Chapter 50: 2.35: Me, Myself and the Better Me
Lucian removed the shirt earlier not to flex his bruises but to see his own body move.
He could currently see himself from an outsider’s point of view at the back of his mind. Voice projected this image and forced him to see how ridiculous he looked.
A sixteen-year-old with dark circles under his eyes and a posture like a wilting plant. Lucian instinctively straightened his back when he saw the image.
Another image played in his mind simultaneously for comparison. A version of him with an entirely different aura.
If Voice had a body, it would probably act like this one. His chin raised a fraction, his eyes looking down a smidge, superior and cold. This version of himself would terrify most people he came across.
’Don’t you have your own identity to use, Voice?’ Lucian tried to mock, but there was no heat behind his words.
Voice probably used his identity because it was easier to demonstrate what Lucian was capable of. The projection wasn’t meant to intimidate him. It was meant to be a goal.
’Get into a stance,’ Voice stated, and Lucian found it weird hearing his own voice, albeit deeper and more resonant coming from his mouth. Its body also moved with the commands, showing how a proper stance should look.
Lucian copied him. His feet were shoulder-width apart, with one foot slightly forward. The other projection allowed him to see himself from all angles, so he could correct any mistakes.
He wiggled his toes inside his shoes. This posture felt alien to him. He felt like his legs were stiff as a board, and his arms were up like a scarecrow’s.
’Whatever, I’ll just go with this for now and build some training dummies later,’
he thought to himself, motioning for the brothers to come at him."Let’s continue, just don’t touch the face," Lucian said to them. "Never the face. That’s the only rule I have."
"A spar, then," Jax said, "Two versus two? The two of you against me and the boss here?"
They all looked at Lucian.
"Sounds fair to me," Lucian said, "But let’s make it interesting. If I lose, I’ll pay you triple the usual rate for your time. If I win, you train me for free."
"No," the older brother immediately shot down the offer.
"But I’m weak," Lucian said, and was shot down again.
"Just pay the normal rate," the older one said, "No tricks."
Jax laughed, a short, sharp sound that was almost swallowed by the rain. "Northerners are truly different. Where I come from, a deal’s a deal. We don’t back down from a challenge."
"You’re not from here?" the younger brother asked, his interest piqued.
"No," Jax said, "I’m from the south. A place where you learn to fight before you learn to walk."
A southerner? The brothers gave Lucian a dirty look before sighing in relief. They made the right choice by rejecting his offer.
Lucian dashed towards the younger brother, startling him, but the guy managed to sidestep, his hand shooting out to grab Lucian’s arm.
Lucian twisted, using the momentum to his advantage, and swept the man’s legs out from under him. He fell with a splash, mud and water flying everywhere.
The older brother came at Lucian from the side, his fist raised, but Jax was there, meeting him head-on.
Voice’s instructions were a constant stream of information telling him where to step, how to angle his body, when to breathe. It was overwhelming, but it was also fun. He didn’t have to study on his own while wondering if he was doing it right anymore.
"Ugh─!" Lucian grunted as the younger brother tackled him, driving him into the mud. He flailed, trying to get a grip on the slippery ground, his legs and arms flew everywhere, making him look like a bug flipped onto its back.
He saw his own form struggling from Voice’s eyes, saw the openings, the wasted movements, the clumsy attempts at breaking free. He could see his own mistakes so clearly, yet his body refused to cooperate.
He threw a few sloppy punches that were easily blocked. There was no surprise momentum from earlier to carry him through.
It was an ugly, desperate kind of fighting. He was all sharp angles and panicked jerks, but he was improving. Slowly. He managed to get on his feet again.
’Keep punching. If you want your arms to move faster, just keep swinging them. You’ll build muscle memory, whether you like it or not.’
The younger brother noticed that Lucian began to focus more on his arms, and he took the opportunity to kick his legs out from under him. But Lucian saw this one coming.
He managed to sidestep just enough to avoid the brunt of the kick, his ankle twisting painfully as he landed awkwardly. He gritted his teeth, hissing through the pain, and lunged forward, his head connecting with the man’s chest.
"What the fuck?" the younger brother yelled as Lucian wrapped his arms around his waist and drove him backward, slamming him against the wall of the backyard.
Fists and rain alike pelted down, but none refused to yield.
Lucian’s vision swam, the rain blurring into a grey wash that filled the world. His body screamed with every move, feeling the aches and sharp pains from falls and impacts he’d only half-blocked. Yet, he was still on his feet, swaying but upright.
"How are you still standing?" the younger brother panted, leaning against the wall, his own chest heaving.
"Power of will," Lucian managed to rasp out, a grin splitting his mud-caked face.
The rest of the workers had returned from their work and stood at a safe distance, their heads popping out from the windows and doors of the main house.
They looked at Lucian as if he was some sort of mythical creature, but then they thought about the money and hard work he put in over the years and it only made sense that he’d be able to hold his own.
"BOSS! You got this!" someone from the crowd shouted, and a few others joined in, their voices a ragged cheer, "BOSS! BOSS! BOSS! Show him who’s boss!"
Jax flared his arms in protest, "What about me? I’m fighting too! I’m fighting better than him!"
"BOSS! BOSS! BOSS!" they chanted, ignoring Jax’s complaints.