Bully Lord

Part-35

Relief washed over James, because he knew it would be shamefull if he retreat himself after challanging Sourov. Two weeks!  It was a chance, a precious window of opportunity. He could use this time to refine his skills, to master his thunderclap, and perhaps even learn some basic judo techniques from Coach Gin (if he could convince the stoic coach, of course).

Sourov, however, let out a frustrated groan. "Two weeks?" he whined. "Why wait that long?"

Coach Gin ignored him, fixing James with a steady gaze. "So, James," he said, "are you in?"

James met the coach's gaze, a spark of determination lighting up his eyes. He straightened his back, a newfound confidence radiating from him.

"Yes, Coach," he said, his voice firm. "I'm in."

Disappointment gnawed at James as he left the gym, that day. Two weeks. It felt like both a lifetime and a blink of an eye. Coach Gin's words echoed in his head: "get yourself up to Sourov's level."  Looking at his own scrawny frame compared to Sourov's, James felt a pang of doubt. He'd been carried away by his newfound power, overestimating his abilities. Sure, he could slap Ryan across the room, but Ryan had been caught off guard, fueled by arrogance.  A seasoned Judo student like Sourov was a different story altogether.  The weight gap, the skill difference – these were realities James couldn't ignore.

Next day, reaching the training area, James spotted the familiar punching bag hanging from the ceiling. It wasn't the most glamorous training equipment, but it was what he had.  He approached Coach Gin, who was supervising a group of students.

"Coach," James began, his voice laced with a hint of nervousness, "can I use the punching bag?"

Coach Gin glanced at James, then at the punching bag.  A flicker of understanding crossed his face. "Sure," he said with a curt nod. "Just be careful not to overdo it."

Relief flooded James. At least he could practice his thunderclap.  He wasn't about to reveal the strangeness of the Bully System, but practicing his core skill without drawing suspicion was crucial.

With a renewed sense of purpose, James approached the punching bag.  He stretched his arms, warmed up his muscles, and visualized the blue window with its ever-increasing "Thunderclap Skill" statistic.  He needed to increase his power, his precision, and most importantly, his stamina.  He couldn't afford another blackout like the one that followed his training frenzy at home.

As he launched into a series of thunderclaps, the rhythmic thud against the punching bag echoed through the training area.  The other students glanced at him with a mix of curiosity and amusement.  James ignored them, focusing on the sensation in his hand, the surge of energy with each blow.  The feeling was exhilarating, addictive even, but he was careful not to push himself too hard.

Every now and then, he would steal a glance at Sourov, who was practicing Judo throws with a partner. The sight of Sourov's effortless technique served as a potent reminder of the challenge ahead.  But James refused to be discouraged.  He had two weeks. Two weeks to refine his skills, to unlock the full potential of his thunderclap, and maybe, just maybe, to bridge the gap between him and the formidable Sourov.