"Prepare, the fight will start on my signal!" The trainer announced, and both Ray and the muscular guy stood in the ring. The trainer looked at them both and hesitated for a moment.
Ray stood with his hands in his pockets and a slight tilt to his head; there was no fighting stance, no technique; he was standing still.
'What is that boy doing...must be some absolute newbie,' the trainer couldn't help but think, "Silver-fed rich kids these days, thinks everything revolves around your dad's money.'
The trainer glanced at number 53, a subtle smile forming as he whispered, "Crush him, he is gonna be a good client."
Ray caught that something was going on, but he didn't seem bothered. "Are you gonna start today?" He asked nonchalantly.
"Ah, yes...cough, cough." The trainer pretended to clear his throat, then raised his arm in the air, "Start the battle!"
Ray cracked his neck as his opponent dashed towards him with a circular side punch, body rotated and his hand swung in a sync, almost a perfect movement...but the attack didn't land on anything as Ray wasn't even there.
"Looking for something?"
Ray's voice rang behind him. The red-haired boy turned around to see a kick, stopping just an inch from his face. Everyone in the audience was surprised, and Max just smiled.
"He moved so fast, what technique is he even using?" Someone sitting next to Max asked.
"Whatever it is. If we are looking at striker vs striker, then boxing will come on top." Another one replied.
"I will agree to disagree!" Max joined in, being the nerd he was; he couldn't exactly sit idle in an intellectual conversation. "When it comes to speed and power, boxing, grappling, and kokushen karate are all good on their own, but none of them is useful when you can't hit your opponent."
"The blonde guy is using Modern Taekwondo, a solid combination of speed, strength, and reach. Naturally, he has an advantage, not to mention the guy using it happens to be a freak on a whole other level."
Everyone weirdly looked at Max, who was glazing for Ray. An awkward silence fell, and Max looked back into the ring.
"I'll give you a second chance, try again," Ray said, retracting his kick back. The red-haired candidate stepped back and dashed again with a round kick. But Ray's only moved straight, and both kick intercepted each other.
"Noob, it seems the difference in our physical stats is too big; you can't even see my attacks." Ray mocked, "But don't worry, I am very generous, as I shall announce every move before I hit. What do you think of that? "
"Don't fuck with me, you bastard!" The red-haired rage to attack. Ray stepped back, his hand still in his pocket, and, he dashed forward, "Axe kick," he said, and spun his body 360 degrees before hitting his opponent's calf. It was a clean strike, followed by a crackling sound. His opponent groaned in pain, but Ray didn't stop there.
"Vertical Kick!" He casually walked close and another vertical kick aimed for the chin, "Modern taekwondo: Triple kick", followed by three consecutive kicks to the knee, solar plexus, and chest, each faster than last one.
It all happened within a matter of a few seconds. Ray had hit all nerve points, and his opponent stood paralyzed, like a dummy.
"What's happening...I...I can't move!" The red-haired froze in place, watching Ray prepare for the next attack. For him, Ray was like a charging predator; he was a weak prey waiting to be devoured. He couldn't help but ask, "Just what the fuck are you?"
Ray casually walked to the corner of the ring, and looked back with a smile, "Me? I am the main character!". He ran full speed and jumped, more than five feet up in the air, his body spun twice, before he put every ounce of momentum into one kick.
"Taekwondo's iconic,540 kick!" A solid kick landed on his opponent, so strong that the sheer force of impact sent him off the ring, unconscious.
"Number 53 is out, 54 comes in," Ray announced with a smirk, while the trainer stood there frozen, his lips quivered.He hadn't expected someone like Ray to appear in this place.
The spar continued for another hour or so, and there was one predetermined result: Ray won 28 times before no one wanted to spar against him. Naturally, the trainer tried to cover things up as Ray left the ring.
"It wasn't that hard, was it?" Ray asked as he walked to the exit. Max followed after him, "Not that hard when you are almost indigo tier." Max's reply was calm and analytical.
"When did you reach that stage?" Max asked again, as they both headed to the office for a refund. The academy's objective was simple: they used their popularity to attract students, and in demo sessions, they employed an underhanded method to deceive students, making them believe they were utterly weak, which would naturally make them their primary customers.
Of course, with an anomaly like Ray, things didn't quite go as planned. And now there were more students lined up for a refund than usual.
"I didn't break through yet, but I need to soon." Ray said in a serious tone, "And to be honest, you should also start cultivation, your natural strength can take you only so far."
Max nodded in agreement; there was nothing he wanted to say, so he just looked at the long line for refunds, preparing for chaos. Ray, on the other hand, kept walking ahead. Naturally, he didn't want to waste any time on 4000 nits. "Max, I know you'll probably never ask for it, but if you do need any help, know I am always here. Just make sure we make it to the NSDR together!" Ray extended his hand for a fist bump.
"Tsk," Max chuckled, bumping back, "Don't worry much about me, you know I will find my way around."
Ray smiled back as he left in his car, and as soon as he did, Max's expression changed to serious, as if he had never been smiling before. He joined the refund line and stood there, waiting for his turn to come.
Social dynamics in this world had changed since the first breach of the dungeon. At first, humans struggled; they suffered under wars and attacks from alien species until they finally figured out human evolution.
It took two hours for Max to get those 4000 nits back; he left the academy grounds, slowly moving towards the bustling city. It was six in the evening, but the sky was still faintly lit, long skyscrapers piercing through the black clouds. And flying vehicles are completely taking over the skies.
The roads were bustling, and every wall and corner was filled with holographic advertisements. Dogs? Cats? These creatures are often limited to reading about them in books; nowadays, almost every other person has a spirit animal of their own.
Most of the time, when Max read about the world before dungeon breaks, he always admired living in that kind of world. But deep down, he knew reality was different; this world was ruled by the strong, and being weak was a terrible burden.
Max stopped before a shop with crystals and cores written on it. He hesitated for a bit, then entered. To the first receptionist table, filled with bluish white crystals of different intensities and sizes.
The other part of the shop was filled with fancy ornaments and colorful beast cores, something Max wasn't interested in at the moment.
In this world, there were few ways to become strong; one was through training in martial arts, another was using beast crystals, and the third, most important, was the cultivation technique. And the only way to train in cultivation technique was to use the mana crystals.
"How much for the basic tier?' Max asked nonchalantly.
"4500, sir," the receptionist responded as fast.
Max bit his lip; he didn't even dare to bargain, so he left the store. He was 17—nearing 18—but he already understood one harsh truth about this world that most refused to admit.
The world belongs to the strong. The weak survive only at the mercy of others.
That was Earth in the 22nd century. It didn't matter what your passion or profession was—if you weren't strong, you were waiting to die. That's why Max wanted to enroll in military training like everyone else, turning 18.
A person's aptitude determines their rank. Their rank determined their future. Parents invested in mana crystals and techniques to give their kids a head start. Rayan had multiple techniques and an enhanced body. Even the poorest individuals could afford basic fighting manuals.
Max had none of that. Since the passing away of his parents, Max was barely making a living on government allowances.
He walked through the bustling streets, slowly transitioning into the slum-like neighborhood where he lived. Rayan's suggestion made sense for someone like him, but it wasn't practical for someone like Max.
"Should I just sell a kidney or two?" Max pondered out loud, just when he heard some movement from behind, as if someone was following him.
That's when he heard something in the air—movement.
Thud!
Too late to react—a fist-sized stone smashed into his face. Max collapsed, clutching his bleeding nose.
"Yo! Look who it is! Guess which brat showed up? Hahaha…" came the mocking voice of the man who threw the stone. Max reorganized this voice; it was none other than that academy's trainer.
Tall but lean, with three others behind him. One of them was the red-haired Max, who sparred against.
Max looked up. Each one had a wristband—three were violet, and the trainer in the center had a blue lighting band.
"Ahh Shit… I knew they were impersonating". Max tried to get up. "What the hell do you want?"
SLAP!
A hard slap sent him crashing back to the ground.
"Oh-ho! You think you can ask us questions?" one of them jeered. "After the shit you and your golden ass friend did with us?"
The trainer grew angrier, almost as if his head would burst.
Then the red-haired man held Max by his hair, "You must be thinking what you did, didn't you? What was your mistake? Wasn't it the golden-haired brat we lost against?"
"And honestly speaking, you aren't wrong, but the thing is, your golden friend is too rich for us to catch around in an alley, so we thought, why not use you as the punching bag to relieve our frustration?"
All of them burst into laughter. As soon as the red-haired guy completed his sentence, he slammed Max's head against the floor.
'These assholes…, Max cursed in his mind. He could feel the blood leaking from his forehead. "Fine… you can have that money."
"Huh?" The bullies were caught off guard. "Money?"
The trainer raged furiously and charged at Max with a kick. Max tried to block, but the gap in strength between them was just too much. The trainer kicked again and again, roaring in frustration, "Didn't you hear? We are here to just beat the fuck out of you!"
Max turned, staring at them. He tried to form a plan, but there was just no way he could come up with anything to beat them. All of them were at least violet tier, in comparison to Max, who hasn't even awakened yet. Not in a million years could he fight back.
"Now then, why don't we start by opening all your clothes?" The trainer sneered, and everyone else laughed.
Max, on the other hand, was still trying to regain balance; this wasn't the first time this had happened to him. And likely not the last. "I will do it, I will do what you say!"
Max stood up, bleeding from his nose and head, and he slowly opened his T-shirt and trousers. For a moment, Max's shamelessness took them aback.
"I said all of your clothes!" The red-haired guy shouted. Max didn't even try to resist, as he began pulling down his underwear.
"Son of a bitch." A heavy kick slammed into his shoulder, nearly knocking him over.
"How dare you try stripping in public, you perv!" the trainer laughed, his friends following suit. Another kick landed on Max's ribs.
"I… "Max tried to say something, but the words choked in his throat. Rage boiled inside him.
"I'm going to kill you all!" he shouted, grabbing the same rock he was hit by, and he attacked with full force.
"Too slow," the trainer sneered, catching his arm and slamming Max onto the pavement like a rag doll.
'Cough!'
Blood spurted from Max's mouth. Winning had never been an option. And nobody was coming to save him. Not the police. Not the administration. Not that they didn't know of these crimes or couldn't stop them, but they didn't want to.
One of the trannies charged and kicked Max again, sending him flying against a wall. The rest joined in, raining down kicks like he was nothing more than trash.
Max didn't move. He played dead. He didn't know how long it was, fifteen minutes? Maybe half an hour. Eventually, they got bored and left. But Max didn't even notice the moment the beating stopped—he was too numb.
Max didn't know when it started raining, but he could feel the cold water hitting his body. He slowly stood up, with the support of the wall, and dragged himself to his old house.
He climbed up to his room, but it was all dark. He turned a few switches, but nothing worked; the electricity was out, likely due to the rain. Max couldn't hold on any longer; his final step, he could feel the bed beside him before he dropped unconscious.
'So much for asking… why should I be strong…' he chuckled in his head. He tried to get up. Somehow, he managed to stand. Limping, battered, and broken, Max dragged himself back to his small, cramped home.