically. I could somewhat understand what he’s talking about.

  “So, because of that, it packs more of a punch. And because your head is constantly offline, it’s harder to hit you clean.”

  “So you’re dodging and attacking at the same time?” I say, finally understanding it.

  “Exactly.”

  “But it’s not invincible. Predictable rhythm gets you countered. Bad footing gets you dropped. And if your opponent times you, you eat a fist. Also, since kicks are involved, the Dempsey Roll won’t be as effective in a boxing ring. Then again, I don’t think that move will be really good for you?”

  “Huh, why?”

  “Well, it's because you have…a MINOR problem.”

  “What?”

  “Ahem, you have a LITTLE chance for you to use it properly.”

  “What are you yapping about, you geezer?”

  “Oh for god-! You’re short, Ben! Very short, even as an 11-year-old, you're kind of small. When it comes to boxing, range is king! You don’t have a lot.”

  Oh, so that's what he’s talking about. He has a point. Maybe that’s why I get hit a lot more, because I’m fighting a lot of people who literally dwarf me in size and reach. I mean, size does matter, even though a lot of people on the internet say otherwise. Sure, skill and experiencehelps, but the bigger the better…this is starting to sound wrong.

  “Anyway, what fighting style should I go for then?”

  Gavin scratches his beard. “Well, your offence is like ninety percent punches. Jabs, hooks, straights. You’ve got power, so it works. But it’s limited.”

  I frowned. “Limited how?”

  “You barely use your legs. And I don’t just mean movement. I mean kicks, knees, positioning. Your lower body is wasted potential.”

  Ouch, dude. Why don’t you set fire to my pride? Why don’t you?

  “Finding a specific style for you is tricky. As I said, you’re still small. Some traditional styles won’t fit you yet.”

  I crossed my arms. “So what fits me, then?”

  “Kickboxing and Muay Thai,” Gavin said almost immediately.

  “Kickboxing gives you balanced hands and legs. Clean combos. Good footwork. Teaches you how to chain attacks. While Muay Thai turns your whole body into a weapon. Elbows. Knees. Clinch fighting. It’s brutal, efficient, and perfect for close range.”

  He looked me up and down.

  “You’re quick, durable, and strong for your size. Muay Thai fighters thrive on that.”

  I tilted my head. “So I’m becoming a knee-and-elbow machine?”

  Gavin grinned.

  “Exactly. Add your superhuman stats later, and you’ll be a nightmare to anyone stupid enough to get into your range.”

  I was speechless, before a fire lit in me. I wanted to learn more. Getting stronger as a fighter will lead to being a better hero. A better hero means more lives are saved.

  He cracks his neck. “Now, let's get back to training.”

  “Right!” I say standing backup.