Chapter 240 | A Puncher’s Chance
Chapter 240: 240 | A Puncher’s Chance
Maya turned back toward him, and something changed in the way she held herself. Her shoulders squared differently. The casual dismissal in her posture evaporated, replaced by the same focused intensity she’d had when she was drilling combinations on the heavy bag.
"Good. Get your gloves."
Jordan retrieved the training gloves from the equipment bucket near the ring corner. Sixteen-ounce gloves, the leather worn soft from use but still solid. He pulled them on, working his fingers into place and securing the velcro straps around his wrists.
The padding made his hands feel like someone had strapped pillows to his knuckles, but the weight was oddly reassuring. These were tools. They meant he was actually doing this.
Maya grabbed her own pair from a hook on the ring post. She slipped them on without looking, muscle memory guiding the motion.
They both stepped toward the center of the ring. The canvas stretched around them, blue and worn smooth in patches where countless fighters had pivoted and shuffled.
The sounds of the gym continued in the background—the rhythmic thud of someone hitting a speed bag, the metallic clank of weights being racked, a distant conversation—but it all seemed to fade into white noise once they faced each other.
"Rules," Maya said. Her voice dropped into instructor mode, flat and declarative. "Light contact only. No head hunting. Body shots and jabs to the face. I see improvement, we continue. I see regression, we stop. Understood?"
"Understood."
"Touch gloves."
Jordan extended his fist. Maya tapped her glove against his once, the contact brief and businesslike. No ceremony to it. Just acknowledgment.
"Begin."
Jordan’s muscles coiled, expecting Maya to come in hot. She’d said light contact, but he’d also watched her drill that heavy bag with enough force to make the chains groan. He braced for an immediate attack.
It didn’t come.
Maya circled instead, moving clockwise around him with footwork so smooth it looked effortless. She stayed just outside striking range, her gloves held at chin height, her eyes locked on his torso. Not his face. His center mass. Reading his balance, his weight distribution, the way his shoulders sat over his hips.
Jordan tried to match her movement. He shuffled his feet the way she’d taught him, keeping his stance square, his guard tight against his face. He watched her shoulders, looking for the telltale rotation that would signal a punch.
Maya jabbed.
The glove snapped out and hit his guard before his brain finished processing that she’d moved. Not hard. Just a tap, really. But fast enough that he hadn’t seen it coming until it was already there, and controlled enough that she could have hit harder if she’d wanted to.
"Slow."
She circled again.
Jordan threw his own jab. Maya slipped it easily, her head moving just enough to let his fist sail past her ear.
"Telegraph less. Your shoulder rises before you throw."
He tried again. Kept his shoulder still. Punched from his core instead of his arm.
This time Maya blocked instead of slipping. Her eyes widened fractionally.
"Better."
They traded shots. Jabs and body hooks. Nothing serious. Just feeling each other out.
But Jordan could sense Maya holding back. Her punches came at maybe twenty percent power. She was being careful. Testing.
He needed to show her something worth testing.
Maya threw a hook to his body. Jordan saw it coming, read the rotation of her hips before her arm even started moving. He dropped his elbow and blocked, then countered with a jab to her midsection.
His glove connected with her abs.
Maya grunted softly. "Ngh."
Her eyes widened. Actually widened. For half a second, genuine surprise crossed her face.
"You read that."
"Got lucky."
"No you didn’t." Maya circled faster now. More aggressive. "That was a read. You saw it coming."
Jordan didn’t answer. He was too busy trying to keep track of her movement.
She attacked.
A flurry of punches that came faster than anything she’d thrown before. Still light contact, but the speed was real. Jordan blocked what he could and ate what he couldn’t, taking shots to his ribs and his guard while he desperately tried to find an opening.
There.
Maya’s left hand dropped slightly after a hook. Jordan stepped inside her reach and threw an uppercut to her body.
THWAP.
The sound echoed through the ring. His glove sank into her midsection with solid contact.
"Haah!"
Maya exhaled sharply, more from surprise than pain. She stepped back, resetting her stance, and stared at him with an expression he couldn’t read.
"That was clean."
"Thanks."
"It wasn’t a compliment."
"I know."
They went again.
This time Maya pushed harder. Her punches came faster, sharper. Jordan absorbed punishment while looking for openings that appeared and disappeared in fractions of seconds.
His body moved without conscious thought. The Tune Up trait hummed through his muscles, optimizing his reactions, sharpening his instincts. He was still getting hit, still taking damage, but he was lasting longer than he had any right to.
Maya’s fist connected with his ribs. Pain bloomed through his side.
"Ghk!"
"Guard up."
He raised it.
She hit him again, this time on the other side.
"Mmph!"
"Move your feet."
He moved.
Three minutes. Five minutes. Seven minutes. Jordan lost track of time. The world narrowed to Maya and the space between them. Punch. Block. Slip. Counter. Every exchange taught him something new.
Maya threw a feint.
Jordan’s brain screamed that it was fake before his eyes could confirm it. He stepped back instead of blocking, and Maya’s real punch sailed through empty air.
She stopped.
Just stopped, right there in the middle of the ring, with her fist extended and her eyes locked on his face.
"How did you know?"
"Know what?"
"That was a feint. A good one. People who’ve been boxing for years fall for that."
Jordan’s chest heaved. Sweat soaked through his shirt. Every muscle in his body screamed for rest.
"I don’t know. I just... knew."
Maya lowered her hands.
The intensity in her eyes had shifted into something else. Something that made Jordan’s skin prickle.
"You’re interesting, McKnight."
"Is that a compliment?"
"It’s an observation." She pulled off her gloves and tucked them under her arm. "Same time tomorrow. I want to see more."
Jordan blinked. "More?"
"More of whatever that is." She gestured at him vaguely. "Whatever’s making you improve this fast. I want to understand it."
"What if I can’t explain it?"
"Then I’ll beat the explanation out of you."
She said it casually. Like discussing the weather.
Jordan believed every word.
"Fine. Same time tomorrow."
Maya nodded once. She ducked through the ropes and dropped to the gym floor, landing with the easy grace of someone who’d done it a thousand times.
Jordan watched her walk toward the women’s locker room. Watched the muscles in her back shift under sweat-slicked skin. Watched the sway of her braid as it brushed against her spine.
His phone buzzed.
DAILY QUEST: Path to Becoming Adonis
Physical: 90/90 minutes complete ✓
Congratulations. You didn’t die.
Bonus: Survived sparring with Maya Santos (+3 Quest Tickets)
Total Tickets: 103 🎫
GOLD GACHA UNLOCKED
Jordan stared at the notification.
One hundred tickets. Gold Gacha. Whatever that meant.
He’d find out tonight.