My Boxing System: The Undisputed Champion

The moment Troy stepped into the ring, the roar of the crowd became deafening. Bright lights illuminated the venue, casting a sharp contrast between him and his opponent, Darren "Flash" Fields. Darren bounced lightly on his toes, his smirk radiating confidence as he eyed Troy.

The referee stepped forward, giving both fighters final instructions. "This is a three-round exhibition. Keep it clean. No fouls, no cheap shots. Touch gloves and back to your corners."

Troy extended his gloves, and Darren gave them a light tap before backing away, his smirk unwavering.

Marcus leaned close as Troy reached his corner. "Remember what we worked on. Fields is fast, but he leaves himself open when he showboats. Stay patient, stay smart, and don't let him dictate the fight."

Troy nodded, his heartbeat steady despite the adrenaline surging through his veins. The bell rang, and the fight was on.

---

Darren came out fast, his jab snapping forward like a whip. Troy raised his guard, moving his head to avoid the brunt of the punches. Darren's speed was as advertised, his footwork fluid as he danced around the ring.

"Come on, kid, is that all you've got?" Darren taunted, throwing a quick combination that forced Troy to step back.

Troy didn't take the bait. He focused on staying light, using his head movement to slip punches while waiting for an opening.

Marcus's voice cut through the noise. "Don't chase him! Let him come to you!"

Darren threw another jab, but this time, Troy slipped it and countered with a sharp hook to the ribs. The impact was solid, and Darren's smirk faltered for a split second.

The crowd murmured, and Troy felt a flicker of confidence.

---

The second round began with Darren increasing his aggression. He threw a flurry of punches, his footwork keeping him just out of reach when Troy tried to counter.

"Too slow, rookie!" Darren taunted, landing a quick jab that grazed Troy's cheek.

Troy gritted his teeth, refusing to let the insult distract him. He remembered Miguel's advice: Don't let them dictate the pace. Make them fight your fight.

Troy began moving more deliberately, cutting off Darren's angles and forcing him to engage. When Darren tried to throw another flashy combination, Troy ducked under it and landed a clean uppercut to his chin.

The crowd erupted, and Darren stumbled back, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Good!" Marcus shouted. "Now keep the pressure on!"

Troy pressed forward, targeting Darren's body with hooks and crosses. Darren managed to block some of the punches, but his footwork was beginning to falter.

---

The final round was a battle of wills. Both fighters were drenched in sweat, their movements slower but no less determined. Darren's confidence had been replaced with frustration, his punches becoming more erratic as he tried to regain control.

Troy, however, felt sharper than ever. The System's voice echoed in his mind:

"Opponent fatigue detected. Execute strategic counters."

Darren launched a wild right hook, but Troy saw it coming. He slipped to the side, pivoting on his back foot, and delivered a devastating cross to Darren's temple. The punch landed with a loud thud, and Darren staggered, his knees buckling.

The crowd was on its feet as Darren tried to recover, but Troy didn't let up. He stepped in, throwing a precise combination—jab, cross, hook—that sent Darren crashing into the ropes.

The referee stepped in, waving off the match as the crowd erupted in cheers.

---

Troy leaned against the ropes, his chest heaving as the announcer declared him the winner. Darren's coach helped him to his corner, his expression dazed but respectful.

"Not bad, Hunter," Darren said, his voice hoarse. "You earned that."

Troy nodded, too exhausted to reply.

Marcus climbed into the ring, clapping him on the shoulder. "You did good, kid. You stayed composed and executed when it mattered. That's what I wanted to see."

The System chimed in Troy's mind:

"Task complete: Win exhibition match. Reward unlocked: +2 Stamina, +1 Speed."

Troy allowed himself a small smile. He had done it—not just for himself, but to prove he belonged in this world.

---

After the match, Vince Malone approached Troy in the locker room, his grin wider than ever.

"You were incredible out there, kid," Vince said. "Scouts are already asking about you. This is just the beginning."

Troy raised an eyebrow. "What's next?"

"That depends on you," Vince replied. "You keep fighting like that, and you'll have promoters lining up to work with you. But remember, this world moves fast. You've got to stay sharp."

Troy glanced at Marcus, who stood nearby with his arms crossed. Marcus didn't say anything, but his presence was enough to ground Troy.

"I'll think about it," Troy said, his voice steady.

"Fair enough," Vince said, handing him another business card. "When you're ready to take the next step, you know where to find me."

As Vince walked away, Marcus approached. "Don't let him fill your head with dreams of shortcuts. You've got a long way to go before you're ready for the big leagues."

"I know," Troy replied. "But I'm getting there."

---

That night, as Troy walked home under the glow of the streetlights, he felt a strange mix of exhaustion and exhilaration. The cheers of the crowd still echoed in his mind, a reminder of what he was capable of.

He wasn't just a scared kid from nowhere anymore. He was a fighter—and this was only the beginning.