Strength Based Wizard-Chapter 30. Muscle Man’s Self-Improvement Guide, Part III

Chapter 30

Muscle Man's Self-Improvement Guide, Part III

A quick search on my phone pulls up two places that might fit the bill. The first is in Strongsville, south of downtown. The second is located in Lakewood, out on the west side. Strongsville’s a bit further away, but I could use the time in the car to think and strategize. So, Strongsville it is.

I punch the address into the GPS on my phone, down the rest of my coffee, and head out.

Ace Boxing Gym sits in a strip mall, wedged between a nail salon and one of those discount cell phone stores that’s perpetually “Going Out of Business” and I’m sure exclusively cells burner phones. From the outside, it’s nothing special—just a faded sign, a glass door, and the smell of padded floor mats that I seem to have a supernatural nose for.

I step out of my car, grab my gym bag, and take a deep breath. My body hums with energy, my muscles practically itching in excitement. Ace Boxing Gym was one of the few boxing establishments in Northeast Ohio established to cater to System-enhanced individuals. I step in, ready to take in some epic sparring matches.

The place is… empty.

No trainers barking orders, no rhythmic thudding of gloves against pads. Just the low hum of fluorescent lights mingled with a popular hip hop song turned onto the room’s speakers, and the faint scent of sweat and rubber mats.

Heavy bags hang in neat rows from the ceiling, looking disappointingly normal, not something that can withstand a punch from someone with an enhanced Strength score. The floor is padded, the lockers near the desk are standard metal fare, and in the back, a single boxing ring sits under bright overheads. It looks new, the padding still vibrant, but otherwise unremarkable. No glowing runes, no shifting gravity plates, no void-energy ropes that trap you in until you’ve gone five rounds with a mana-infused heavyweight.

This is my first experience at a System-user’s gym!... I was kind of expecting something more.

I’m still standing there, debating whether I should’ve gone to Lakewood first instead, when a woman steps out from the back office.

She’s tall. Maybe my height. She’s built, too—muscular in a way that’s obvious even under the loose tee she’s wearing, the Ace Boxing logo stretched across her chest. She’s black, with dark eyes that pin me in place, and her dyed hair—a deep, blood-red at the tips—gives her a sharp, no-nonsense edge.

She walks up to the desk, leaning her hands against it in a casual-but-all-business sort of way. “Good afternoon. How can I help you?”

I clear my throat. “Uh—yeah. This is a System-enhanced gym, right?”

The woman nods. “Yeah, this is a System-enhanced gym.” She tilts her head slightly, studying me. “You looking to sign up for a class? We’ve got another scheduled this evening. And usually every morning too.”

“I am,” I say, then shrug. “But, uh, I’ve never boxed before. I was hoping to learn.”

She gives me a once-over, crossing her arms. “You look like you work out. Any other martial arts experience outside of boxing?”

I laugh. “Nope. Never been in a fight in my life.” Unless you count gobblins and giant pigs made of candy, I think.

She doesn’t look impressed. “Huh.” Then, after a beat: “I can do an intro class with you now, if you’ve got time. I don’t have a one-on-one for about an hour.”

I blink. “Uh, really?”

She nods, pulling a tablet from behind the counter and sliding it across to me. “First, I’ll need some information and for you to sign a waiver.”

“Right…!” I take the tablet and fill out the forms. Name, emergency contact, basic health information. There’s a part that asks if I’m System-enhanced, and I check yes.

I sign at the bottom and hand the tablet back.

Jordan reviews the form, then smiles. Just a little. “Okay, Joseph, let’s show you the ropes.”

“Just Joe is fine.” I extend a hand. “And your name?”

“Jordan.”

She takes my hand. Her handshake is firm, just short of crushing. System-enhanced strength? I can’t help but think. Hard to tell, but I make a mental note to be careful.

“Go ahead and change,” she says, nodding toward the locker rooms. “We’ll start with stretching.”

I head to the restroom, swap into my gym clothes, and meet Jordan back on the mat.

She starts us off with some light stretching. Standard stuff—hamstring stretches, shoulder rolls, deep lunges. Then she hands me a jump rope.

“Warm up,” she says.

Luckily, I have jumped rope before, so I get into a rhythm without too much trouble. The rope whips against the mat, steady, controlled. Jordan watches, arms crossed, then gives a short nod.

“Not bad,” she says after a while. “Alright, let’s get started.”

Jordan pulls two cloth wraps from a bin behind the counter and tosses them to me. “First thing’s first: hand wraps.”

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I catch them, fumble them a little, and nod like I know what I’m doing.

She smirks. “You ever wrapped your hands before?”

“Not once.”

“I’ll show you how.” She gestures for me to hold out my left hand and starts wrapping. Her fingers are quick, practiced. “You do this to protect your knuckles, support your wrists, and keep everything tight when you punch.”

I watch closely as she loops the wrap around my wrist, then across my palm, threading it between my fingers before wrapping the knuckles. She does it methodically, making sure everything is snug but not cutting off circulation. Then she hands me the other wrap.

“Now you try.”

I do my best to mirror what she did. It’s not great, but Jordan only corrects me once, tightening one of the loops.

“Decent for a first try,” she says, stepping back. “Alright. No gloves yet. Just get into a fighting stance.”

I shift my feet apart, bend my knees a little, and hold my fists up. This seems right?

Jordan tilts her head. “Not bad,” she lies. “Mind if I adjust you?”

“Go for it.”

She steps in and starts making small corrections. “Turn your body slightly—yeah, like that. Feet a little wider. Loosen up. You’re too stiff. Your heels shouldn’t be flat—stay light on your feet. Knees bent. Elbows in.” She taps my arms into place. “Hands up. Always.”

I try to internalize it, committing the feeling to memory. This is a lot like weightlifting form. Keep your body aligned. Engage the right muscles. Make sure everything’s balanced and in the right position.

“Your head, hips and the center point between your two feet should form a line,” Jordan says. She steps back, evaluates my adjusted stance and nods. “Better. Now, let’s get into punches.”

We start with the jab.

“Left hand,” she says. “Step—jab. Back. Step—jab!” She demonstrates with her own crisp punches.

I follow along, stepping and punching in rhythm. It feels… clumsy. Awkward. But I get the basic movement.

After several repetitions, Jordan changes pace. “Now, the cross.”

She demonstrates, twisting her hips as she throws the punch. Then she gestures for me to do the same.

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I try it.

“Twist your back foot more,” she says.

I do.

“Again.”

I throw another punch.

“Keep your chin tucked to your shoulder as you drive through.”

I do.

Jordan nods. “Good.”

I let out a breath. This is a lot of small details to remember. But I’m getting it. “Okay, what’s next?” I ask.

“Alright,” she says, rolling her shoulders. “Last one for today—the left hook.”

Jordan runs me through the left hook, breaking it down into small pieces. Pivot on the lead foot. Keep my elbow at a ninety-degree angle. Drive the punch with my hips, not just my arm. She has me do it slowly at first, then speeds me up. I feel awkward as hell, but she gives me a nod of approval after a few tries.

“Alright,” she says, stepping away. “Let’s get you hitting something.”

She walks over to a rack of boxing gloves, grabs a pair, and tosses them to me. I slide my hands in and start strapping them up. They feel stiff and padded, bulkier than I expected.

I glance at the heavy bags hanging from the ceiling. They look normal. Just canvas and leather stuffed with sand or whatever. But something about them feels… off. There has to be more to them, right?

“These bags can handle enhanced Strength, right?” I ask, flexing my fingers inside the gloves.

Jordan smirks. “They might look plain, but everything in this gym is made with materials from other Realms. Magically reinforced. Doesn’t matter if you’re Level 1 or Level 20, you’re not breaking anything here.”

I nod. That makes sense. “Guess that means I can go all out?” I ask. No way in hell I’m actually going all out, though. I think of my ruined arm when I was in the Castle Realm and shudder. Yeah, fuck that.

“Within reason.” She gestures at the bag in front of me. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

She starts calling out sequences. “Jab, cross. Jab, jab, cross. Jab, cross, hook.”

I hit the bag, focusing on form, trying to keep my stance solid. The impact feels good. There’s a satisfying thud every time my fists connect, and for the first time since stepping into the gym, I feel like I get it.

Jordan keeps pushing me. “Faster. Stay light on your feet. Hands up.”

I get into a rhythm. My breathing evens out. I start pushing myself, hitting harder, moving quicker. The bag swings, absorbing every hit like a sponge. My knuckles throb inside the gloves, but I don’t stop.

After three rounds, I’m wrecked. Sweat drips down my face. My arms feel like lead. My shoulders burn.

Jordan watches me, arms crossed, looking amused. “Not bad for a first timer,” she says.

I huff out a breath, pulling off my gloves and shaking out my hands. “Not bad?” I wheeze. “I feel like I just got hit by a truck. That’s some serious cardio…!”

She laughs. “That’s how you know you did it right.”

I grab my bag, still in my gym clothes, and head toward the door. Jordan leans against the counter, watching me. “So?” she asks. “You signing up for more lessons?”

I nod, too tired to argue. “Yeah. I’ll take a class later this week.”

“Good. See you then, Joe.”

I pay for the class, she enters me into her schedule, and we bid each other farewell. For now.

I step outside, sucking in fresh air, already feeling tomorrow’s soreness creeping in.

One stop down. One more to go.

The drive to Lakewood is quick, but my arms feel like jelly. I roll my shoulders at a stoplight, trying to shake off the burn from Jordan’s training. Maybe two combat sports in one day was a bit much. But between boxing and BJJ, I figure I’ll have my bases covered. Striking? Check. Grappling? Soon-to-be check. If something does manage to get past my Wizard’s Hands, I’d prefer not to be absolutely useless.

I pull into a small parking lot, spotting the sign for Lakewood Jiu Jitsu Academy. It’s tucked between a laundromat and a vape shop. Very Cleveland. The windows are fogged with condensation, and through the glass, I see people filtering out, sweaty and laughing, some still in their gis, others in street clothes.

Inside, the place is smaller than I expected. White mats cover the floor, and the air smells like detergent and exertion. A few guys are still lingering, chatting near the cubbies, but my focus locks onto the instructor.

He’s a middle-aged with the classic build of someone who’s been a jiu jitsu instructor for years. He’s shorter than me by about a head, with tanned skin, a thick black beard, and curly hair. Bright, hawkish eyes track me as I step inside. His ears are swollen and twisted, the unmistakable badge of a lifetime spent grappling on the mat.

I approach, offering a nod. “Hey. I’m Joseph.”

The man grins, his voice warm. “Kyle. What can I do for you, Joseph?”

I glance around. “I’m interested in learning BJJ. Heard this was the only System-enhanced friendly spot in the area.”

Kyle crosses his arms, considering me. “Hoping to be,” he says. “Right now, all our classes are just… normal folks. But I’ve been looking to draw in some System-enhanced students.”

I frown. “So, there’s nothing for people like me?”

“Not yet.”

Damn. That’s disappointing.

I scratch the back of my head. “What about one-on-ones? Do you do those?”

Kyle strokes his beard, thinking. “Maybe. What’re your stats?”

I rattle them off. When I finish, he chuckles. “A little unbalanced, no?”

I smirk. “A little. But I have my reasons.”

He grins at that. “Alright. Let’s see….” He steps over to a small seating area, digs through a gym bag, and pulls out his phone. He flips through it. “I could fit you in Saturday morning?”

I check my own phone and add the appointment. “Works for me. What time?”

“8am?”

“Perfect!”

Kyle nods, sliding his phone back into his bag. “Good.”

I shake his hand, then head out, already feeling the weight of exhaustion settling in. I could use some protein… and desperately need some post-workout carbs. I look up a nearby smoothie joint as I get back into my car.

One step closer to not getting my ass kicked.

Wait til Jelly Boy and the others witness my kick ass combat skills, I think. I start my car and pull out. I’m almost t-boned when I slam on the break, a System notification springing into my vision.

NEW QUEST!