Ryan's fists were no longer punching the bag, they were dragging themselves through the air, each strike started to feel heavier as the time passed on.
His form was crumbling, shoulders hunched, hips stiff as he was not able to produce more power. Wrists bending in ways that made his knuckles sting a bit.
But he still kept swinging.
THUD. THUD. THUD.
The sound wasn't crisp anymore—it was dull, like hitting the wet sand. His arms screamed for him to stop, to get some rest.
His breathing turned into a series of gasps that slowly scraped his throat raw, sweat dripped from his chin and splattered on the floor as he kept hitting the punching bag.
His sweat made some dark dots on the mat.
'Why the hell am I still going? My arms hurt, I can't even feel my fists anymore. My body is numb and still?'
Because every punch that wasn't just a punch anymore. It was the smirk of those idiots in the locker room, the way Sophia made him feel, his past flashbacks were still alive in his mind.
The long list of the times he'd stayed silent and suffered every single thing without letting a word come out of his mouth.
Just because he was too small, fat, too weak.
He hit the bag harder, his shoulder joints twisted, the pain was sharp, but he didn't care about it at all.
He hit it again, vision started to blur out at the edge of his eyes. Every blink lasted longer than before, the world narrowed down to the sound of his labored breathing and faint sway of the bag.
Then mid-swing, his knees gave out.
His right fist only bruised the canvas before his whole body collapsed forward.
He hit the mat and lay there, chest heaving, cheek pressed to the cool floor. Eyes started to close slowly, his body didn't listen to him.
A few more shallow breaths before he fell unconscious.
When Ryan's eyes fluttered open, everything felt... slow. His tongue was dry, muscles pulsed with a deep ache that made even breathing feel like a tough challenge.
Something was draped across his face—a handkerchief, faintly damp, little icy and smelling faintly of fabric softener.
He peeled it off of his face slowly as he blinked up at the gym ceiling. The lights were dimmer now, humming softly.
He shifted his head a bit and immediately regretted his decision to do so. Pain flared in his shoulders, his ribs, his thighs.
'Ugh.... this pain's gonna kill me. Training like that surely was a bad option.' he groaned.
He scanned the gym slowly, took his time. 'Where's Arthur? Did he leave me alone to die!? Ryan thought as he laid his head back on the ground.
Before he could sit back up, a loud, sharp BANG! rang out from somewhere behind him.
Then another. And another.
Ryan slowly tried to turn his head a bit, like his neck was full of rusted gears—and froze.
Arthur stood on the far side of the gym, in front of what had once been a heavy punching bag.
Now it was fully shredded, leather hung in limp, ragged strips, stuffing scattered around his feet like snow. The chain above it swayed slightly, clinking against its hook.
Arthur's knuckles were bare, his breathing calm, as if ripping apart the punching bag wasn't a big task for him, like a warm-up.
He unscrewed his water bottle as he took a long, deliberate sip then set it down. His eyes flicked over to Ryan.
Ryan noticed Arthur's gaze as he bit his tongue in shock. 'Ugh... he noticed me.'hiccup!
Arthur looked at Ryan for a good second. "You woke up, huh." His tone was flat, unreadable. Then, a faint smirk appeared on his lips.
"Good work today, meet me at the same time, lil bro." Arthur said, no sympathy in his tone.
He didn't even ask him that are you okay? just that and nothing else.
He grabbed his gym bag and walked out, the echo of his footsteps fading into silence.
Ryan sat there for a while, trying to summon the will to move, his body didn't listen to him.
"He just went out like that? I trained like a crazy monkey out there and even fell unconscious and he still didn't ask me that if I was okay or not? Damn!"
Eventually, he still managed to push his weight up, his joints were protesting with every inch he moved.
A chime of system echoed in his head.
[DING! Quest Complete: Practice with punching bag until you pass out.]
[Reward Available: +2 Strength, +1 Endurance, Boxing Jab Proficiency +20%]
He squinted at the glowing text.
"Uh... how do I... claim this?"
[Host… seriously? You don't even know that?]
The system's voice was a mix of disbelief and irritation.
[You've never read a single fiction novel?]
Ryan gave a weak chuckle to system as he said. "I'm poor, you remember that or no? Fiction's a luxury for me which I can't afford, haha."
[Unbelievable. There's literally an 'option' button at the bottom of the screen. Click it.]
Ryan's gaze quickly shifted down.
'Sure enough...' A glowing button pulsed at the bottom.
'Oh. Uh... thanks for it, I guess.'
He slowly mustered enough strength to tap it.
[Quest: Practice with punching bag – Claim reward]
[Rewards Claimed.]
[Boxing Jab mastery increased to D+]
[Boxing Cross mastery increased to D–]
Ryan leaned his back against a wall, a small, tired smile tugging at his lips.
"Well... at the very least something's getting better and I'm making some progress."