My spoon hit against the bottom of my bowl, producing a small yet audible clunk that brought me out of the immersion of my thoughts.

Thinking over those thoughts made me groan in frustration, as I thought about why I made the decision to pummel the son of an underworld powerhouse.

It didn't take me long to find the answer to my query, and it was the same answer as to why I went home after winning that fight despite putting myself in life-threatening danger.

I am an impulsive man, and my actions are often risky and reckless.

If not for this personality of mine, why else would I have chosen the illegal and dangerous job of an underworld boxer? At the time, I had thought that being an underworld boxer would be the perfect job for me. I was an excellent boxer, I loved fighting, and it provided me with enough money to keep my head above the waves of poverty.

But after taking the job and winning a few fights I quickly found out that I had made a huge mistake. Sadly, it was too late. Those few fights I won had netted the establishment huge monetary gains, and they quickly dubbed me as a huge money-maker. I was forced into fights and I had to do things that I wasn't very proud of.

When I finally had enough of it and asked to quit, they threatened my life and turned me into a slave worker, giving me horrible wages despite my hard work. That was why I made my house look ugly from the outside because if they ever visited me they would see that I was living in poverty and be satisfied with my punishment of wanting to quit.

I quickly found myself deep into the abyss of the criminal underworld, and there were no chances I was climbing out of it.

This was just one of the consequences of my impulsive behavior, and although it has screwed me over many times I didn't wish for it to change. In fact, I prided myself on it.

I felt that living my life doing what I wanted to do when I wanted to do it was a more complete life than the other "normal" people. They constantly limited themselves by abiding by the unspoken laws of morality and ethics, the fear of being judged by others making them comply without complaints.

But for me? I live with no boundaries, laws, or codes-- I do whatever the hell I want and I have yet to regret a single decision I have made over the course of my life.

But now my character has gotten me into even more trouble. If I had simply let that kid defeat me I could have gone home with a bag of money over my shoulder, but my impulsivity pushed me off the cliff and I knocked him out with a clean hit to the face.

Did I regret it? Hell no! That kid deserved it, I wanted to do it, and therefore I did it. To me, regret is silly and only applicable to people who don't trust themselves, a trait for the "normal" people.

Yes, my choice to become an illegal boxer came with bad consequences. But it was my own choice, and all I had to do was find a solution to the consequences which, for the time being, was making the establishment a ton of money.

Now I made the choice to knock out the child of a powerhouse in the underground world, and all I had to do was find yet another solution to the potential consequences.

One choice would be calling the police. They could offer me protection from the VIP, and perhaps they could even capture the VIP himself.

But how would that work? Would I just call them and say that I was an illegal underground fighter and that I had knocked out the child of a powerhouse in the underworld? Doing that had two results, either they wouldn't believe me or I could show evidence of it and be arrested.

If they were smart, they would probably tag me and use me as bait to bring out the VIP.

Another option I had was turning myself in. I could commit some sort of crime so that they would temporarily put me in prison, or as I said before I could simply tell them of my identity and they would bring me in.

But this was even more stupid than the previous decision. First of all, being sent to prison was a long process and it would probably take a few months, months that I didn't have. Even if I somehow could go to prison by tomorrow, I would be killed in less than a week by the VIP's people in the prison.

The most realistic approach would be being sent to a temporary jail cell in some police station, but that would lead to the same outcome as if I was somehow sent to prison. But there was another way I could die by doing this, which is also the reason why calling the police was stupid…

They were all corrupt! As I have said time and time again, this is a neighborhood filled with crime and illegal activity. This influenced the justice system heavily, and corrupt cops were as common as a penny on the sidewalk.

If I called the police about being tracked by a VIP, they would instantly come over and kill me to earn favor with the VIP, and if I turned myself in it would only make things easier for them to kill me.

Outside help was impossible because it was more than likely that I would instantly be betrayed and backstabbed. That left me with two options, fight or flight.

The first option was fighting. In terms of close combat, I was certain I could take on multiple foes. I had been trained since childhood, strengthening my body to peak conditions and perfecting my fighting style. Every time I lost I got better, every time I won I got more confident, and every time I fought I gave it my all.

But what the fuck was the point of all of that against guns? This was America, a country that came to be by breaking free of the shackles of Britain. Obviously, our founding fathers feared being held captive like that again, and so they gave us a means of protecting ourselves by giving every citizen the right to bear a firearm.

In those times it was a brilliant idea. It brought three crucial advantages to America, advantages that America would forever hold. It made them practically impossible to be invaded as if a foreign enemy invades a city of America they would be met with gunfire from practically every citizen. What could they possibly do against so many citizens, especially when America strengthened this tactic with the Geneva Conventions which restricted civilian casualties? This made it basically impossible to defend against a citizen attack, because it wasn't like the soldiers would just shoot them, right?

The next advantage it gave was the ability for citizens to uproot their leaders. To obtain a governmental position you must obtain more votes in the election than your competitors before your time is up and you need to win again in only a few years. This was a double-edged sword, as although it gave the citizens the right to vote, it made it so that talented governmental officials would be out of office in just a few years.

It also increased the chances of somebody unfit for the job to obtain it, which brings us to our next advantage. Let's say America becomes even more corrupt than it is now, to the point where the government is running the country into the ground instead of the current government that only pushes an agenda to satisfy their own goals.

How would this be combatted? Well, let's be honest, nobody wants to step up first and start the revolution. This means that most likely the militias around the country will start the war, and the militias will inspire the citizens to take up arms and push back the corrupt government.

Eventually, the corrupt government falls, replaced by talents sprouted from the chaos of war, and for a few years, the country struggles to stabilize its power while fending off foreign threats. This brings that advantage to a close and brings up the last advantage.

Self-defense.

What better way to protect yourself than with a gun? Is somebody robbing you? Pull out your gun! Is somebody invading your house? Pull out your gun! Is your family being assaulted? Pull out your gun!

Yes, these three advantages are all great and dandy, but for current America, it is useless. For the first advantage of being impenetrable to invasion, who cares when America is currently the first and only superpower in the world? Nobody would invade them unless they were stupid, so what was the point of it? It was like having complete immunity to diseases and taking a flu shot!

For the second advantage of being able to drive out their own corrupt governments, what did that matter when they only have a couple of years of time before being driven out of office? Not to mention how although people seem to be stupidly gullible nowadays and eat up misinformation like its cake, people would eventually realize that something was wrong, and riots would be more than enough to inspire the people.

This inspiration would inevitably lead to civil war, which would lead to a foreign country offering help, which would lead to an even bigger war, before the army of corrupt America finally realizes they are shooting their own citizens and stop, and in the end, the corrupt government would be executed and new order achieved.

For the last advantage of self-defense, it could be replaced with things like pepper spray, knives, or it could be used as a way to encourage citizens to learn a martial art and therefore get rid of the fitness problem that America is infamous for.

So now all we had in America was a surplus of weaponry that was way too easily accessible, and just one of the consequences of that was now illegal organizations in America were filled to the brim with firearms! There was no way I would be able to fight against guns, so fighting was off the table.

The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

That left me with only one option. Flee.

It was likely that the enemy was already tracking my location, and even more likely that they already knew where I lived. Maybe the only reason that I wasn't killed in my sleep was that they were planning how to cover up my death. After all, although they basically owned the police and therefore owned the justice system they couldn't just murder with no care in the world.

If they were caught covering up their own murder their reputation would go down the drain, and that would both lower how many members entered their organization and force the government to watch the organization a bit more strictly, although it would inevitably disappear once the citizens forgot about it.

I could waste my time making a detailed plan about escaping, but I never really liked making detailed and thought-out plans. I preferred winging it and doing whatever the hell I wanted whenever the hell I could.

But my naturally calculating mind forced me to at least create a rough outline of a plan, and it took me just a few seconds to create one.

I would need to escape the city and go across the country. Although there was no need to escape the country as the power and influence of the organizations in this neighborhood didn't extend that far, I would rather be safe than sorry.

To do this I had a few options, and after thinking about them I decided that my first step would be sprinting to the nearest train station and getting the hell out of this city.

Why did I choose this? Well, I chose to sprint instead of drive because driving would make it too easy for me to be killed.

The roads weren't hard to predict and therefore my route could be intercepted. If I was chased down I wouldn't be able to escape because roads are one-way paths, which is why many criminals driving away from the police eventually get out of their car and run for it.

There were also red lights along the roads leading to the train station, and these red lights would let those who are chasing me easily gun me down.

Of course, I could run the red light and keep going to the train station, but what if I got caught by the police and arrested? I would fail and immediately be brought to jail before inevitably dying.

But why did I choose to go to the train station? It's because the public is there. No matter how powerful the organization is, they wouldn't kill me right in front of a bunch of citizens. Otherwise, planning my death would have been pointless!

I stood up from my couch and dropped my bowl to the floor, causing it to shatter and leave ceramic shards on the floor while the metal spoon clinked down onto the ground.

But as I was about to start walking to my room, I heard the doorknob twist.

The sound made my heart skip a beat, and I was overcome with dread. Luckily, the door was locked and I still had time to escape.

I started running to my room just as a loud bang came from my door, presumably from whoever was out there trying to get into my house.

By the time I entered my room the door had been banged on three times, and right as I opened my drawer to grab my wallet another bang came from the door, followed by the splitting sound of wood being bent and the door slamming against the wall.

Footsteps started heading towards my direction, and I hastily got out my wallet and ran to my window.

I put my hands to the window, and just as I was about to open them I heard a voice come from behind me.

"Stop!"

The voice was familiar to me, and I quickly recognized who it belonged to.

My coach.

I subconsciously felt a little relieved and turned around, expecting my coach to help me escape so that his family and I could escape.

But to my shock, he had a handgun in his hand pointed directly at me while a mountain of a man standing at about 6 ft 5 cm tall with a body as wide as a door standing behind him.

This was one of the few times in my life where I had been shocked, as I could usually perfectly analyze and manipulate people to do as I wanted.

But I never expected the man I trusted with my life to turn his back on me and point a gun at my head!

"Coach?" I said in a questioning manner, my tone wary.

He looked at me with a guilty face and reluctant eyes, and said; "You moron, you fucking moron...why did you do that? All you had to do was lose and we could've gone home in peace."

His hand trembled and he glared at me with anger, while his pistol swayed from his shaking body.

I was shocked that my coach, the man I looked up to as a father, was the one pointing the gun at me.

How could he betray my trust like that? Why did he betray my trust like that? I didn't think that he would turn his back on me just because of one mistake, but I guess I was wrong.

"What do you want me to say, huh? That I'm sorry? That I want you to forgive me? Huh? Well, I'm not! If I could go back in time and be given another chance, I would still knock the shit out of that kid!" I yelled, my expression furious and my finger pointing at my coach.

Then I chuckled, and said; "Ha! If I really could go back in time, I would fix the greatest mistake of my life. Meeting a piece of shit like you!"

I started to walk towards my coach with slow but deliberate steps, and he warily put both hands on his pistol and aimed it at me.

"Don't come any closer you fucker! I'll blast your damn head off!" He said as he pointed his pistol at me.

His shaking hands made me confident that he wouldn't shoot me, and even if he did shoot me I wouldn't care. What was the point? For my entire life, I had been betrayed, manipulated, used, and abandoned.

And for what? Just because of a few mistakes? Just because I messed up a few times?

I'm aware that my impulsive behavior brings consequences to myself and the people around me, but how could I change that? Why would I change that? I can only accept it as being a part of me, and if others can't do the same then why should I care about them?

But now?

Now I just want to rest.

I'm tired, I have a headache, and I'm done with this bullshit. Perhaps I could attempt to fix myself in the future, but I won't have a future, so what's the point in thinking about it?

I walked to the front of my coach and slowly put my hand on the pistol. I grabbed it and positioned it to my forehead, and held it in place for him to shoot.

"Is this what you want, huh? To kill me? Ha, I guess my dad was right. I'm destined to be abandoned by everybody, fated to be the black sheep," I said with a ferocious and crazed expression.

"Just shoot me! Get it over with you fuck head! Don't act like you actually care about me when you barge into my home and aim a pistol at me!" I yelled at him while the man behind him watched with indifference.

My coach looked at me with a conflicted and painful expression, and he said; "Ender...I'm sorry, I didn't want to do this."

His words only made me laugh, and I said; "Stop trying to make yourself feel better you old shit because in the end you're gonna abandon me just like everybody else!

Just fucking shoot me!!"

His hands started to tremble and his lip quivered. Perhaps if my mind wasn't so filled with heartbreak and betrayal I would realize that he was seriously having an inner debate with himself, evident by his conflicted and hesitant expression.

I was furious, and the only thoughts in my mind were filled with rage and betrayal. But I calmed myself down before I closed my eyes and held the pistol to my head steadily.

I waited for the sound of my coach pulling the trigger to enter my ears and end my pain, but no matter how long I waited it never came.

I opened my eyes and looked up to his face, and saw his eyes staring back at me with reluctance, hesitation, and lastly...love?

How could he shove love when he has a pistol pointed at me? How dare he show love when he just abandoned me? How dare he try to tell me he loves me despite coming here to murder me?

Those were the thoughts running through my mind, and I let go of the pistol to curse at him.

However, me letting go of the gun caused it to fall to the floor, showing that he hadn't been holding the gun for the entire time that he was thinking. He simply had his hands on it.

The pistol slowly dropped to the floor, and when it hit the floor it created a loud thud.

That thud brought me out of my crazed thoughts, and I felt my mind become clear.

I started thinking back to everything that had happened to my life. When I was born to my parents before being abandoned by them, how my friends from school all never talked to me again after that event, how I was manipulated by my other family members to visit them and make themselves feel better, and how I was left to fend for myself for my entire life.

But my now clear mind caused those thoughts to break, and I felt like the shackles that were holding my mind down had finally broken.

The real events that happened started to show themselves to me, and as I analyzed them I found that tears were starting to fall from my eyes.

My parents hadn't abandoned me. They had gotten into a car crash where they died instantly on impact because of their faulty airbags. They had always loved me, it was just my own brain that didn't allow me to process that love so that instead of grieving for them I would hate them.

My friends had abandoned me, but it wasn't because my parents died. It was because I had changed after that day, and my innocent personality warped into a sociopathic and twisted one.

I wasn't manipulated by my family members, and I wasn't used as a tool to make them feel better about themselves. They wanted to help me get better, but I was filled with so much rage and hatred that I pushed them away and my brain made me think of their love as mere acts.

I was never alone in life. I was constantly given chances to redeem myself, like how my friends had tried to talk with me and help me, how my family wanted me to go to my parents funeral, how my family tried to support me through life, and how my coach had eventually picked me up and shown me a new path of life.

No, I was never alone. I chose to be alone. Or more accurately, my brain forced me to think I was alone.

This epiphany caused me to break down in tears, and for the first time in years, my sociopathic personality cracked. Instead, I showed my real self. The part of me that was lost when my parents died. The part of me that knew love, the part of me that grieved, the part of me that cared, and the part of me that simply wanted love.

Perhaps my old personality would show disdain towards my real one. Why search for love? Love is fickle and can easily be broken. It was like a god looking down on mortals for their ignorance.

But ignorance is bliss, is it not?

Those who look at the world through a practical view will fail to look at their own lives with a loving view. Scientists who are hell-bent on finding the truth of the world will fail to realize how it is affecting their relationships.

Relationships are the most important thing in a man's life, whether you like it or not. Without any meaningful relationships, a man will go mad, just as I did. Even if you are so unlucky that all of your relationships break, you can forge new ones, and if you believe that you are destined to be alone, then you have already put yourself in the pit of isolation.

But I was only allowed to bask in my epiphany for a few seconds before the man behind my coach finally acted.

"What a wholesome ending, haha!" The man said with uproarious laughter.

"Hm, well, sadly it won't be wholesome for long," the man said before he quickly pulled out his gun and pulled the trigger.

The gun was aimed towards me, and before I could even react I was shot in the chest.

I looked to my chest in shock and desperately clutched my wound to close it. I fell to the ground helplessly, and I felt my consciousness slowly fading away.

"Ender!" My coach yelled in shock before he tried to help me. However, the man grabbed my coach and pushed him to the wall.

"Did you really think you would survive this? You messed with the wrong people, and now you're gonna pay," the man said as he pointed his gun at my coach.

My coach glared at the man with fury, but he knew he couldn't do anything. All he could do was sit and wait, waiting for his inevitable death.

"Ender...I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I couldn't be a better father to you. I didn't know how to help your mental condition, so I did the only thing I knew how. To train you in boxing."

"But I guess that faile-," my coach said before he was interrupted by the loud bang of a pistol.

The sound instinctively made my coach flinch and close his eyes, expecting the pain of death to befall him any second.

But that pain never came.

"Coach…" I said from the ground, my voice raspy and weak.

My coach slowly opened his eyes and found that the huge muscular man who had been sent to ensure my death was on the floor with a bullet in his head while I held the gun that caused it.

Witnessing the gory corpse caused the coach's stomach to feel queasy. However, he ignored the disgusted feeling and ran to my side.

He took off his own shirt and scrunched it up to give it more density, and held it to my wound in an attempt to stop the bleeding. He had a desperate expression on his face as he tried to save me from the brink of death, but there was no way I was surviving this.

"Coach...stop," I said weakly before I clutched his wrist that was applying pressure to my wound.

He looked at me in anger and said; "What do you mean stop? I will get you out of here"

I sighed in sorrowfulness which only made me cough up blood, and although I felt my eyes closing I pushed myself to say a few more words.

"Train...escape to train station," I said feebly.

"No, no! Come on! We will get out of here together, and you will live with me and my family!" My coach yelled out in anger, tears streaming down from his face.

Although the darkness taking over my environment, I was able to hear his last words and weakly smiled.

"Goodbye...dad."

His expression turned to shock, but before he could even reply to me my body went limp and the darkness completely took me into the next life.

"No, no! Please, Ender, wake up!" My coach yelled out in anguish as he embraced my corpse in denial.

For minutes he grieved and wept, angry at his fate. How could everything go so wrong? How could everything go so horribly?

No, he still had a chance. He had failed Ender, but he wouldn't fail his next child. He would save his family and give them a happy life, even if he had to die to do it!

'Ender...thank you. I will remember you for the rest of my life, and I will make sure to be the best father for my child!'

Those were his last thoughts before he ran out of the house and got into his car. He drove away from my house as quickly as he could, his heart filled with determination, the determination to protect his remaining family!

***

In the end, Ender managed to save his family and he moved to the other side of the country. He became a professional boxing coach whose name would be remembered for as long as boxing was in the world, and he would share the heroic story of Ender until his death. In his final days, he was surrounded by his lovely wife, his children, and the champions he had trained over his entire life.

That is the end of his story, a story that starts with tragedy but ends with love. But this wouldn't be the end of Ender's story. In fact, it was only the start.

—-

A/N: Prologue is finally done, hooray! This stuff is boring to write but it is necessary for the character development of our protagonist Ender.

Sadly, more of this will be needed for the next arc as well for even more character development. I will try to spice it up with some fights and maybe a few Pokemon appearances, but other than that it will kind of be like a slice of life novel for the next sub-arc.

You guys are amazing for voting for my novel with your power stones, thank you! I was thinking of dropping the novel at first due to some criticism but I received a huge burst of motivation from your guys' support!

Once again, we need ten reviews for an official review and that will help out a bunch!