"Hahaha. . . Hahahaha!", a maniacal laughter formed.
"Serves you fucking right!!!", Ounce truly felt joy.
Sunset was wiped, no longer was that arrogant gang a problem! Currently Ounce was elated to levels he hadn't known before. This was the second time where he indirectly caused a gang to wipe. This time it was one he considered enemy, watching them be helpless and get wiped was truly adrenaline rushing.
Clenching his fists he yelled out with joy. Returning to deliver this good news to his gang, he stumbled into a moving group. Immediately tension skyrocketed as one of the members shouted, "Who the hell are you?!"
Ounce was still healing from his injuries and was in no condition to fight. Raising his hands he spoke in a passive tone, "I'm sorry! Just trying to pass through."
"Yeah fucking right! You think we're idiots!"
"Stop Ryan. We're the ones who walked into him.", someone spoke.
Ryan, the aggressive voice, immediately calmed down. The one who stopped Ryan patted Ounce's shoulder, "Sorry man."
Ounce was surprised but nodded, "I'm sorry too."
Walking past Ounce the group chatted among themselves. Ounce was pleased nothing went wrong, until he overheard a bit of the conversation.
"We can't be picking fights with just anyone. Take a look at that guy! He looked like he just got his ass kicked. No point in fighting against low levels."
Low level?! Who did they think they were talking to?! He was Ounce, leader of a Street gang! He wasn't some random thug who got what was coming. These injuries came from an unfair fight!!
Turning around he asked, "U-Um! Who are you guys?"
One turned around, "Us? We're the Pointed Glasses gang!"
"I-I see, thank you!"
"No problem, stay safe!"
Ounce smiled, but inside he was spitting venom. Pointed Glasses was it? Hope they enjoyed being wiped! He was someone who could send the Street Dogs after anyone! The next target would be Pointed Glasses! That'll teach them for calling him 'low level'.
Already planning on how he was about to go about this, Ounce headed home. This time he needed to be more careful. Word would rapidly spread about Sunset's fall, if another gang tried to take their place, the Street Dogs would only bite harder. Moreover they would get suspicious. If it was ever revealed he was the one spreading the rumors, then the one who would get bitten was him. This rumor needed to be slow spread and hard to trace.
As Ounce was plotting, the young boy has been working hard under Track and Rye's guidance. Rye often watched as the young boy was pushing his body beyond his limits. To call it impressive was an understatement in her opinion.
Each passing day she only grew more certain that this boy was who she was searching for. This unceasing work he put in was admirable. After spending a day of working hard, he would rest the next to allow his body some time to heal. During those days Rye was busy using her ability. The young boy would fight the mannequin again, gaining experience with each death he fell to.
Despite feeling death again and again, the young boy's mental strength failed to waver. Track found this frightening. It was like death itself couldn't phase the young boy. Each time he merely went back to fight again. As the days went past Track felt like the young boy was possessed by something. Always doing as he told, always improving.
As another day passed Rye pulled Track to the side. Her face held confusion and worry, "It's only been a bit. . . but he's beaten the mannequin."
"What? It took me months to get to that point!", Track couldn't believe it.
The mannequin was one of the more difficult simulations Rye was capable of creating. A mannequin that fought with robotic efficiency. A perfect opponent to learn from, but difficult to actually beat. Due to its body you have to beat it until it's unable to move. Even if you were to break an arm, it would fight just as intensely. An unceasing opponent.
Yet the young boy had won despite his earlier one sided fights.
Rye spoke her thoughts, "I was under an impression, but this only confirms it. . ."
"About the boy?"
"Yeah. I think he has some talent in this regard. Even while being beaten I've never once seen him stop watching the enemy. These more recent days he's been able to trade blows."
"Could it be his ability makes him more tuned towards combat?"
"No idea. I feel like this level of explosiveness is really concerning."
"Should we tone it down?"
"I want to. . . but. . ."
"We've already done this much.", Track could get where she was going.
Rye nodded and helplessly sighed, "If he continues growing at this pace, we might have a monster in our hands."
"No worries, we just have to make sure he's raised right."
"I'm not here to be a parent."
"Not asking you to be. His body his seeing some good improvements. I'll probably move onto more physical training. Take a moment to see this improvement in person. Although I'll have to ask you take care of watching him for a bit."
"Why?"
"It's been a while since I've helped out the Street Dogs. Need to carry my weight around you know? Heard Troy's been looking for me."
"Damn gangs. Don't go getting into fights you can't come back from."
"I know my limits."
"Sometimes I feel like you don't.", Rye shook her head.
"I do!"
As those two argue, the young boy was currently reviewing his fight. Each time he took a loss he analyzed the fight in his mind. Each movement the mannequin made, how it responded to his own actions. Even as he trained his physical body, his mind never left those battles. As he undertook the next fight he put to practice his ideas. As the mannequin countered his moves he learned how it moved. Each experience of death didn't hinder his mind. Instead he laser focused on studying the mannequin. Eventually enough fights had passed to where he could undergo constant image battles in his mind to a terrifying accuracy.
This wasn't an ability. The young boy didn't have such luck in that regard. No, this was talent! For some reason the boy's affinity towards combat surpassed that of even strong fighters! It was as if he was born for this kind of thing.
However there was limits to this talent. He was only able to explosively perform thanks to Rye's ability. Even though he experienced death, he was able to return to the simulation with his body in top shape. Essentially giving him infinite retries. Because of this he was able to practice his theories in rapid fashion, leading to his explosive growth.
Another thing, this talent could only do so much. Against ordinary fighters he might excel. Yet in this world, this city, there was abilities that could surpass anyone beyond ordinary. To the young boy, who could only fight well, he would be helpless against some of these abilities.
For instance, Black Iron's ability was a direct counter to this. No matter how much he trained, he wouldn't be able to break past the carbon fiber defense with just his fists. Even Jay's Photon Saber struggled against that carbon fiber.
This was the cruel reality. In order to truly become part of the top, you'll need more than talent. Even if the young boy was a once-in-a-thousand year genius, without a good ability it would be a hard fought battle to stand out.
It wasn't all doom and gloom. If he was able to use this talent, and truly grasp it. There was a fighting chance. This didn't allow him to stand above everyone else. Instead it gave him a tool to stand against those who were blessed with a strong ability. A way to bare his fangs.
What truly made this young boy special, was that through the careful help of Track and Rye, he was touching upon a forgotten art. As he figured out what moves were the most effective and which weren't, the young boy was forming a style. This was the fundamentals of a martial art.
After all the martial arts were lost, the young boy was actually creating one of his own through the constant battle simulations he was put through. To call this impressive. . . it was an understatement. This martial art, it would become his most trusted tool. A weapon he could only rely on in the most dire of times. Even when it proved ineffective, he would still rely on it. Both a crutch and a strong option.
I won't get ahead of myself. Even the strongest martial art would be helpless against someone like Ivak. At the very least, this was incredibly impressive. If only he had an ability to further reinforce it.
Alas fate is cruel, and the young boy had no such options.