Skill-Up: I Level from Everything!-Chapter 30: Read the Fight, Read the Future

After the earlier incident, order was finally restored—especially after the head of security stepped in, issuing a firm warning about the strict ban on using special abilities inside the arena.

Leandro, still sprawled unconscious from Kyle's devastating punch, was confirmed to be facing severe disciplinary action. The boxing club's management reinforced the club's core rule: this was a 'friendly' combat space for the unawakened—not a playground for monsters to flaunt their powers.

Back in the ring, the fights resumed to a roaring crowd. Real combat had always been the highest form of entertainment in this world.

Meanwhile, on the second floor, Ronan—having received light treatment—sat comfortably beside Kyle. The two of them were enjoying exclusive food and drinks reserved for VIPs as they watched the ongoing matches below.

Kyle was giving a full breakdown of Ronan's fighting style. He said it was already good and efficient—which, frankly, wasn't surprising.

"...and especially with every one of your punches, I noticed something... unusual. There's some kind of invisible energy behind them that makes each strike more effective. It creates an effect that feels like... a fracture, or a stab?" Kyle asked, eyes narrowing in curiosity.

Ronan didn't answer right away. He simply stared at Kyle in astonishment. This man hadn't just read the flow of battle—he had somehow sensed the precise effect of Fracture Drive.

"Come on, don't look at me like that," Kyle said with a slight smirk. "I told you I'd give honest feedback. At the very least, be honest with the situation—and with yourself."

Ronan took a breath and replied, "Alright, I'll tell you. It's one of my skills. Every punch I throw carries a penetrating effect that targets bones more precisely. And humans, with their 206 bones, are the perfect targets. I call it Fracture Drive—and yeah, it's one of my top three skills."

Kyle nodded slowly, absorbing every word. His expression was serious, but a spark of interest lit up his eyes. Nothing about Ronan's explanation sounded like a lie—it all made perfect sense.

"That makes me curious," he said at last. "Actually, I want to try it. Hit me with that skill of yours."

His tone was casual, but the thin smile that followed carried a challenge.

Ronan raised an eyebrow. "You sure?"

"Yeah, of course. Don't worry about me," Kyle replied confidently. "I'm way stronger than you. Probably the strongest person in this entire place."

Ronan studied him for a moment, then gave a small nod. After seeing what Kyle had done earlier, he had no reason to doubt that claim.

"Alright. Where should I hit?"

Kyle lifted his right arm. "Here. Go ahead."

"Alroight, I'll start," Ronan said, standing up and getting ready.

To activate his skill, all he needed to do was imagine it. No intense focus, no chanting, no special breathing techniques like most fighters. It was a privilege—a gift from the system he possessed.

And now, he let the punch fly, striking Kyle's arm.

THUMP.

The dull sound of flesh meeting force echoed softly. A few heads nearby turned to look.

Kyle gave a slow nod. His eyes narrowed in assessment. "Yeah... I can feel it. There's this subtle piercing sensation. Not normal pain. It's... unique."

Ronan frowned. The comment felt odd—somewhere between a compliment and an unsettling observation. freewēbnoveℓ.com

"Keep going," Kyle said, raising his arm again. "Don't stop until I say so."

Ronan looked at him suspiciously. "You're not some kind of masochist, are you? I'm not trying to be part of a weird fetish or anything."

Kyle let out a short laugh. "Come on, do I really look like that kind of guy?"

Ronan grinned. "Just messing with you."

Kyle shook his head lightly and lifted his arm once more. "Remember what I said."

Ronan nodded, then resumed the assault.

THUMP!

Once.

THUMP!

Twice.

Three.

Four.

Five.

Ten.

THUMP!

Fifteen.

THUMP!

Twenty.

CRACK!

"Stop," Kyle said flatly, voice calm but firm.

Ronan froze mid-strike. That sound... it was too real to ignore. People nearby had started to glance their way, confused and curious.

He looked down at Kyle's arm. One glance was all it took—a faint fracture was visible beneath the skin. The arm was... actually broken.

"You okay?" Ronan asked, slightly hesitant.

Kyle took a deep breath, then gave a slow nod. "Yeah... I'm fine. It's just—fascinating." His eyes locked onto Ronan like he was trying to solve a newly discovered puzzle. "I could feel every one of your strikes. That skill of yours... it's always active. Constantly. But it doesn't feel like an active skill. It's more like a passive. So why? How?"

Ronan didn't answer immediately. He just gave a faint smile.

"I'm just throwing stones into a lake," he said quietly. "But somehow, every time I throw, the ripples are always the same. Maybe it's the stone that's unique... or maybe the lake has its own rules."

Kyle narrowed his eyes. "A metaphor?"

"Yeah," Ronan replied. "I'd rather not know the exact reason... than risk changing how I throw."

Kyle gave a short laugh—not because the joke was funny, but because he appreciated the thought behind it. "You know how to hide your secrets well. I'll give you points for that. But remember, not every lake stays still forever."

A few seconds later, the bruises and damage on Kyle's arm began to fade. In mere moments, it looked completely unscathed—as if nothing had ever touched it.

Ronan watched in silence, fascinated. If that was a skill, then the possibility of acquiring it one day... wasn't just a dream. He just needed to trigger it—and wait.

"Anyway," Kyle continued, glancing at Ronan with newfound interest, "With you still at the third tier of the Human Realm, breaking my arm using just one skill—that's already impressive."

Ronan gave a subtle nod.

"If you keep honing it... maybe one day that skill will evolve into something that surpasses the limits of your realm."

Ronan offered a small smile. He knew his path didn't need to follow tradition. All he needed was skill points—and time.

---

An hour passed. Instead of quieting down, the boxing club grew even livelier. The roar of the crowd, the echoing footsteps, and the pounding fists filled the air.

Ronan and Kyle were still seated side by side, watching match after match unfold while making light conversation. Somehow, in just a few short hours, they'd grown more familiar with each other.

Every fight brought something new—but what truly left Ronan speechless was Kyle's uncanny ability to predict everything before it happened.

"...and that—watch, sidestep, then a jab to the face. KO," Kyle said, pointing at the ring.

Inside, two young fighters faced off. One was bulky and aggressive, the other lean and nimble.

The fight moved fast. But the nimble one danced out of reach, sidestepped at just the right angle, and—jab!—a clean strike hit his opponent square in the face.

The muscular fighter stumbled, lost balance, and collapsed unconscious. KO.

Exactly as Kyle had predicted.

Ronan turned to him, almost in disbelief.

Kyle just smirked, then casually said, "If you want, I can teach you how to read a fight like that. To the point where you can predict the winner—before they even throw a punch."

He turned to look at Ronan, his expression calm but compelling. "As long as you join House Ashbourne. Join us, and I'll treat you like my own brother."

Ronan raised an eyebrow, caught off guard. He hadn't expected another tempting offer. House Ashbourne—he hadn't heard the name before, but they were definitely one of the ancient houses.

"We just met a few hours ago. Why are you so confident in me that you'd offer something that big?" he asked flatly.

Kyle grinned wide but didn't answer right away. He lifted his glass and took a slow sip.

"You've seen how I read fights," he said at last. "But do you think that's the only thing I can read? I also know this isn't the first time you've received an exclusive offer."

Ronan stared at him in silence, then gave a faint smile.

"And can you read that I'm going to turn you down, too?"

Kyle swirled the glass in his hand, staring into the liquid like it held the future.

"We're not the type to rush into choosing sides," he said calmly. "But when the time comes... you'll pick the path that brings you closest to victory."

Ronan said nothing. Kyle was truly... unique. Hard to read, sharp, and far too intelligent to be ordinary.

His eyes slowly drifted back down to the arena. Another match was heating up.

Every move—jab, step, guard—felt like part of a brutal, orchestrated symphony.

Without realizing it, Ronan began syncing with the rhythm. His eyes followed the footwork, the breathing patterns, the subtle gaps in each fighter's stance.

Then, a moment came. His body tensed ever so slightly.

'Uppercut,' he thought, instinctively.

And as if answering that subconscious cue, one of the fighters landed a clean uppercut right on his opponent's jaw.

Ronan froze. That wasn't a coincidence. That was... something else.

Suddenly, the system's hologram materialized in front of him.

[Unique Skill Acquired: Tactical Insight]