Round four comes and goes with almost no change in flow. Kenta moves the same way he did in the second and third rounds: calm, steady, emotionless.
He's not running, not stalling. What he does is just… boxing, in the most unsettlingly tranquil way possible. His jabs tap out like a metronome.
Park tries to break the rhythm, but each attempt crumbles into mist.
He charges? Kenta steps aside, taps him with a jab, and resets.
He tries to counter? Kenta's already shifted angle, jabbing from another direction.
He attempts to force a brawl? Kenta clinches, breathes, lets the referee split them, and returns to his soft orbit.
The crowd, which had roared through the first round, now sits in a strange mood, caught between fascination and boredom.
A cheer finally swells as they see Kenta suddenly fires a sharp one–two…
Dsh, DSH!!
Park blocks, bracing for escalation, but Kenta immediately eases back into his slow steady pulse, drifting sideways like nothing happened.
