Oren immediately shifted his center of gravity to his feet, and launched a devastating roundhouse. The air whistled with the force of his kick. I leaned back, dodging the kick by a hair's breadth. That was faster than my jab! Oren lamented, "Oh, I'm so slow nowadays.." How is that slow? I wondered, astonished by his speed. Undeterred, Oren stepped in with a fierce tranquility etched on his face and fired off a heavy jab. It hit me on the same left cheek with a thudding impact, leaving behind a red mark that burned with intensity. My vision started to fizzle, the edges blurring as pain coursed through me. My guard dropped involuntarily, and he seized the opportunity, delivering a gut punch that felt like a sledgehammer. I recoiled like a hunchback, my body folding in on itself, and I held myself up with my right hand, gasping for breath.

He yelled, "Get up!" His voice was a mix of frustration and encouragement. He kicked me in my chin with a swift, powerful motion, and I tumbled backward, the world spinning around me. My feet dragged against the ground, and I found myself on my knees, still dazed. Summoning every ounce of willpower, I slowly stood up, my face full of bruises, each one a testament to the brutal exchange. I raised my guard yet again, my determination unwavering, and told him, "Show me some more!"

Oren landed a right straight to my chest, and I coughed in response, the air forced out of my lungs. My guard fell, leaving me exposed, and he followed up with a right hook that connected perfectly. My head spun, and my body twisted from the impact. Oren then led his palm onto my face and slammed me to the mat with a force that reverberated through my entire body. My legs shot straight up before collapsing back down, and my brain ricocheted around in my skull, each throb intensifying the dizziness as I slowly lost my vision. Oren wiped the sweat from his brow, signaling the end of our brutal session with a nonchalant, "That's enough for day one." I can't even move. I tried raising my arms, but my muscles were entirely strained, unresponsive to my will. What did he do to me?

Despite my state, Oren reached out his hand, "Get up, we have one more thing to do." His words were a lifeline pulling me back to consciousness. My eyes shot awake, and I grasped his hand with what little strength I had left. He hoisted me up with a steady, firm grip and explained, "That's adrenaline for you. Now, after 'pain tolerance' training, I want you to practice a jab. Try your dominant hand." I fully stood upright, my legs trembling beneath me, and he let go of me, stepping back to observe.

His body shifted into a southpaw stance and he shook his right hand, readying himself. He demanded, "Watch my movement." I watched intently, mustering all the focus I could maintain after that beating. Oren jabbed the air, and the form was beautiful. The twisting of his elbow, the extension of his arm, all masterful and fluid. Oren repeated this basic jab many times, each one as precise as the last. He explained, "Burn this into your mind." His voice was almost meditative.

For the next few minutes, all I did was watch him jab, every movement a lesson. It wasn't even boring; it was mesmerizing, the rhythm and grace of his technique captivating me despite the pain coursing through my body. Oren relaxed, letting out a deep breath. "Well, that's all for now. Practice that jab whenever you can. Come back here at three every Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday for pain tolerance training." I responded, "Yes, sir!" and bowed to him, a gesture of respect and gratitude despite the thrashing I had endured. He beat me up, but he wants what's best for me. At least I think so, haha. I walked over to the cubbies, the soreness in my body making each step a reminder of the session. I released the Velcro on my gloves and put them back in the bag. I did the same with the headgear, my hands moving slowly, almost reverently, as if the gear had become a part of the experience. I walked over to the edge of the mat and bowed again, this time to the space where I had just learned so much. I left the gym, saying goodbye to Oren, who nodded in acknowledgment.

So, he did it like this, right? I tried my best copying his form at the motel, but something's off. I threw yet another jab, feeling the air resistance but not the power. No, that's still not it. Maybe I can ask him next time? I'll continue as it is for now. I resolved, trying to absorb every detail of Oren's movements. I sat down on the worn motel chair, its creak blending with my sigh. Pulling out my phone, I opened the gallery and navigated to "favorites." Amy's visage appeared on the screen, her smile a bittersweet memory. Frustration and guilt welled up, and I threw the phone onto the bed. I can't even face her right now... Not yet. I'll face her when I get revenge. One day, I promised myself, one day I'll make things right.

Two weeks later..

"Oh, you're able to stand, I see!" Oren yelled, a grin spreading across his face. He threw a barrage of jabs and straights, each one powerful and precise, blowing through my guard like it was nothing. Oren ducked swiftly, placing his palm on my elbow. He pivoted on his foot with practiced ease and delivered an open palm uppercut to my elbow, shattering my guard. His attacks were relentless. He charged up a punch over his shoulder, an attack I recognized just in time. I recovered my guard and blocked where he would attack. Oren was always a step ahead. He side-kneed me in the thigh, the impact making me hop back instinctively.

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I wobbled but remained on my feet. I'm still standing! I thought, my determination renewed. He explained, "Nobody charges punches like that!" His voice was both a lesson and a challenge. He kicked me in the gut, and I fell down to my knees, gasping for air. Despite the pain, Oren praised me, "Four minutes. That's how long you stood up for. Almost there, Damon. One more minute, and you'll have passed this stage." His words were a mixture of encouragement and expectation. I looked up at him, a smile breaking through the exhaustion and pain. "Haha, alright." I responded.

One week later..

I extended my arms out into an X, blocking Oren's kick with a solid stance. He responded with surprise, "Even though that's my bad leg... good job. You've been learning some good defense as well." Suddenly, a timer rang out from Oren's bag. He looked back at it, then at me, a hint of pride in his eyes. "Oh, you did it." He glanced back at me, "You survived for five minutes. You've passed stage one's preliminary test. Now, we begin its final test." I was drenched in sweat, but curiosity overtook my exhaustion. I wiped the blood off my mouth, my mind racing with possibilities. "What's the test?" I asked, trying to steady my breath.

"One minute." he said, walking over to his phone. He dialed quickly and waited as the line rang. After a few moments, someone picked up. "Hey, come to my gym real fast. I'll teach you something special if you complete this task." he said, his tone firm and mysterious. The other person responded, and he hung up the phone. Oren glanced back at me, a glint of anticipation in his eyes. "Wait a few minutes, it's coming."

I sat down on the benches, draping a towel over my neck, my exhaustion weighing heavily on me. The door swung open with a bang, and a bulky teenager walked in. He bore a striking resemblance to Oren. Oren walked over and hugged him, then lounged his shoulder over the teenager. "Damon, meet my son Tony. He's a martial arts prodigy. If you land a jab on him in sparring, I'll move you to the next stage." Oren explained, his tone both proud and challenging. Tony pushed his father away, a dismissive look on his face. "This is who you're training? He's..." Tony's words trailed off, but the contempt was clear. I felt slighted at his comment, my blood boiling. I shot him a mean side eye. "I'm what?" I challenged. Tony turned, his eyes locking onto mine as he squarely insulted me, "You're not worth my dad's training."

That was it. I got up, squaring up in front of him, my fists clenching. Tony smiled, a condescending smirk that only fueled my drive. Oren quickly stepped between us, raising his hands to diffuse the tension. "Woah, woah. Tony, uncalled for. Let's see if you're right, though. Tony, go spar with him, and if he lands a jab on you, don't insult him further." Tony walked onto the mat, placing his bag down with a confident air. Oren whispered to me as I followed, "You better land a jab. I didn't expect him to be this rude." I nodded, my mind laser-focused on the task ahead. Tony might be a prodigy, but I had something to prove—to him, to Oren, and to myself.

Tony signaled me on, "Let's go, dude." I snickered, "Alright, then." I walked onto the mat, raising my guard. I need to land this jab no matter what. I copied Oren's movements from when he fought me, focusing on speed. Tony backed up slightly, noticing my stance. "You know that movement technique?" he asked, a hint of surprise in his voice. I shook my head, not breaking eye contact. He tightened his fist and fired off a jab at me. I swerved to my left, and it grazed me, the speed and force clear in its wake. Tony quickly followed with another jab, this one even faster. It nicked my guard, causing my forearm to wane under the impact.

It's time I go on the attack. I sprinted at him, momentarily relaxing my defense. Tony crouched and delivered a right hook. I took the hook completely, the pain exploding in my jaw. This hurts, but not as much as Oren's! I pushed through the agony. Using the opening, I fired off the jab I had practiced for days. It was fast, my muscles moving with a fluidity I had honed. The jab hit him square in the forehead. My knuckles cracked from the impact, and while it seemed to do little damage to Tony, I had successfully landed the jab. Tony staggered back, touching his forehead in surprise. Oren, watching closely, stepped forward, a hint of satisfaction in his eyes. "Good job, Damon." he said, looking at Tony expectantly.

Tony denied my win, "Oh, that doesn't count! He didn't even hurt me!" Oren walked out onto the mat, his expression serious. "No, it does. How could you let your guard down that much, Tony?" Tony sulked, clearly disappointed. Oren slapped him on the back, trying to lighten the mood. "Cheer up, son. I'll still teach you that move." Tony's eyes lit up. "Really, dad?" Oren smiled proudly. "Yeah, you're good enough for it anyway." He turned to face me, his demeanor shifting to business. "Now, about you... You passed the test. Now we move onto stage two."

I asked him eagerly, "Seriously, what's stage two?" He explained, his voice full of purpose. "We will train your body to its maximum potential. You'll work out three days a week for multiple hours each day. We can also attempt stage three at the same time, which involves learning the basics of Muay Thai, Taekwondo, and Boxing. Are you up for it?" I shimmied my gloves, "Yes, sir!"