Chapter 7: The Weight of Victory

The crowd still buzzed with energy, the echoes of the fight lingering in the air. Dikun Silver stood tall, his breathing uneven, sweat dripping down his forehead. Clint groaned on the floor, defeated. The jagged emblem of the Iron Fangs on his jacket no longer held the same fear it once did.

But despite his victory, Dikun felt no relief. His fists ached. His ribs burned from the blows he endured. Every muscle in his body screamed in protest. And yet, the fight had awakened something inside him — a spark that refused to die down.

> System Notification:

Skill Progression: Boxing (F-Class) — 50%

Recognition Gained: Bloodfang High (Moderate)

"Looks like the rumors weren't just talk," a voice broke the tension.

The students parted once more. Graves, the leader of the Iron Fangs, stepped forward. His towering frame and sharp features commanded attention. Unlike Clint, there was no wild aggression in his movements — only cold, calculated authority. The silver chain around his neck gleamed under the fluorescent lights.

Graves's dark eyes locked onto Dikun. "That was entertaining," he said, his tone low and even. "But don't think this means you're untouchable."

Dikun held his ground, refusing to show weakness. "I'm not looking for trouble. But if it comes to me, I'll deal with it."

The corner of Graves's mouth twitched, almost amused. "Bold words. But words don't mean much around here. Power does."

Dikun didn't respond. He knew what Graves meant. In a school ruled by strength, victories like this were temporary. The moment you faltered, the vultures circled.

"Enjoy your win," Graves continued. "But remember — the Iron Fangs don't forget."

With that, Graves turned away, his presence lingering long after he disappeared down the hall.

---

The Aftermath

"That… was insane," Rico's voice broke the silence.

Dikun exhaled sharply, his adrenaline slowly fading. Rico, the wiry student with dark circles under his eyes, had been one of the few who wasn't jeering. He approached with a grin, clearly amused.

"You're a tough bastard, Silver. Didn't think you'd actually pull it off."

"I didn't have much of a choice," Dikun replied, his voice rough. "Clint wasn't exactly taking no for an answer."

Rico chuckled. "Welcome to Bloodfang High. You're not a nobody anymore. You just pissed off the Iron Fangs — congratulations."

"Not sure that's something to celebrate," Dikun muttered.

"Maybe not, but it's better than being invisible," Rico shrugged. "And trust me, you're gonna need all the reputation you can get. You're marked now. Other gangs are gonna see you as a challenge."

Dikun knew he was right. The system had said as much.

> Next Objective: Gain Recognition Within Bloodfang High.

Bonus Objective: Recruit First Member (0/10 Members)

If he wanted to survive, he couldn't just rely on luck. He needed allies.

---

A Plan Forming

Later that evening, Dikun returned to the cramped one-room apartment he called home. The peeling walls and flickering lightbulb were all too familiar. He dropped his bag by the door and sank onto the thin mattress.

The fight replayed in his mind. Every punch. Every dodge. The system had helped him, but it wasn't enough. His strength had grown, but not nearly enough to stand against someone like Graves.

He clenched his fists. Boxing (F-Class) had carried him this far, but if he wanted to rise further, he'd need more than just punches.

"Martial arts."

The thought struck him like lightning. Bloodfang High had fighters of all styles. He'd heard the rumors — students who practiced Muay Thai, Karate, Wrestling, and even Jiu-Jitsu. Each one deadly in its own right.

And the system had already given him the path.

> System Notification:

To Unlock a New Skill: Visit a Gym Specializing in That Martial Art.

It was simple. If he wanted to learn Muay Thai, he'd need to find a Muay Thai gym. The same applied to every other style.

But learning wasn't enough. The system had made one thing clear.

> The More You Use a Skill, the More It Levels Up.

He'd have to fight. Again and again. Not just to survive, but to grow.

---

The Decision

The next morning, Dikun made up his mind. After grabbing a half-eaten loaf of bread from the counter, he set out into the grimy streets of the city. His legs ached, but he pushed forward.

The gyms were scattered across the city. Some were well-known, others hidden beneath the surface — places where only the most desperate sought strength.

But Dikun knew where to start.

A crumpled flyer in his pocket read:

> Iron Fist Muay Thai Gym — First Session Free!

It wasn't far. Just a few blocks down. And if he wanted to stand a chance in the battles to come, he couldn't waste any time.

He pulled the door open, the sound of fists striking heavy bags echoing through the air. The sharp scent of sweat mixed with determination hit him instantly. Fighters of all sizes practiced relentlessly, their trainers shouting corrections over the rhythmic pounding.

A grizzled man with arms like steel approached. His bald head gleamed with sweat, and a jagged scar ran down his cheek.

"First time?" the man growled.

"Yeah," Dikun nodded, his voice firm.

The man's eyes scanned him, sizing him up. "Name's Coach Vero. This isn't some fitness club. You want to learn Muay Thai, you fight. No exceptions."

"I'm not afraid to fight," Dikun said.

Vero's grin was unsettling. "Good. Let's see if you last a round."

The fighters around them paused, their interest piqued. Another test. Another fight. Dikun could already hear the whispers starting again.

But this time, he welcomed it.

---

Next Chapter: Dikun faces his first Muay Thai spar. Will he endure, or will the brutal training break him? His journey to mastering new martial arts begins, and the world of Bloodfang High continues to watch.