The Omega's Fist

2. Rewind

PRESENT

Jason was sweaty, bloody, and tired. It was his third and last match for the day. He walked towards the locker room to freshen up and go home.

For five years, he had been training to become the best fighter among the omegas. Naturally, the titleholder would be famous and rich.

He opened the door to find bouquets of roses lining his desk. Having a male omega for a lover has been an obsession for many. However, for Jason, it was like a nightmare.

He had known that he was an omega since he was twelve. It was inevitable since his mother was an omega too. Knowing your second gender was like having second puberty. You’ll get to know when it comes.

The current society would pay doctors millions of dollars just to know if they were alphas. Why? Because being an alpha was like having a golden ticket to just about anything and everything.

“Cooper! Get this trash out of my locker,” Jason called his assistant. A scrawny omega, younger than him, instantly appeared in front of him.

“Yes, master. I am sorry, your fans were insistent earlier,” apologized Cooper as he held his head low.

“Get them out. You know I dislike roses. They are such a waste of money.”

Jason was pissed off with how his last battle turned out. It was not on par as he wanted it. He wasted too many minutes and wasn’t able to execute many actions.

“Oh, you are here!” That was when Alpha Garsen walked into the room, frowning. The Alpha was so mad, and his words sizzled when he spoke. “You call that a fight, Jason? I could have done better!”

He knew the drill. A sub-par match means a lower p*****t. Alphas are rare; only 10% of the population can have this gender. However, the number of existing alphas is still way bigger than the omegas. Jason’s kind is only around 1% and is still depleting.

“I am sorry, Alpha Garsen. I did my best. He was just a lousy opponent. I will do better in the next match.” Jason kneed in front of him as he said this. The floor was made of ceramic tile and was rough against his skin. His knee hurt, but he kept kneeling anyway.

Alpha Garsen was just a little older than him, but he was clever. It was the brute who helped Jason when he was still wandering through the street. He was young and hungry back then, and he stole from a nearby shop in their neighborhood. The police caught him when he accidentally bumped into the alpha. Seeing how agile he was, Alpha Garsen instantly knew that he had found his fighter. In the end, Alpha Garsen bailed him out and hired him to train.

Jason became his fighter for the Ultimate Omega Fighting Competition. It is an underground competition where male omegas fight for their lives. It is a sought-after entertainment show for the wealthiest. Imagine the pleasure of watching a naturally caring and kind-hearted male omega turn into a killing machine. The rule of the game was simple — survive, and you will live your life without worrying about safety and money.

“I did not pay for your training just to lose millions. Get your act together, Jason!” Alpha Garsen snarled. The alpha wasn’t the type to carefully select his words. One last disgusted stare and he walked out and slammed the door at Jason without even looking back.

Jason’s next fight was in the next two days. He stood up, grabbed the bottle of bourbon, and poured himself a glass on the rocks. “Just a few fights more, and I will be a free man,” he reminded himself.

Holding a glass in one hand and the bottle in the other, he sat on the couch. He couldn’t care less about the seat getting stained by his blood. Everything should be fine as long as he had his concoction. Using the remote, he adjusted the light in the room to something warmer—he set it to day mode. He then turned on his television to watch the replay of his fight.

He liked to watch every game and study himself during fights. It’s a good way to learn from his mistakes and replicate what gives him success. He wanted to prove himself and make people see how a scrawny orphaned boy turned into the best fighter of all time.

It is only a matter of time before he dethrones his nemesis, Scott.

Jason was already down with his second glass when he paused the game and poured himself another shot of bourbon. His eyes were sharp as he stared at his screen, watching the exact moment he punched his opponent’s jaws. He dissected his stance and noted the errors he made. Having a wider stance, he did not bend too much, making his core unstable. He almost fell to the ground with that mistake.

He chuckled at the thought. One wrong move and he died in the season— such a fragile life he had.

He liked to drown his sorrows with alcohol along with the pain of the punches. As he sipped his third glass, he reminisced about his training days.

FLASHBACK ׀ FOUR YEARS AGO

“Come on, Jason! Is that all you got?” His trainer, Elliot, taunted him by pumping his gloves in the air, signaling him to come at him.

Alpha Garsen bought an old boxing ring and converted it into his personal training ground. Jason just started a week ago and only knew very few words when it comes to fighting — jab, cross, upper-cut, hook and kick.

His skin was hugging his bones. He was visibly not ready for any type of fight, but then there he was, sparring with Elliot in broad daylight.

He jabbed at Elliot, but his trainer was quick to dodge.

“Another jab, jab, hook.” Elliot was polishing his stamina along with his combos.

Jason did as the man said but failed to land a hit. He had arm-length but lacked speed and accuracy.

“Good. Now try to move your feet as you do it. You are as stiff as a log. Repeat!”

Jason rearranged his stance to correct himself. His left foot was forward, while his right foot was aligned to his shoulders at 90 degrees. He let go of his first jab, twisting his body along with his feet. His fist landed on Elliot’s glove for the first time—a milestone for Jason.

“You are doing great! Keep that up. This time put some power into it.” Elliot ordered as he met Jason’s jabs with his gloves. The punches were making loud thuds one after another. “Now let’s try cross, jab, cross combo. Ready.”

Elliot raised his hands, and Jason went to a defensive stance. He stepped forward with his left, then synced his cross at the same time. His fist hit Elliot, but Elliot did a cross as well. His trainer got his face, cracking his lips.

Jason wiped his blood and returned to a defensive stance. “How long should I do this? I have little energy,” he complained while panting hard. However, Elliot did not respond fast and just pumped his fist in the air.

“Well. . . as long as you are breathing,” Elliot finally said after a long while before ordering, “Punch me.”

“Fine. If I had another choice, I would not have taken this offer. However, the pay is good. It was hard to turn down—”

Jason bragged about his monthly salary as he trained to fight for the Ultimate Omega Fighting Competition.

“Stop talking and punch, you p***y. I have tons of clients who would die to be in your place. Now come at me!” Elliot screamed, raising his fists towards his face.