Greg Veder vs The World

Grind 2.5

Greg raised his fist up to his face, doing his very best to ignore the weight on his wrist even as it threatened to bring his arm down. Raising his second limb to waist level, he spun on his heel and struck out into the air with a bare fist.

Snapping his fist back to his waist, he launched a low kick at his imaginary opponent. Sweat dripped down his chest as he halted the kick, jumping backwards until his bare skin was only a few inches away from one of the basement walls.

He moved forward, taking the offensive once again and snapping out a quick jab with his right. Spinning, he launched another with his left, a cross this time. Continuing, Greg threw out a hail of punches, unwilling to stop his barrage against the opponent in his head. His hand came up again, a palm to parry a strike.

He threw out another palm, not for a soft deflection but a hard strike, aiming for what would be a neck. Another hail of blows was launched, sweat dripping from Greg's body with every strike, his breath coming harder and faster as each blow met nothing but air. His hair clung to his scalp at this point, a mass of sweat acting like adhesive and glueing his blond locks into uncomfortable clumps on top of his head. Even still, he continued.

Ability Level Up!

Basic Fighting Lv 6 (XP: 45%)

The best fighter is not a Boxer, Karate or Judo man. The best fighter is someone who can adapt to any style.

Basic Fighting involves the understanding of proper stances as well as the correct way to throw and block a kick or punch. Increases damage of punches and kicks by 4%

Basic Footwork Lv 8 (XP: 70%)

Everyone has a plan until they get kneed in the dick.

Basic Footwork involves keeping your balance and controlling your positioning during a fight. Increases chance of dodging a punch or kick by 5%

He'd been at this for only an hour, starting immediately after he'd gotten out of the shower to wash the blood and grime off his body.

Shadow-boxing.

Shadow-boxing was an idea he'd had last night, several hours after his mom drove him home. He'd heard of boxers punching at the air and martial artists practicing their katas to improve their skill. It all seemed to work for them, so Greg only thought it made sense to try it out for himself.

His two original fighting abilities had levelled rather impressively over the past hour, his [Basic Footwork] making the most improvement out of the two.

Making progress. Greg thought to himself, blocking a set of fake punches before retaliating with his own. This is so great! I cannot wait till Friday. The corner of Greg's mouth lifted into an eager smirk.

I'll show Sophia some of this… Greg threw several strikes, aimed at an imaginary solar plexus, his hands managing to move rather smoothly despite the weight. He spun back, throwing several jabs to what would be his opponent's back.

Some of these… His leg snapped up in a sharp kick before he spun on his heel and struck out with a surprisingly fast heel strike, jumping forward and slamming an elbow into some imagined body part.

And a little bit of this! Greg snapped his hand out in a quick palm strike, his other hand pulled back in a tight fist. Greg's smirk widened slightly. Let's see her try to stop that. Deciding to put an end to his exercise for the day, Greg dropped his hands to his sides, relaxing his stance into a normal standing position. "[Inventory: Limb Weights]."

As the heavy items on his limbs vanished in a blink of blue light, Greg let out a tired sigh. His shoulders slumped forwards as he bent at the waist, his body rather drained after nearly a complete hour of practicing his fighting. After using up his last full bottle of Gatorade to keep his exercise going at the same rate, Greg was down to simply waiting for his Will to climb back up on its own.

In fact, that reminded him of something. "[Will]."

Willpower: 35/96

"Huh, not bad. That's at least," Greg blinked, doing a quick bout of mental math. "24 Angry Straights. I call that progress." A moment later, Greg's smirk turned into a tired smile and he made his way over to the other end of the basement to grab a white towel he had thrown over the handrail of the treadmill. Simply rubbing the cloth into his face was good enough for him now, wiping off some of the sweat and grime that an hour-long workout could accumulate on his pores.

As he tossed the white cotton fabric over his shoulders, Greg made his way over to the stairs. The moment his foot touched the bottom step, Greg froze.

Ding-Dong!

He blinked. The doorbell? Did Mom forget her key again?

Shaking his head, Greg ran up the basement stairs, the towel bouncing on his shoulder. As he opened the basement door, the doorbell rang once more, and Greg repressed an exasperated sigh.

"Hold your horses, Mom!" He shook his head as he walked towards the door. "You're always telling me to carry a spare key, too." His hands closed around the doorknob and he opened it, a smile on his face. "Maybe next time, you can follow your adv-"

"Hey there, Greg."

The smile vanished instantly as Greg froze up, his mouth slightly open in shock.

"Greg?"