As Stephen settled back into his seat, he found himself staring down at his own fist, examining the redness blooming across his knuckles, the faint throbbing beneath the skin. He flexed his hand slowly, feeling the lingering sting from those last three blows he’d delivered. Even through the ache, he couldn’t help the flicker of satisfaction running through him as he reflected on the fight.
This had been his first real test since forming the Vow and awakening his new power.
And while Joe, Na, and even Wolf had adapted quickly to their own transformations, Stephen had struggled the most in learning how to access and control his ability. His Vow was tied to speed, a gift that should have been perfect for a man who once built his entire life around timing, precision, and movement.
Yet mastering it was far more complicated than he had expected.
The truth was, Stephen couldn’t move his entire body at enhanced speed. Not yet.
He could only accelerate one part of himself at a time, his hand, his arm, a single limb. And doing even that required such extreme concentration that he practically had to empty his mind to activate the ability at all.
His thoughts had to become perfectly still.
His emotions restrained.
His instincts narrowed down to a single point.
Only then could he release a burst of speed that felt like his old peak, yet beyond it at the same time.
During the fight with Keke, he had achieved his best breakthrough so far.
He had maintained the accelerated speed in one hand long enough to throw three punches before Keke even registered the first. Three strikes delivered faster than his aging joints should have ever allowed, yet still powerful enough to knock the man unconscious in an instant.
Stephen chuckled breathlessly to himself. It was surreal.
His punches had always been strong, built on decades of form and conditioning. But combined with this new speed, they became destructive . Devastating even to him.
"Does it hurt?" Max asked from beside him, leaning forward in concern. "Your fist... it’s really red."
"I would be lying if I said otherwise," Stephen admitted with a wry smile. "It seems there’s something else I need to consider."
Unlike Joe, who could heal after nearly breaking his own body with his destructive punches...
Or Na, whose strength and dexterity had risen together, allowing his body to naturally support its own power...
Stephen’s situation was different.
His raw physical durability had not increased with his speed.
His bones, already aged, were still the bones of a man well past his prime. And hitting too hard, too fast, risked his own hands giving out under the force.
’If I keep striking at this level without restraint, I might damage my own bones before I damage the opponent,’ Stephen thought grimly. ’I need to refine my control. Increase the speed only slightly, just enough to gain advantage, without overwhelming my body.’
He inhaled deeply.
’And if I can strengthen myself further... if my muscles adapt... then one day I might be able to move my whole body at that speed. Or maybe even sustain it for longer than a moment.’
Hope, bright and unfamiliar, rippled through his chest.
His age had always been a shadow hanging over him, a constant reminder that his peak was behind him. But now?
Now, he had a chance to surpass even the man he once was.
’And if not through my fists,’ Stephen thought, ’then through my footwork. I can accelerate my steps instead. Move in and out quickly, but strike at normal speed. Save the bursts for when they matter.’
It was a path forward.
A path he intended to walk.
Despite the danger surrounding them, the tension on the deck, the presence of Darius and Jett, the uncertain future, Stephen couldn’t suppress the wide grin spreading across his face.
For the first time in years, he felt alive.
"Thanks for believing in me, Max," Stephen said, turning to the young man beside him. "I’ll get the hang of this. And don’t worry, I’ll keep winning. You need the money, and this is the least I can do."
He paused, flexing his sore hand again.
"I’ll be more careful from now on. They say the best way to learn is inside the ring, so... I suppose I’ll just have to keep doing that."
Max’s phone buzzed then, vibrating against the small wooden table beside him.
He glanced at the screen and saw the notification: Payment Received .
Just as Darius had promised, they were paying out instantly after every match.
And in that same moment, Max felt it, that faint, warm sensation blooming in his chest.
His Vow strengthening.
His resolve deepening.
Every victory from Stephen fed directly into Max’s power. And though it wasn’t overwhelming, it was enough to reassure him that their plan was still working.
"I’ll keep betting on you," Max said quietly, watching Stephen with a mixture of admiration and pride. "So you keep winning."
Stephen nodded.
He leaned back in his chair, letting the sound of the ocean and the murmurs of the crowd fade into the background as he drifted into thought.
He remembered the man he once was: proud, disciplined, worn down by failures but never broken. He remembered the students he had taught, the fights he had won and lost, the years spent thinking that youth, and strength, were behind him.
And then he remembered the Vow he made, the vow he had taken to get the powers he had.
If this new life demanded his fists, his speed, his pain, then he would give all of it willingly.
He started to think about the tough ride he had even taken to get here, the tough life he had lived all before he had met Max.
****
*****
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