The gym smelled of old sweat. The walls, stained by the passage of time and splattered with old fight posters, were silent witnesses to countless battles fought. In the center of the ring, a middle-aged man, his gaze lost on the horizon, hit the punching bag with a force that contradicted his tired appearance. He was Aarón Fernández, a former world champion who had watched the sport he loved corrupt from within.

Fernández had been a legend in his time. His fists had left an indelible mark on boxing, but greed and manipulation by those in power had ended his career and his faith in the sport.

Fernández hit the bag with fury, leaving behind all the technique he had learned in his years as a boxer. He was furious.

Aarón Fernández's Point of View

I clenched my fists in rage.
"I still can't believe that everything that was boxing is slowly disappearing like this. But that’s no longer my problem, I’ve retired, I have nothing to do with them. The problem is, what am I going to do now? I never had a plan for after retirement. I was so obsessed with the sport and being the best that I didn’t realize that at some point it would all end. Now I have no reason to live. But if there’s one thing boxing has taught me, it’s to fight and not give up. For now, the best thing will be to go home and have dinner."

On the way home, my attention was drawn to a group of people shouting enthusiastically, "Fight! Fight! Fight!" I couldn’t help but drift into the memories of my first fight. It was a wonderful feeling...

"No, I won’t fight again, nor will boxing ever be what it was. The sport that once captivated me no longer exists."

For some reason, I decided to approach the source of the shouts. There was a throng of people gathered in a circle, some with more than blood running through their veins.

But the casual noises of the drunks were drowned out by what was beyond. There were two people fighting, clearly with no technique. Still, I enjoyed it. They fought with the most primal and violent energy, without dodges or defense, not even with their hands up. It was just an exchange of punches without cease, with the sole intention of knocking the other out. An idea quickly sprang into my head, but it was crazy. It would be impossible.
I decided to continue my way home. In the background, I could hear one of the fighters from before falling abruptly, signaling the end of the fight.

Once home and after dinner, I decided to go to bed. It had been a tough day, and I fell into a deep sleep without any trouble.

The next morning, as on many other occasions, I felt empty.

"I don’t even know how long I’ve been like this, it’s getting harder and harder to find a reason to get up."

Then I received a message from an old friend:
"Hey, how’s everything going? Are you handling retirement well? I know for someone as ambitious as you, it won’t be easy."

I wasn’t in the mood to reply, but after thinking about it for a bit, I decided to call him. He had something I needed, and I had nothing to lose.

"Look who finally decided to call me."

"That’s not important right now, I have an idea that might interest you."

"We haven’t talked in so long and the first thing you bring up is business? … I’m listening."

"It might be crazy, but you know I have nothing left, so if it doesn’t work out, I won’t lose anything either."

"Yeah, damn, you love keeping me in suspense until the last moment. It’s not much different from how you used to fight, nothing was certain until the last second."

"My plan is clear. Gather the best talents, both professionals and street fighters, and offer them the chance to reinvent boxing. A wild, honest boxing where talent and passion would be the only judges. Boxing that would restore the sport’s greatness and its ability to inspire and stir the blood of the spectators."

"If you want my honest opinion… You’ve lost it, but you know what, I’m going to help you, because if not, I think you’ll do something foolish and it’ll get worse. Tell me what you need, and I’ll make the calls."

Using the money I had accumulated during my years as a boxer and a few contacts, I rented 7 abandoned buildings, one on each of the Canary Islands. With the help of a few loyal friends, I transformed them into a state-of-the-art training complex. A place isolated from the world, where a select group of boxers could train and live together.
The plan was ambitious, but it was worth trying.

Invitations began to reach the darkest corners of the boxing world. Young prospects, street fighters hungry for glory, all were called to this new era. The promise was simple: elite training, the best facilities, and the opportunity to become a legend.

As the first boxers arrived, I watched them with a mix of hope and nervousness. They were a heterogeneous group, united by the same passion: boxing. Some came from families of boxers, others from the most dangerous streets of the city. But they all shared the same dream: to reach the top.

At that moment, I realized I had started something much bigger than I had imagined. I had created a revolution where talent and determination would merge to give life to a new generation of champions. And I, a retired old lion, was ready to guide them on this new adventure.