Ascendency: The 3 System User

The Silent King’s Secret Weapon

The school gym was alive with the sounds of grunts, the rhythmic thud of fists meeting punching bags, and the occasional sharp whistle from Coach Raman. Azlan wiped the sweat from his brow as he finished his last set of speed punches. His muscles ached, but he thrived on the burn. The championship fight was in two weeks, and he was determined to defend his title as the school’s undefeated boxing champ.

“Alright, champ,” Coach Raman called out, tossing Azlan a towel. “That was solid. But you’ve got a sparring session next. New partner today.”

Azlan frowned, catching the towel. “New partner? What happened to Kamal?”

“Out with a shoulder injury,” Coach said, his lips quirking into a smirk. “But don’t worry. This one’s got potential. You might actually sweat for a change.”

Azlan snorted. “Doubt it.”

The gym door creaked open, and Azlan turned to see none other than Isa strolling in, his trademark cocky grin plastered on his face.

“Yo, Azlan!” Isa called out, throwing his bag to the side. “Guess who’s your new punching bag.”

Azlan raised an eyebrow. “You? Seriously?”

Isa shrugged, unwrapping his hands. “Coach says I’ve got potential. Figured I’d show you what I’m made of.”

The two climbed into the ring, the other students gathering around to watch. Isa was a known troublemaker, but stepping into Azlan’s domain? That was something new.

Azlan tightened his gloves, his face unreadable. “You sure about this? I don’t go easy, even on friends.”

Isa grinned, bouncing on his toes. “Bring it on, champ. I’ve got moves you haven’t seen before.”

The bell rang, and Azlan moved first, his footwork precise and controlled. Isa darted to the side, narrowly avoiding a quick jab.

“Not bad,” Azlan muttered, throwing a combination of punches.

Isa blocked one, dodged another, and countered with a wild swing that actually grazed Azlan’s jaw. The onlookers gasped.

Azlan smirked, his eyes narrowing. “Lucky shot.”

Isa grinned, sweat already dripping down his face. “That’s just the warm-up.”

The sparring continued, with Azlan clearly dominating but Isa refusing to back down. Every time Azlan landed a clean hit, Isa came back swinging harder.

“You’ve got grit,” Azlan admitted after a particularly brutal exchange.

“Learned from the best,” Isa panted, clearly exhausted but still grinning.

The session ended with both of them dripping in sweat. Azlan pulled out his mouthguard, nodding in approval.

“Not bad,” he said. “You’ve got raw talent. But you’re reckless. No discipline.”

Isa rolled his eyes, leaning against the ropes. “Yeah, yeah. You sound like my System.”

Azlan froze, his expression suddenly serious. “Your what?”

Isa blinked, realizing his slip-up. “Uh… nothing. Forget I said anything.”

Azlan’s jaw tightened. “You have a System too?”

Isa hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. Why?”

Azlan sighed, removing his gloves. “Because that’s what made me the champ.”

They sat in the empty gym after everyone had left. Azlan leaned against the wall, staring at his hands.

“My System activated two years ago,” Azlan began, his voice quiet. “Back then, I was just another scrawny kid trying to survive high school. One day, it just… appeared. It gave me missions. Train harder, fight smarter. The rewards it gave me made me stronger, faster, better.”

Isa listened intently, his usual smirk replaced by genuine curiosity. “So, the System is why you’re the champ today?”

Azlan nodded. “Partly. The other part is sheer hard work. The System doesn’t hand you anything on a silver platter. You’ve gotta earn it.”

Isa leaned back, letting that sink in. “Guess we’ve got more in common than I thought.”

Azlan glanced at him. “If you’ve got a System, why waste time on nonsense like flirting? You could be doing so much more.”

Isa chuckled. “Hey, everyone’s got their priorities. Mine just happen to include Stacy.”

Azlan rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide a small smile. “You’re hopeless.”

The next week was brutal. Azlan pushed himself harder than ever, knowing his opponent in the championship, Zafran, was no joke.

During one session, Isa showed up uninvited, leaning against the ropes as Azlan sparred with another partner.

“You call that a punch?” Isa teased. “Even I could do better.”

Azlan ignored him, landing a perfect uppercut that sent his partner stumbling back.

“Alright,” Azlan said, pulling off his gloves. “Get in here, loudmouth.”

Isa grinned. “Thought you’d never ask.”

The sparring became a daily ritual, with Isa serving as both a partner and a constant source of banter. Despite their differences, the two began to bond, their shared Systems and determination creating an unspoken camaraderie.

One afternoon, as Azlan practiced alone, he noticed someone sitting in the bleachers. It was Sofia, the quiet, bookish girl from his class. She was scribbling in a notebook, occasionally glancing up to watch him.

Azlan’s heart skipped a beat. Sofia wasn’t like the other girls who fawned over him. She was different—reserved, thoughtful. And Azlan had been harboring a crush on her for months.

He took a deep breath and walked over, wiping his hands on a towel. “Hey, Rika.”

Sofia looked up, startled. “Oh. Hi, Azlan. I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

“You’re not disturbing me,” Azlan said, sitting beside her. “What’re you working on?”

Rika hesitated before showing him her notebook. It was filled with sketches of various scenes—some of the gym, some of him mid-punch.

Azlan blinked. “You’ve been drawing me?”

Sofia’s cheeks turned red. “I-it’s for an art project. I needed an interesting subject, and you… well, you move with a lot of focus. It’s inspiring.”

Azlan felt his ears grow warm. “Thanks. I didn’t know you were an artist.”

Rika smiled shyly. “There’s a lot people don’t know about me.”

As Rika packed up her things to leave, Azlan’s System chimed.

[New Mission: Win Rika’s Heart.]

[Objective: Build trust and show genuine interest in her passions.]

Azlan stared after her, his determination renewed. He’d conquered the boxing ring, but this? Winning Sofia’s heart might be his toughest fight yet.

Just as Azlan was gearing up to chase after Rika, a voice interrupted his thoughts.

“She’s out of your league, Azlan.”

Azlan turned to see Zafran, his championship opponent, leaning casually against the doorway.

“Focus on the fight, champ,” Zafran said with a smirk. “Leave the girl to someone who can actually keep up with her.”

Azlan’s jaw tightened, his fists clenching. “Careful, Zafran. You might be biting off more than you can chew.”

Zafran laughed, walking away. “We’ll see, champ. Saturday’s coming.”

Azlan watched him go, his mind racing. He had two battles to prepare for now—one in the ring and one for Rika’s heart.

To Be Continued…