"The champion is winning."
The chant sounded like a roar, a current pulling the entire arena into its tide. Yet it was the truth, the only truth that mattered under the shades of what seemed like a thousand lights.
"The champion is winning."
It pulsed with every heartbeat, every slick slide of sweat drop on their skin.
"The champion is winni—"
"...and the undisputed champion is on his way to break the defense title record yet again!" The first commentator's voice was electric, crackling with the energy of the crowd.
"He seems to have the advantage, but let's not count Arian out" the second countered, his tone more measured. "This fight is still close. It's tough for both of them out there."
"At first glance, maybe," the first shot back. "But look at the points. The champ is still dominating the scorecard. Still, with power like this in the ring, a knockout is always on the table."
"It doesn't always work like that, Joe."
As if on cue, the bell shrieked, signaling the start of the final round. The two fighters met in the center of the octagon, a whirlwind of motion. They kept it light, dancing on the balls of their feet, circling, testing. Arian, the challenger, was a wall of muscle and desperation, trying to drive the champion toward the unforgiving chain link of the cage.
'So much effort,' a cold, detached thought surfaced, unbidden. 'For such a predictable outcome.'
"Arian needs to make use of his strongest weapon, that raw power of his," Joe exclaimed. "He's holding up surprisingly well, no major blunders. He might actually have a chance if he can just land one clean shot!"
Then, the champion did something that made the entire arena hold its breath. He broke formation, jogging backward toward the corner, and turned, deliberately letting his back go open. It was a rookie mistake, an invitation for disaster.
"What is he doing?" Joe's voice climbed so high, almost funny witnessing his shock. "He's just giving his opponent a chance for an overkill! This is insane!"
Arian saw the opening and lunged, a predator unleashed.
But it wasn't a mistake. It was a calculation. The champion was inches from the cage. He planted his left foot, then his right, tapping the chain-link twice like a drumbeat. It was the anchor he needed --In a tempo faster than presto. With an explosive push, he launched himself upward, coiling his body in mid-air. His left knee drove up with brutal force, followed by a roundhouse kick that stretched his right leg into a perfect, devastating arc. The heel connected with Arian's temple with a sickening thud. **
And before the challenger's body could even register the command to fall, the crowd cheers broke loose, just horrifying the echo of the kick they just witnessed.
"Aaaand he does it again!" Joe screamed
Arian crumpled to the mat, a puppet with its strings cut, one that had been played from the first bell. The referee dived in, waving his arms frantically. It was over.
"I'm speechless," the second commentator said, his voice hollow, with no further follow up.
"What a swift, beautiful, violent kick," Joe roared, his professionalism dissolving into pure awe. "That's a new page in the history books, right there!"
"look at the speed in the beginning. That looked almost inhuman" the second commentator gained his glimpse back with the replay
"No wonder they call him speedcore" he added
"No one does that" Joe stopped for a second "but I like the sound of it"
"Seemingly.. I am never getting enough of these fights" finally cooling down.
The way to the locker room buzzed, but the noise felt distant, on the corridor ,muffled. A reporter, young and eager, shoved a microphone on the 'night's mvp' face, the flash of a camera momentarily blinding him.
"You pulled a stunt in a match where the tides were pretty much even," she said, her words tumbling out in a rush. "One that seemed pretty impossible to manage. Weren't you afraid to lose?"
He met her gaze, his expression a perfect blank. "The tides were never even ."
The reporter blinked, thrown off by the sheer lack of emotion. "Is there a reason you say that? Something you noticed in the octagon? An advantage?"
He gave the slightest, almost imperceptible shrug.
"I was the one in there."