Brandin wouldn't lose a third time. He couldn't. This was not about legacy, or even pride. It had became much more than that. A boulder in the path becomes the path. Therefore, the losses he faced must lead him to victory.
As these thoughts swirled inside of Brandin's dome, the bell for the first round rang—
"But what if you lose again?" asked his consciousness.
Brandin tucked his chin, closing distance with his opponent. Hitryel was a few fingers shorter than him, but that barely mattered. Brandin had experienced the defense of this fighter, so Brandin could not fall back solely on the longer leg reach that he had over Wolf.
Hitryel had his chin up, as if looking down on Brandin. Paired with the fact that his hands were loose and low, it would seem that his ego was getting the best of him, if it weren't for the fact that he had always been like that. From his first couple matches, all the way till now, Hitryel had always looked down on his opponents.
But it wasn't as if they could do anything about it.
'You're two years younger than me,' Brandin thought. 'You can't look down on someone more experienced!'
Brandin threw a high kick. Hitryel raised his arm to guard his head, taking the kick on his left arm. He followed with a right jab, only for his fist to be parried by Brandin, and then getting a right jab in return.
Hitryel slid underneath the extended arm, throwing an unloaded right to Brandin's side.
Brandin's left eye squished as the side of his stomach received the knuckles, making him add distance between them.
"And the fight has started," Rube said. "Brandin isn't wasting any time here, ladies and gentlemen. He's going on the offense from the get go."
"That was a good counter by Hystryk," Larris said. "Though he did not put much power into it, it seems he still got Brandin to back away."
Hitryel moved in his left leg forward, measuring the distance created by Brandin with his left hand. Brandin could not allow the brawl to go down to the canvas. Winning the distance had always been his strategy. So he threw a calf kick with his right foot, aiming to take away Wolf's balance, or at least make him surrender the attempt to close in.
Hitryel did not remove the contact between his left foot in the front and the canvas underneath it, taking the calf kick without hesitation. He definitely wasn't slow enough to not react to this kick, which could only mean one thing.
This was Hitryel's way of telling Brandin that he was outmatched.
Brandin followed the kick with a left jab, throwing his shoulders forward, loading up his right. Hitryel parried the strike away, eyes on the other fist of Brandin.
Brandin threw a right cross, smoke bursting out from the Bracer on his wrist, making Hitryel guard his head. With both of his opponent's hands up high, Brandin used this opportunity to shoot his left foot toward the side of Wolf's stomach—
Hitryel turned his right elbow inward, catching Brandin left foot. Before Brandin could follow, Hitryel had already strangled his right hand.
Brandin enforced his core, anticipating the kick he was about to receive to his open gut. Hitryel's left foot parted from the canvas below, making Brandin hold his breath—
Hitryel swept his left leg rightward, at the only leg keeping Brandin up, snatching his balance. Brandin reflectively exhaled, his mind yelling at him to get back onto his feet. He rolled toward the nearest wall, hastily climbing to his feet, back against the cage, hands up high to guard against the fists that were about to rain down on him. He gulped, before weaving his sight toward his opponent through his guard—
Hitryel stood with low hands, still looking down. Sweat trailed down Brandin's face as he realized just how much of a threat Wolf did not consider him.
"Wolf doesn't seem to be impatient tonight," Rube said. "He's not looking for a first-round finish, it seems."
"The way he took that vicious calf kick may be hinting toward the progression of this match," Larris said. "Hystryk seems to be only reacting. Are we going to see anything other than counters?"
Brandin exhaled. 'What am I getting worked up for?' He relaxed his shoulders, moving inward.
Hitryel's bored but slightly agitated expression welcomed Brandin to the middle of the Nonagon.
"Geraal's moving in now," Rube said. "Only one minute left of this round—"
Brandin threw his left foot to Hitryel's head, making him raise his right hand.
'With your right hand neutralized,' Brandin thought, 'what's going to be your big counter?'
Brandin killed the momentum of his left kick, stopping it just before making contact with Hitryel's right forearm. He turned his whole body leftward, extending his right leg to Hitryel's skull, resulting in a violent head kick.
Hitryel shot his right palm across his body, catching the head kick—
Brandin forced his entire weight against the canvas underneath his left foot, throwing himself into air. He extended his left leg, aiming to strike the side of Hitryel's head—his bare, unguarded head.
The impact of the kick turned Wolf's head the other way, making him stabilize his body by pulling back his right leg behind him. He shook it off, returning to face Brandin.
Brandin wanted to keep the pressure up, so he brought his left shoulder forward, preparing for a right hook—
Hitryel smiled demonically.
Brandin gulped, throwing a low kick instead, hitting Wolf's left thigh—
Hitryel pulled back his right fist, the Bracer on the wrist bursting out smoke.
Brandin slid back a step—
Hitryel moved in, torso leaning forward, swinging his right fist at Brandin—
Brandin's eyes widened as he tried to bring his hands up. 'You took too long, Hystryk.'
The bell rang, marking the end of round 1.
Hitryel stopped his fist from making contact with Brandin, his gust created by the abrupt stoppage of the punch blowing the smoke forward.
The referee rushed to separate them to their respective corners.
"What an amazing performance by both brawlers," Rube said. "It seems that Brandin is incorporating more punches into his combos, making Hystryk guess."
"I mean he was counterattacking till the very end," Larris said. 'But this is not really uncommon for Wolf. However, he seems too passive in this match. Keep in mind, this is a title defense. He has his title on the line."
"The judges have given Brandin the Major Corner," Rube said. "And I agree with them. The champion HAS to put out more pressure than this."
"Couldn't agree more, Rube," Larris said. "But, hey, we still have 4 more rounds to go."
Brandin retreated to the Major Corner, winning 5 out of the 9 walls of the Nonagon. Major Corner for him meant more people were betting on him to win. However, the man standing across this cage wouldn't let that happen so easily.
But for now, all he could do was to simply drink his water and recover his stamina. He'd need a lot of it to execute his strategy for round 2.
###
"Why's he just standing there all alone like that?" Ryuzio asked Benji, pointing at the champ guy. "The streak guy is sitting and drinking. Why is there no one by his side?"
"It has always been that way," Benji said, then turned to Tryst. "I've also been curious about Hitryel not having anyone by his ringside. I mean, he has a trainer like you. Your analysis would definitely help him. So why, Mister Tryst?"
"I'd asked him to be there," Tryst said with a sigh. "Several times now, actually. But he always denies. Says that this is how it's meant to be."
"That's really strange," Benji said, fixing his glasses. "Like, we get that he's a really strong brawler and all, but even then he needs to rest in between rounds, and for that, he needs a team by his side."
"Maybe it's that young blood," Tryst said jokingly. "Maybe he doesn't need any other liquid."
"He could've become the youngest champion of ABC," Benji said. "But he turned 19 before he fought Yos 'Doomnight' Dismon, the longest reigning Welterweight Champion of ABC Imperos."
Tryst looked at Benji with confusion. But then his expression changed, as if he just remembered something. "You're right. That's correct. Uh-huh. Hitryel could have become the youngest champion for sure."
"I never knew that Sonas also had mountains," Benji said. "I thought District Five was also like the other districts."
"Mountains?" Tryst said with a confused look. "Who told you that District Five has mountains? That's some false information you just got, young man."
"But the announcer always says Hitryel is from District Five," Benji said, looking at the bearded man. "And you said that the one who helped you—Hitryel—was a young man from the mountains."
Tryst laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his head. "Did I? I don't remember it. Maybe it just slipped from my mouth. Getting old sure comes with its drawbacks."
Ryuzio gazed at the bearded man from the corner of his eyes.
The bell rang again.
"Oh, look," Tryst said, folding his arms. "Round 2 is starting. I hope Hitryel has recovered."
Ryuzio returned his focus back onto the fight in the cage. The champ guy sure was tough. But what was the reason for him to not show his true strength. It was extremely obvious to Ryuzio that he was holding himself back by quite a lot. Was he that confident in himself?
"I don't dislike Hitryel," Benji said, looking at the screens above. "But I get where the people that do are coming from. That's not the expression a champion should be making while defending his title. He just seems extremely ungrateful for what he has. Looking at him, it just seems that he's not enjoying himself, like he somehow gets forced into every single one of his matches. Look at him, Ryuzio. Doesn't he look bored to you?"
"Bored," Ryuzio said, looking at the champ guy. "Sure. But to me, he just looks really…disappointed."