Aiden Frost's ascent to fame was nothing short of meteoric. Fight after fight, he dispatched his opponents with an ease that dazzled spectators and left promoters scrambling to capitalize on his star power. His victories were precise and ruthless—knockouts in the first or second rounds, giving the media plenty to rave about. Soon, Aiden was on every major sports channel, his smug grin plastered across screens and magazine covers, feeding off the limelight like a man born for it.
Meanwhile, Jack watched from the sidelines, grinding through his training sessions with Derrick and Diego. Despite his efforts to improve, frustration gnawed at him as Aiden's name became synonymous with success. The younger fighter seemed to embody everything Jack was not: flashy, cocky, and effortlessly dominant. What made things worse was the press constantly comparing the two fighters. Pundits claimed Jack's style lacked polish and that he couldn't compete with someone as talented as Aiden.
During post-fight interviews, Aiden would smirk and drop subtle digs aimed at Jack:
"Some fighters are stuck in the past, still swinging like they're in a street brawl," Aiden said when asked about his competitors. "This is the big leagues. Not everyone's cut out for it."
Jack tried to block out the noise, but it was impossible. His phone buzzed with notifications—former underground fighters mocking him, reporters asking for comments, and fans taunting him online. The weight of the ridicule settled like a stone in his chest.
Aiden didn't stop there. After his latest victory, Aiden addressed the crowd with a cocky grin, pointing directly at the camera.
"Jack? If you're watching, this sport ain't for guys like you. You've gone soft, old man."
The taunt hit its mark. Jack's vision blurred with rage as he watched the interview replay over and over. No amount of Diego's wisdom or Derrick's discipline could quiet the storm brewing inside him. Aiden had made it personal, and Jack found himself teetering on the edge of obsession, desperate to prove him wrong.
---
Two weeks later, Jack and Diego attended one of Aiden's fights. The arena buzzed with energy, fans chanting Aiden's name as if he were a rock star. The fight lasted less than two rounds—Aiden dismantled his opponent with clinical precision, leaving no doubt about his skill.
When the fight ended, Jack's fists clenched involuntarily as he watched Aiden bask in the applause. His rival strutted around the cage like a king, soaking in the adoration. Jack's blood boiled. He had come here hoping to learn something, maybe even to cool his anger. But all it did was ignite his fury.
As the crowd began to thin, Jack pushed through the arena's corridors, his mind racing. Diego trailed behind, sensing the storm building in his protégé. Jack had seen enough—Aiden needed to be put in his place, and he wasn't going to wait any longer.
He found Aiden in the fighters' lounge, surrounded by reporters and fans. The smirk on Aiden's face widened as Jack approached.
"Well, well," Aiden said, loud enough for everyone to hear. "If it isn't the underground legend himself. What brings you here, Jack? Looking to learn a thing or two?"
Jack's jaw tightened, his muscles coiled with tension. "I came to see what all the hype's about. Turns out, it's not much."
The reporters leaned in, sensing a story. Phones came out, cameras rolling.
Aiden grinned, clearly enjoying the attention. "Funny. I thought you'd be too busy trying to keep up with us pros."
"You've got a lot to say," Jack growled, stepping closer. "How about you back it up?"
The tension in the room skyrocketed. The crowd gasped as the two fighters stood nose-to-nose, their tempers boiling over.
"Anytime, anywhere," Aiden whispered, his grin never wavering. "But you already know you don't belong here."
Without thinking, Jack shoved Aiden, sending him stumbling back into the wall. Reporters shouted, fans scrambled, and security rushed in to break up the altercation.
"Fight me now, Frost," Jack snarled, struggling against the guards holding him back. "Let's see how tough you really are."
Aiden just laughed, brushing himself off. "Not tonight, old man. I'd rather you stew in your own failure a little longer."
The guards hauled Jack out of the room, and Diego followed silently. Jack's heart pounded in his chest, adrenaline coursing through him. But as the anger began to ebb, shame crept in. He had lost control, playing right into Aiden's hands.
---
In the car ride back, Diego's silence was louder than any lecture. Jack knew what was coming.
"You let him get to you," Diego finally said, his voice calm but firm. "That's exactly what he wanted."
"I couldn't stand there and do nothing," Jack muttered, still simmering with frustration.
Diego shook his head. "You think this is about proving something to Aiden? If you keep chasing him like this, you'll lose everything—your focus, your career, Lena."
The words hit Jack harder than any punch. He slumped back in his seat, staring out at the passing city lights.
"You've got talent, Jack," Diego continued. "But talent alone won't save you if you keep letting your pride drive you. You need to decide—are you here to fight Aiden, or are you here to fight for yourself?"
The question lingered in the air, heavy and unavoidable. Jack knew Diego was right. If he didn't get his emotions under control, Aiden would destroy him—without ever needing to throw a punch.
The gym buzzed with the sounds of punches hitting pads and the grunts of fighters pushing their limits. Jack wiped the sweat from his brow, barely registering the people around him. His mind was consumed with thoughts of Aiden Frost—the rising star whose taunts haunted him. The frustration gnawed at Jack's focus, spilling into every part of his life, especially his relationship with Lena.
After weeks of distant conversations and unspoken tension, Lena finally broke the silence the night before.
"You're never really here, Jack," Lena said, her voice low but steady. "It's like you're obsessed with proving something."
"I am," Jack snapped, regretting it the moment the words left his mouth. "This fight... It's everything."
"It's not just the fight. It's Aiden. He's in your head, and you're letting him ruin everything we have." Lena's gaze was sharp, filled with frustration. "I need more than this."
Jack clenched his jaw. "I'm doing this for us. You know that."
"Are you?" Lena asked, folding her arms. "Because it feels like you're doing it just to hurt him, not to grow. And it's killing us."
Her words echoed in Jack's mind as he stood in the gym now, distracted and irritable. He threw a punch at the heavy bag, but the motion felt mechanical—like he was a step behind. Diego Vargas, his mentor, noticed from across the room.
"You're holding back, Jack," Diego called, walking over. "What's going on?"
Jack wiped his face with his glove. "Just... stuff."
Diego crossed his arms. "Stuff isn't going to cut it in the ring. If you bring whatever's eating you in there, it'll chew you up."
Jack exhaled sharply. "It's Aiden. He's all over the media, running his mouth about me being soft. Saying I don't belong in this league."
"Let him talk," Diego said, his tone calm but firm. "The moment you fight on his terms, you've already lost."
"I can't just ignore it!" Jack growled. "He's making me look like a joke."
Diego's expression hardened. "You care too much about what other people think. That's your problem."
Jack scoffed and turned away. "Easy for you to say. You're not the one getting called out."
Diego grabbed Jack's shoulder, spinning him back. "Listen, I've been in this game long enough to know that pride will wreck you faster than any opponent. If you don't get your head straight, Aiden won't need to beat you—you'll do that yourself."
Jack shook off Diego's grip and stormed to the sparring ring. "Let's go. I need to hit something."
Diego hesitated but then sighed, following Jack into the ring. "Alright, but if you're not focused, we're stopping. You hear me?"
Jack nodded, wrapping his hands tightly. They began light sparring, but it didn't take long for Jack's emotions to flare. Every punch he threw came harder, sharper, fueled by his frustration. Diego dodged and blocked with ease, but Jack kept pushing, each swing becoming more reckless.
"Control, Jack!" Diego barked as Jack lunged forward, narrowly missing a hook. "Stay focused!"
Jack gritted his teeth and threw a wild right cross. Diego ducked under it, and Jack stumbled, frustration boiling over. He let out a growl, charging at Diego with a flurry of uncontrolled punches.
"Enough!" Diego shouted, parrying Jack's fists. But Jack didn't stop.
In a flash, Diego twisted and pinned Jack's arm behind his back, slamming him to the mat. "That's it!" Diego snapped. "You're done!"
Jack struggled under Diego's grip, breathing hard. "Let me up!"
Diego tightened his hold for a moment, then released him, stepping back. "You nearly took my head off, Jack. You think that's how a champion fights?"
Jack sat on the mat, panting, his fists still clenched. "I just... I need to beat him."
"No," Diego said, his voice calm but sharp. "You need to beat yourself."
Jack looked up, confused. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Diego crouched down, meeting Jack's gaze. "Aiden's not the enemy here, Jack. You are. You're letting your anger and pride run the show. And if you keep it up, you're going to destroy everything—your career, your relationships, all of it."
Jack's shoulders slumped, the weight of Diego's words sinking in.
"You think Aiden cares if you beat him?" Diego continued. "He's living rent-free in your head, and every time you get worked up, you're giving him exactly what he wants."
Jack looked away, guilt washing over him. "Lena's already fed up with me. I think she's seeing someone else."
Diego sighed. "And can you blame her? You've been so focused on proving yourself to someone who doesn't matter that you're pushing away the people who do."
Jack ran a hand through his hair, frustration bubbling just beneath the surface. "I don't know how to stop."
Diego patted his shoulder. "You start by taking a step back. You're not going to win this fight—any fight—until you stop fighting yourself."
Jack sat in silence for a moment, processing Diego's words. "What if I can't?"
Diego smiled faintly. "Then you've got more work to do. But I believe you can."
Just then, Derrick, Jack's original coach, approached the ring, his expression unreadable. "You good?" he asked, glancing between Jack and Diego.
Jack nodded slowly. "Yeah... I think I need to be."
Derrick gave a short nod. "Good. Because this road you're on? It's only getting harder from here. If you're going to make it, you need to get your priorities straight."
Jack stood, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah. I know."
Diego crossed his arms. "One fight at a time, Jack. Starting with the one in here." He tapped his temple.
Jack exhaled a shaky breath, feeling the weight of his choices pressing down on him. "Guess I better figure out how to fight that one."
Diego grinned. "That's the fight of your life, kid. But you're not alone in it."
Jack gave a small, tired smile. "Thanks, Diego. And... sorry about almost breaking you."
Diego chuckled. "You'll have to try a lot harder than that."
As Jack climbed out of the ring, he glanced at his phone, noticing a missed call from Lena. He hesitated, thumb hovering over the screen, then locked the phone and stuffed it into his bag.
"I'll call her later," he muttered to himself.
Derrick clapped him on the back. "No more distractions, right?"
Jack nodded. "Right. Time to get my head back in the game."
But deep down, Jack knew that getting his head in the game would be the hardest fight yet.