The moment Hiroyuki's body hits the canvas, the arena erupts, but no voice rises louder, sharper, or more violently alive than the Cruel King's Army.
For two rounds they'd been silent, uneasy, suffocated by Hiroyuki's brilliance.
But now…
"There it is!"
"ARAMAKI!!"
"THAT'S OUR MONSTER!!!"
It's not cheering so much as a detonation, a choir that claws the air like they've been waiting to breathe again.
Fans stomp the floor, fists raised, roaring his name with a fever that shakes the barricades. The sudden shift is so fierce it feels like the entire arena snaps back to its original axis.
Aramaki stands over Hiroyuki with that emotionless calm, chest barely rising, as if the trap, the bait, the brutal left to the ribs, and the perfect right hook, cost him nothing.
The commentators explode over each other, voices cracking with disbelief:
"What… what was that? aramaki set a trap!"
"He pulled Hiroyuki into a feint… mid-motion! We have never seen him do something like that!"
