The Wise

The Wise

  • Genre: YA/Teen
  • Author: Mavi
  • Chapters: 4
  • Status: Ongoing
  • Age Rating: 18+
  • 👁 0
  • 3.0
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Steven is an underground fighter. His greatest desire is to become one of the greatest fighters in the world, however, his career has stalled at a point from which he does not know how to get out. At least, until he meets Carlos, a young man who comes to challenge him on his territory. Who is capable of fighting like no one I know. After being beaten, Steven decides that he wants to receive the same training from him and that's when the two embark on a journey to find Carlos' old trainer. A mysterious man they call: The Master

Chapter 1

Steven and Michael.


The notification sounds on my phone woke me up. I tried to ignore it by putting a pillow over my head, but more and more started coming, completely ruining my attempt to go back to sleep.

I stretched out a hand to the table to take the cell phone. Turned on the screen, noticing that I had at least a dozen WhatsApp messages from the same number. I snorted as I sat on the edge of the bed, tossing my hair and sliding my finger across the screen.

<<Damn imbecile.>> I thought with annoyance.

The alerts were from Michael Garcia, aka my best friend, at least until he got the fantastic idea of harassing me at five in the morning. Honestly, if half the people in the world didn't make me want to shoot myself, this idiot probably wasn't my only friend, and I wasn't his. But, anyway, no one said that the world was fair, quite the contrary.

Of course, I couldn't play the innocent if Michael wrote to me, especially at this hour, surely there was money involved. The only old ones I liked were the ones that came on green paper and had the face of some president of the United States. And lets just say that my friend was an expert at getting them, preferably by handfuls, of course. His message was clear and precise, I didn't waste much time reading it.

<<I'll wait for you at the golden snake, you have twenty minutes. >>

A charming man ... Don't you think? However, don't be fooled, in person he's even worse tempered, I honestly don't understand how he always ended up in trouble when we were in high school. That is one of the great mysteries of life, one that I did not have the time or want to analyze in the middle of the night. I walked to the bathroom of the small apartment that I shared with that rat and took a quick shower.

I had known Michael since I was twelve, in boxing classes my mother had forced me to take. Supposedly to keep my mind off other things and prevent me from ending up in a gang or something. I am sorry to say that their efforts did not bear any fruit.

However, going backs to the topic of Michael, we coincided in the same institution and we shared the same taste for fights. I lost count of how many we got into, especially with boys from higher classes. Sometimes we made them eat dust and other times we were the ones who tasted them.

His mother and mine also became friends, I suppose that always being away from the principal's office and sharing problematic children ends upbringing people together, especially if they had so much time to talk to each other.

Things changed when it was time for us to go to university, I needed to work to be able to pay for it. Unfortunately I had not been a privileged brain and it was practically impossible for me to obtain a scholarship; Michael did not attend. Instead, he dedicated himself to things a little more ... discreet, to calls them somehow.

Summing it up, he scammed people for Tinder, hacking Facebook accounts, credit cards posing as anonymous (in the latter it did not go well, nobody believed he was anonymous). He also works selling drugs on a neighborhood corner and on his first day he was arrested because it turns out that the person, he sold to was a policeman. The only good thing was that they gave him little time and in the blink of an eye he was out of jail.

He currently worked nothing more and nothing less than organizing clandestine fights in skate parks or abandoned houses. I know, I hadn't learned anything while behind the bars, unless you counted how to attract more trouble. I already warned you, one day we would both end up dead because of your damn irresponsibility. Although I couldn't be hypocritical enough to complain, I was making good money, compared to my previous jobs.

In addition, I participated on several occasions in one or another fight, stellar. In a single night I managed to earn up to four thousand dollars, it was a very good pastime. Clearly, I had a second job, washing cars because, then I wouldn't have a way to explain to my mom where the hell the money came from to buy me certain luxuries.

I turned on the shower and the icy water hit my face, I internally cursed Michael for spending all the hot water, I'd deal with him when we saw each other. I am undefeated in 18 fights and because of this, more people always came betting their money, let's say that, in that place, I felt totally invincible.

I closed the shower and wrapped a towel around my body, a strange feeling was taking over my body more and more, as if I was being warned about something. I decided to ignore her right now I just had the head to concentrate on my next fight which would be at dawn.

Club members liked drama so every important fight we did before the sun came up just to add more suspense to the story. Question. People went for the show, not so much for the fight.

I slipped a gray sweatshirt over my arms and slipped into sweatpants, slipping on my sneakers last. I picked up the keys to the apartment and went down the stairs two by two, once on the street I started jogging to speed up the warm-up, I punched the air for every meter I ran.

The Golden Snake was a fight club that was located deep in the neighborhood where I lived. Michael and I had discovered the abandoned house a few months ago and turned it into the main headquarters, here the athletes came to exercise in a kind of gym. The house was two stories and had a brown siding, though it was already peeling. I looked from side to side, to make sure no one was seeing me.

Inside were already a few men and women, dressed in their best clothes, waiting for the show to begin. I wondered what the populace would think when they saw how the elite of our city and even from other places. Betting to see young people beat each other in a ring until one of them bled.

I didn't think they'd get that many vote, but after all that wasn't my business and if I'd learned anything in my short life, it was not to stick my nose where I wasn't called.

The smell of alcohol floated in the air along with the aroma of cigarettes, the place had three spaces; the first, which was where he was, here the guests came to rub shoulders with each other, showing off who earned the most money among all of them.

There were elegantly set tables and a huge gold chandelier hung from the ceiling, practically the perfect front in case the police happened to show up. The second was conditioned as a bar, with an extensive bar and a cellar stocked with the best drinks, anything could be said about us. Except that we did not treat the hand that fed us well, its checkbook was the only thing that kept us interested.

Finally, we reach the third level or basement. That was where the magic happened because it was where the fighting cages were, together with the small stands that surrounded them that was, in short, my workplace. I ignored everyone in the room and took the stairs that would take me to the jaws of hell.

The place was beginning to fill up, it was almost at capacity, so I had to move carefully through the crowd of people until I reached my dressing room. I'm surprised I don't find Michael snooping around anywhere, but I guess he's setting everything up.

I quickly washed my face and looked at my reflection in the mirror hanging in front of me. The dressing room, if it could be called that, was just a small room with a sofa big enough to rest on after each match. Along with an emergency kit for injuries.

I dropped into the furniture and began to wrap the palm of my hands and feet with gauze, once I finished with that. I changed my clothes for black overalls and a robe of the same color. Look at the time on the wristwatch, there were five minutes left before the fight began.

I growled. Michael always did the same to me, we agreed to see each other before everything and then he disappeared into who the hell knows where. He was earning himself a broken rib or two, if he was in a good mood. Someone knocked on my door when time was up and I followed Adam, one of the guys who worked here.

The light that illuminated the ring blinded me for a few moments, making me squint. When I was finally able to recover my sight, I realized that the entire public had been silent. Then, I remembered that the announcer called out my fight nickname: Raven.

I went up to the stage taking off my robe on the way, people came out of their stupor and began to applaud, calling out my name. Everyone knew me because they knew who was the leader. One of the most important characteristics in this business, is that we did not know who we would fight until the day came. A psychological game that allowed fighters to act more on instinct than logic, which led them to feel more desperate and make more mistakes.

I stood there waiting for my opponent to be announced, I wouldn't accept it in front of Michael, but I was really interested to know who it was. Never underestimate the enemy that their predecessors were losers not mean that the next one will be too.

I felt an anxious tingling going down my hands, it had been a long time since. I had been intoxicated by the emotion of a fight, maybe this was a good night. The public was silent just like with me, pay attention to the name of the fighter.

—In this corner we have our challenger! —he said with a sales smile. —Too brave or too stupid to fight the king! —He yelled to excite the rest. —Let's welcome… The Falcon! —he announced, stepping aside, letting me see the fighter.

I knew him, he was a new boy who had recently arrived in the country, he couldn't remember his name, but he knew he had troublemaker's friends and was barely learning English.

He looked calm, his look denoted that he was as determined as me to do a KO. They made him take off his shirt to avoid grabs and stuff, he had a very well-structured body, but full of scars on his back and around his arms. The bell rang and we both got into position.

That's how the fight started.

His fighting stance matched perfectly with the way he looked at his opponent, his eyes always on me, but after all, he wasn't fighting a rookie, but the champion himself. He was a simple ghost and I was the owner of all this and that would be demonstrated when he won my tenth fight novel, in front of everyone.

I went straight ahead with the intention of taking down the idiot who thought he was good enough to take me on. He threw a jab, followed by a left hook; he dodges in a very impressive way, very much like Rocky Marciano or any professional boxer.

At that moment he connects me with an uppercut. Which made me step back, then he raised his open hand, hitting me in the right ear to make me lose balance. For a few moments I was lost, it only took that, a single crack for him to attack me with a muay that kick to the chin.

That was it, I fell to the ground, finishing with only three blows and in less than two minutes. My face was quite a poem, to be honest, I was surprised to have lost. My eyes closed momentarily, my head was pounding, ready to explode.

When I regained consciousness between my dizziness and nausea. I saw how Michael was arguing with one of the guys who was in charge of the bets, because he was refusing to pay the boy the money. Claiming that he cheated and that it was an unfair fight ... I wanted to laugh.

A clandestine fights, in an abandoned place. Please! That was anything, but fair.

I made a super human effort to get up, my friend saw me and immediately put one of his arms behind me to support me. He looked worried and I couldn't blame him, I've never seen someone tear me apart like that. I put a hand up to my head and it was stained with blood, I had to see the doctor sooner rather than later.

I didn't have time for this nonsense, so I ordered Michael to give it to him, most likely he needed it just like all of us. He won cleanly and obviously I was going to prepare for the rematch, I would train every fucking day until further notice.

The boy took the money very gratefully and left without saying a word; I don't know if he did it out of arrogance or he didn't understand what I told him ... Anyway, at this moment it was the last of my concerns, Michael took me to the dressing room, where the doctor we had hired for these occasions was already waiting for us.

He attended me quickly and left without asking any questions, like everyone here, he was aware that the greatest virtue you could count on was discretion. That unless you wanted to die in a morbid way. When it was just Michael and me, he gave me a furious look, he didn't look happy at all and the truth was that I wasn't either.

—I'm not in the mood to put up with your claims. —I assured, laying my head on the sofa. Everything was starting to spin, and the medication was making me groggy enough to keep me in limbo.

Michael laughed, devoid of all amusement.

—I hope you have a good excuse for letting you win again. Now tell me ... How much did they pay you? —he asked, leaning against the door. I wasn't high enough that his words didn't make me angry.

—Do you think I sold myself? —I asked, imitating his gesture. I want to believe that it's just the effect of the pills and that he didn't really say what I just heard, for the sake of our friendship I hoped he wasn't hinting at what I think he's doing. —How much do you think it takes to buy me? —I kept asking, I got up carefully to face him. —I don't have a price and if I did, it's obvious that not everyone could pay it. —I spat my words laden with venom.

Michael's face changed, he shook his head a couple of times, as if trying to push an idea from his mind. He then nodded and walked out the door, leaving me alone with a growing feeling of inadequacy.

Chapter 2


Let's just say I've never been good at dealing with the sea of taste that defeat leaves behind. I am and only child, so I have never learned to share with others. That includes the fact that, despite being aware that the boy beat me by all legal means, I still thought that victory was completely mine. I was sitting in the dressing room for at least half an hour, mulling over the matter. My head was about to explode and not precisely because of the blows I had received.

<<To hell with everyone!>>.

I took the jacket I was wearing and the rest of my things, the only thing I thought about was finding that stranger. I had a lot of questions to ask them about his way of fighting, I was not convinced that he was a simple street fighter.

His punches looked like those of a professional and I wanted to know what sports league he belonged to. I told myself that the interest was due to the desire to protect the rest. One was never too careful and it was


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