"Remember, don't think about the disadvantages your Class gives you as compared to your opponent," Reivyn gave some last-minute advice to Herrick. "We don't even know if he's got the official Striker Class, either. He may be just like you, expanding his horizons to see about picking it up in Tier 4 later down the road. This is an amateur exhibition, after all, so it's quite likely."
Reivyn had spent over a month training with the Strikers gym, and it wouldn't be a complete experience if he didn't participate in an actual Striker match. He, his father, Herrick, and the rest of the team were making their way to one of the lesser arenas that housed amateur Striker matches. Because their gym was located in the inner city, they were afforded the privilege of competing in one of the inner city arenas. It didn't necessarily mean that all the competitors were better than those from the outer city, but at least they wouldn't have to travel too far for their match.
Herrick, unlike Reivyn, trained at the Striker gym every day, from morning to evening. Proper rest was understood in the world of professional fighting, but with higher Vitality and Stamina, one could recover much quicker. The champions, if they wished it, were high enough Level with enough Vitality that they could practically train nonstop. Their time was very valuable, though, so they only did such things if they needed money for some reason.
Duston, the head trainer of the gym Reivyn attended, trained both amateurs and professionals. He had a full team available for the amateurs, but they weren't dedicated to the individual. The professionals, if they proved their mettle enough to Duston, would have an exclusive team. There were pros and cons for both approaches. The teams that served a wide variety of Strikers had a broad understanding, but those that were exclusive to a specific Striker didn't need to know as much as long as they complimented their teammates. There also wasn't a rule that the specialized team lacked the knowledge and experience of the other teams, either.
Reivyn was headed to an amateur exhibition, so they were with the amateur team. That didn't mean that the teammates were amateurs. They were professionals hired by Duston, and they received just as much training as everyone else. They either didn't want to dedicate themselves to a particular Striker, or they felt they needed to experience more before they committed.
"Honestly, as Reivyn said, there are only a few people in the amateur leagues that have the official Striker Class," Duston spoke up. "It's one of the main ways to start off in the professional league. Those that are in the amateur league with the Class are typically those that decided at the last minute and haven't polished their Skills like the others that have had a clear goal from the beginning.
"There's nothing wrong with that, per se, and it's kind of what a lot of amateurs seeking to switch to the Class at Tier 4 are doing, too. Just don't get caught up in winning or losing. This is your first match, and it's more to test your guts and performance ability than anything. Nobody even cares if you win or lose other than you. And maybe your gramps."
Renry snorted at the comment. He acted nonchalant, but Reivyn could see the nervous energy in the man's steps. Even if he doesn't care, he's still going to be rooting for a win. Winning is better than losing, all things being equal, Reivyn thought.
Reivyn wasn't too concerned about his own match. He was just here for the experience. He had no ideas of living this kind of lifestyle and switching to being a professional entertainment fighter. He felt he would get a better grasp of the entire situation with the teams if he experienced every aspect there was to it. That meant fighting in a match in the ring.
It also meant that he had plans to act as a Strategist, Tactician, and maybe a Trainer if he could figure out the trick to impart muscle memory to someone. There was definitely a Class Skill involved, and with his recent experiments and further understanding of how Stamina worked, he had confidence he could figure it out eventually. It really wasn't necessary for his goals, and it was one of the team positions, along with Healer, that he could safely skip. His Mana Healing Skill, so far, had resisted being projected out to affect someone other than himself. That might change one day as his Skill Level increased, but he wasn't there yet.
The group made their way into the arena. They didn't use the entrance that led to the stands, even Kefira and Serilla following behind. They made their way to the side, where there was a set of stairs leading down. Duston showed some sort of identification to the people guarding the door, though they clearly recognized him. They were just going through a formality, and they checked the names of the contestants and team members off of a list.
Herrick and Reivyn were the only newcomers participating in any matches from Duston's gym, but matches were going on all day. There were dozens of matches every couple of days, though the amateur league didn't pull in nearly as many people each time as the professional leagues. Some members that were on the path to getting the official Striker Class at Tier 4 could draw a crowd, but Reivyn and Herrick weren't expecting anything like that today.
Refix kept quiet for the most part, but he did offer some encouragement to Herrick alongside Reivyn. He knew that his son didn't need any pep talks, and Reivyn was treating this like any other sparring match. Herrick was a different story, though, as was considering his options for his future. He didn't have a ferocious attitude like one would expect from a professional fighter, though he never shirked his training. If Reivyn had to guess, he would be middling talent at best in the ring, and he might have an advantage with his grandfather's experience as one of the team members. He would need to see more from him in that regard before he could make a determination, though. As it was, he didn't seem like he was going to become a professional Striker.
"Herrick, you're up first," Duston said. "There's no reason behind it; it's just how the opponents were drawn up. There's no final match or anything like that. Everyone is doing an exhibition match. Don't let yourself be pressured, and just get up there like it's any other training session with one of the instructors. I can almost guarantee that your opponent won't be at the same level as one of my trainers."
"Sure," Herrick said.
Herrick was psyching himself up. They had been wearing their competition clothes under their street clothes, so they just had to do a quick change before they were ready. They didn't have to wrap up their hands or put on any protective gear or anything, either, so until it was time to go out to the ring, they didn't have anything to prep. They didn't have anything to do until it was time to go out into the ring.
Kefira and Serilla, being members of the opposite sex, weren't allowed into the male changing room. They had their own waiting area as spectators associated with the group. After taking his street clothes off and giving one last word of encouragement to Herrick, Reivyn simply left the changing room and met up with Kefira and Serilla, Refix tagging along.
"You nervous at all?" Kefira asked. It was more to just strike up a conversation than actually worry about Reivyn being nervous. Just one look at him could tell that he wasn't.
"Maybe for Herrick, a little," Reivyn answered. "No matter how much we try and tell him that the results don't matter, this is his first competition. As far as I know, he hasn't had much experience fighting before joining the gym, so even if there wasn't a crowd, he might still have the jitters. We can only hope that he calms down once he's in the ring."
"Yeah, I hope he does well, but I know that he's not fully set on his path yet anyway," Kefira responded.
"Losing badly might accelerate his decision to switch to a Strategist or Tactician, which might be a good thing if that's the case," Refix chimed in. "I don't think he'll lose badly, though. I've seen some grit and determination in him over these past weeks. He's an unpolished gem. A cheap gem, but a gem nonetheless."
"That's high praise coming from you," Kefira gave Refix an appreciative look.
Refix shrugged.
"I don't really value gems."
Kefira stared at Refix for a moment.
"Now, I don't know if you're complimenting him or not," she muttered.
"Exactly," Refix smirked.
Reivyn rolled his eyes. He knew that his father was actually complimenting the young man, but he wouldn't give up the opportunity to act like a prankster. He was just teasing Kefira, and she would come to learn his quirks over time.
A commotion caught their attention, and they noticed their group passing by the open door of the waiting area. Reivyn jerked his head in that direction.
"Looks like it's our boy's turn," he said. "Let's go cheer for him."
They filed out of the room and joined their group again. They made their way down a long alcove that led through stands to the ring in the center of the arena. Reivyn was right that there wasn't much of a crowd. The arena looked like it could seat a couple of thousand spectators if they squeezed in, and there might be a hundred or so present.
Herrick didn't waste any time, and he immediately climbed up into the empty ring once they got there. Duston was the overall trainer for the gym, not a member of the team, so he filed off into the viewer's area at the base of the arena, Reivyn and the rest following. The team members made their way up right to the side of the ring.
Herrick's opponent was right behind him in mounting the ring, and the referee didn't waste much time introducing them. He simply stated their names and the gyms they were from, and the match began.
Herrick was definitely a little hesitant at the beginning, and his opponent seemed to be a bit more experienced. His opponent immediately closed the distance and engaged Herrick in a flurry of strikes. Herrick took a bit to get used to it, but once he regained his composure and blocked all the distractions out, he performed up to his usual standard while competing against the trainers at the gym.
Herrick's Skill Level was a hair below his opponent's, and he came out of the first round clearly behind in points. He didn't let that phase him, though, as he got a pep talk from his team and remembered that the first round was usually just exploratory. The team he had wasn't phenomenal, but they weren't slouches, either. They came up with a plan, and the Trainer imparted some pointers on how to handle some of his opponent's tells.
It was clear at the start of the next match that the opponent's team wasn't as Skilled as Herrick's. Herrick was able to make up for some of the disadvantages in the first round by taking advantage of some of the bad habits of his opponent, and he followed the instruction of the Tactician to seize the initiative away from his opponent.
The rest of the rounds, only nine considering it was an amateur exhibition, went about the same way. Herrick squeaked out a victory by relying on his superior team members, but he proved that he could at least hang with the other amateurs around the same Skill Level and utilize his team members efficiently. Renry had a proud smile on his face, more impressed with his grandson's demeanor than the victory.
Duston clapped the sweating boy on the back with a large grin, and his opponent came over to shake his hand and exchange some small talk. The two teams conversed briefly before separating to make way for the next batch of contestants and teams, and Reivyn followed them back into the depths of the arena.
The match had only taken about half an hour, and it wasn't much more exciting than watching a sparring session in the gym. He didn't let that interfere with congratulating the other teenager, though, and Herrick was all smiles as he calmed down from the match. He just needed a few more matches like that to build his confidence, and he might be a solid contender for becoming a professional Striker in a few years.
"I'm proud of you, son," Duston said back in the changing room. "Your Skill Level was what we all expected, but your ability to take direction and adapt what your team members devised for you was top-notch. That's the true hallmark of a good Striker. Otherwise, it's just fist-fighting with some kicks thrown in."
"Thank you," Herrick said.
"Don't be too happy, too soon," Duston grinned. "Now that I've gotten a good look, I know exactly which direction to take your training in the future. Remember, 'hope brings the trainer, and the trainer brings suffering.'"
Herrick's face fell for a moment, but the joy of his first successful match still won out. His smile came back as he discussed the match with Renry.
"You ready for your match?" Duston approached Reivyn.
"As ready as I'll ever be," Reivyn said with a nod.
"I know you're not taking this too seriously, but at least try to act like a Striker when you're in there," Duston said with a sigh.
"What do you mean by that?" Reivyn asked.
"Strikers are entertainers," Duston answered. "I know that with your Skill, you could probably win the match outright by destroying your opponent. Instead of going all out, have a competitive match and try to compete with the strategy and tactics your team comes up with."
"I got you," Reivyn replied with a nod.
"Good. Put on a good show, will ya?"
Reivyn just replied with a smile.
Reivyn wasn't too interested in watching the other matches if they were going to be anything like Herrick's. It was one thing to support his fellow gym mate. It was something else entirely to watch what amounted to sparring sessions from total strangers
It wasn't long before it was Reivyn's turn to head to the ring. As they were waiting and conversing down below, it seemed like the ambient sounds coming from the stands above were growing over time. Reivyn didn't pay it any mind at first, but he was shocked when he finally stepped down the alcove to the ring.
Before, when it was Herrick's turn, there had only been around a hundred or so spectators. Now there were close to half the stands full of people. Reivyn wouldn't call it deafening, but it was considerably louder than it had been.
"What's going on?" Reivyn asked Duston.
"Oh, yeah, I forgot to tell you," he replied with a grin. "Your opponent is one of those with the official Striker Class, and she's quite popular in the amateur leagues. She has a good chance of going pro, and soon."
"She?" Reivyn questioned.
"Is that a problem?" Duston quirked an eyebrow.
"Nope."
"Good."
Reivyn, like Herrick, made his way to the ring immediately. He hopped up and over the bands lining the ring, and he made his way to his corner. His teammates met him over there, but they didn't have anything to advise him on before the match.
Reivyn looked up with the cacophony increased, and he spotted his opponent jump into the ring on the other side. Other than a band covering her chest, she was dressed just like any other Striker. The curves of her body were a clear indication that she was feminine, and her figure was probably one of the reasons she was so popular.
Before Reivyn knew it, he scanned her entire body from top to bottom, appreciating the lithe muscles of someone who trained hard. He felt a chill go down his back, and he turned to look in the stands. Kefira was glaring at him in disapproval. Reivyn held his hands up in helplessness. Kefira's glare only intensified.
Reivyn rolled his eyes as he turned to his Strategist.
"Get me a cloth strip, if you would," Reivyn said.
The Strategist gave him a strange look, but he procured one from somewhere. As the referee was announcing the competitors to the crowd, to loud cheering at the name of his opponent, Reivyn tied the strip around his eyes as a blindfold.
He still had his Divine Sense, and it didn't affect his vision in the ring at all. It did have the strange effect of making it easier to tune out the crowd, though, as he could now only hear them. It was like a black wall separated him from them, though. He noticed the glare on Kefira's face turn into a smirk. Her shoulders shook in laughter, and Serilla laughed next to her.
This girl... She's just pretending to be jealous. Reivyn rolled his eyes under the blindfold.
Before the match started, Reivyn turned to face his opponent. She had a frown on her face, and she could tell that she was angry at his action.
"Before we begin, just know that I'm not trying to insult you," Reivyn called out to her. Her frown only deepened, but there was nothing that he could do about that. "I have the Blind Fight Skill, so there's no difference for me. My girl is watching, and she was giving me a look, so..." Reivyn shrugged. "My hands are tied."
"If you say so," she replied. "Don't come crying to me later when I hurt you, though."
"You don't have to worry about that," Reivyn smirked.
The referee announced the start of the match, and Reivyn's opponent charged across the ring. She immediately began a flurry of blows coming from tricky angles, but Reivyn had no problems dodging and blocking the strikes. He could tell that his opponent's Stats weren't quite as high as his, and her Skill, while good, was nowhere near his own. After the first several exchanges, she calmed down, and the frown changed from one of anger to one of concentration.
He didn't launch into a frantic attack of his own, though. He simply matched her Skill Level and Stats, and the two of them danced around the ring, exchanging blows. The sounds from the crowd, even though they intensified at the start of the round, were pushed to the background. There was only the ring and Reivyn's opponent.
As they fought, Reivyn got a strange feeling from the girl across from him. He knew that with System enhanced Stats, there wasn't much of a difference in physical abilities between the genders other than how they looked, but his opponent didn't move like a girl. She had all the curves in the right places for the most part, but her hips were a bit narrow. She didn't sway when she moved about, and Reivyn grew curious.
Thoughts of investigating with his Divine Sense flitted across his mind, but that was something he had never done before. It was a line he wasn't willing to cross. He didn't have to invade his opponent's privacy to notice certain things, though. Her shorts moved in an unexpected way.
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If I had to guess, I would say... Reivyn left the thoughts there, focusing back on the match.
There were other things to notice about his opponent that led credence to his conjecture, like when she swallowed and drew his attention to her throat. At the end of the day, though, it wasn't really important. She had her own life to live, and they were just strangers passing by, all things considered.
The round ended with a tie between them in performance. Reivyn was Skilled enough that he could easily match any opponent in the amateur leagues. He could probably match many of the professionals in the Tier 4 league, too.
He returned to his corner and listened as the Tactician explained what they were going to do. The Trainer didn't really have much he could impart to Reivyn, though he was able to point out some flaws in his opponent's gait that Reivyn had been too busy to pick up on. Reivyn felt an energy settle in his muscles, and he could tell it would wear off after an hour or two. He figured that's what it felt like to have his muscle memory altered, and his body would naturally adjust to his opponent's flaw. He wasn't sure if it was necessarily a "flaw," but her gait clashed with her body proportions slightly.
The next round ensued, and Reivyn continued to match his opponent in Skill. It was a novel experience to have his body move in a way that he hadn't trained previously, but he let himself move with the flow rather than fight against it. He found that he had to work harder to match his opponent's Skill level while doing so, though.
His opponent had another frown on her face, and Reivyn didn't immediately understand why. After exchanging several blows, though, he realized what it was. There was zero change in her fighting Skill. It seemed that her Trainer was unable to find anything to use against Reivyn, and she hadn't been able to improve upon anything for this round.
Reivyn took advantage of the situation and didn't allow her to seize the initiative with her Tactician's plan despite matching her Skill Level. He applied pressure on her and took charge of the competition. He didn't have to show a Level of Skill far above her's to be able to do so.
The rounds continued, and there weren't any surprised until close to the final round. His opponent was growing frustrated as each round progressed. Reivyn didn't allow her Tactician or Trainer to find any flaws in his fighting style, and it was starting to grate on her.
The surprise came when Reivyn noticed a glint in her eye and certain set to her posture. His Danger Sense pinged, and he realized what was going on. She had the official Striker Class, after all. Reivyn didn't have the defensive Skill that the Striker had. He hadn't had enough time to dissect it and learn it.
His opponent unleashed her Skill, and a barrage of fists appeared out of nowhere and rained down on him. She had to have unleashed at least thirty punches at once. It was more than he could do, though considerably less than he had seen from the higher Level Strikers and Kayzor.
Reivyn unlocked his Skill Level a bit, and taking advantage of his Divine Sense, he avoided and blocked all thirty of the punches. His opponent had a dumbfounded look on her face after the Skill finished, and Reivyn grinned at her as he activated his own Skill.
He hadn't had a chance to Level it too high, but he could unleash fifteen blows at once now instead of the eleven when he had first completed the Skill. The activation of the Skill caught his opponent completely off guard, and he landed twelve of the fifteen punches. She backed up and doubled over in pain from the repeated strikes to her abdomen.
Reivyn didn't pursue her, though, and the bell sounding the end of the round soon rang out. The crowd was hollering louder than they had the entire time, but he wasn't paying much attention to it. He didn't know if it was to encourage his opponent or if he had won some of them over. It didn't really matter to him either way. There was only one more round, and he was squarely in the lead.
The last round went as he predicted, and he ended the match with an overwhelming victory. If one only looked at the number of points, it would seem like he barely squeaked by, but those that could read deeper would know that Reivyn had controlled the outcome from the very beginning. Being a Master with the proper moves and muscle memory made him a formidable opponent who really shouldn't have appeared in the amateur league.
Reivyn removed his blindfold and hopped down from the ring. As he approached Kefira and the others, his opponent made her way around the ring to confront him.
"How did you do that?" She asked.
"Do what?" Reivyn asked back, confused.
"My team members said that you matched me perfectly in Skill, so much so that your fighting style was almost identical to mine. My Tactician and Trainer couldn't find anything to impart to me, at all."
"Oh, well, I'm not really an amateur," Reivyn explained. His opponent frowned at the answer, so he continued. "I'm just here for the experience, so I'm put in the amateur league, but I'm at the Master Skill Level. I just matched my Skill Level to yours." Reivyn shrugged.
"I see," the girl said. "So I guess I won't get the chance at a rematch?"
"Not likely," Reivyn answered.
"Too bad," she shook her head. "Well, this has been a good lesson for me, so thank you for that. See you around."
The girl waved to Reivyn, and he waved back. He turned back to Kefira, and she was giving him that false glare again.
"Like what you saw?" She quirked an eyebrow at him.
"She's not exactly my type," Reivyn responded. Reivyn held his hands out in front of himself and acted like he was weighing something. "Compared to you, she's lacking."
"Is that so?" Kefira folded her arms. "In what way, exactly."
"For starters, she's not you," Reivyn shrugged. "When I was in the ring with her, I only noticed that she was a hard worker, but I doubt she's as hard-working as you."
"Is that all that you noticed?" Kefira's glare slipped into a half-smile.
"Yup. Honest."