"Ladies and gentlemen," the announcer said from the middle of the Nonagon. "This is the moment we all have been truly waiting for. Live from the Victor's Domain arena, Sonas, Imperos, with the attendance of over 24,000 spectators, IT'S TIME for the main event of the evening!
"The special five-round match between the two champions of ABC Imperos is finally here! Brought to you by Quest Tech and Prophecy Skywear."
The arena immediately filled with even louder cheers.
"Introducing first," the announcer said, turning toward the blond man. "From Sonas, District One, with a professional record of 25 wins, 1 no contest, and zero losses, standing at 6'6'' and weighing at 220 masos, he's the number one masos-for-masos brawler of ABC Imperos, and the reigning, defending, undisputed Heavyweight Champion of ABC Imperos, Maxvil 'Cash Colossus' Kartur!"
It seemed the crowd was in the favor of this man this evening, for loud cheering and chants sounded just after Maxvil's introduction.
"And now," the announcer said, turning toward Hitryel. "From Sonas, District Five, with a professional record of 30 wins, and zero losses, standing at 6'2'' and weighing at 178 masos, he's the former Welterweight Champion of ABC Imperos, the former Middleweight Champion of ABC Imperos, and the reigning, defending, undisputed Light Heavyweight Champion of ABC Imperos, Hitryel 'Hungry Wolf' Hystryk!"
The major part of the crowd booed. Nothing new for Hitryel.
"The Wolf is hungry, ladies and gentlemen!" said the bald commentator, while the referee went over the rules with the brawlers. "What can we expect out of a matchup like this? We have arguably the greatest light heavyweight Imperos has ever seen, versus perhaps the most dominant heavyweight in the history of Imperos."
"That's right, Rube," said the purple-suited commentator. "Both of these brawlers haven't left the Nonagon with a single loss under their names. Cash has a single no contest, but that was because of his opponent's injury while fighting him."
"And we must never forget this, Larris. Maxvil Kartur is the man who defeated one of the greatest heavyweights in the history of ABC Imperos, successfully winning the title of the Heavyweight Champion of ABC Imperos, and going on a title defense run of 12 matches."
"For the past 3 years, many have tried to knock Maxvil off his throne, but none have succeeded thus far. Rumors say that if Hystryk performs well in this match, we might see a title fight between these two brawlers, despite the weight difference."
"But we don't have time for any speculation, as in front of us, we have history itself taking shape. After this match, we'll have a clearer picture on the whole debate about the ranking of the greatest masos-for-masos fighter."
"If you two wanna touch gloves, do it now," the referee said to the fighters in the middle of the cage.
Maxvil smirked. "Watch your head before it rolls off your shoulders, kid."
"Oy, Maxvil," Hitryel said with a grin. "Good luck."
Maxvil hissed, backing away to the wall behind him. "I'll kill you, boy."
Hitryel shook his head, unimpressed. "You can only try."
"The bell has broken its silence, ladies and gentlemen," one of the commentators said. "Round 1 of Maxvil Kartur versus Hitryel Hystryk is finally here."
Hitryel had his chin up even after the bell rang, his guard was also down. He wasn't underestimating Maxvil, just gauging his fighting prowess.
Maxvil didn't seem to like it, as he charged immediately. He threw a big right, then a left, and then kept at it, smoke erupting from the Bracers on his wrists as the dials on them spun out of control.
Hitryel slid underneath all of them, backing to maintain the distance. He soon had his back pinned against the cage wall, making him put his guard up.
Maxvil kept hitting Hitryel's guard, making sure he had no way out, their side of the cage getting covered by a cloud of smoke.
Bracers made sure that brawlers didn't let out fatal amounts of Flow—or Ether as the others called it. If any brawler used a bigger Flow than allowed, the Bracers would just release that extra energy in the form of smoke.
Hitryel let the man waste his breath, wanting to see how far he'd go with this stupidity. Hitryel had his Flow and breath under control, so he wasn't feeling too much damage on his forearms. All he had to do now was to wait and see what this barbaric barrage would lead to.
"He bobbed the first couple of those massive blows," said the bald commentator exaggeratedly. "But now he's just sponging them. And he's not even wearing pants of a certain shape!"
"Wh…What was that supposed to mean, Rube?" the other commentator asked. "Was that a reference or something?"
The bald commentator shrugged. "Felt appropriate."
"O-kay," the other commentator said. "Maxvil is dealing some major damage here. This could get dangerous for Hystryk if he doesn't move soon."
A cloud steamed out from the wrist of the hand that Maxvil had pulled back to throw.
Hitryel ducked and stepped to the left as Maxvil threw this enormous right hook, making the fist crash into the cage, the wall shaking wildly. With his opponent's right side open, Hitryel threw a body shot with his left fist at Maxvil's open side, following with a punch to the stomach with his right.
Hitryel moved a couple steps toward the middle of the Nonagon, Maxvil turning toward him with his guard up. The bigger man took the invite, closing the distance carefully.
Maxvil gauged the distance with his left hand. Hitryel let the hand hang, allowing the bigger man to do his thing. Maxvil threw a jab with his left, stepping forward for a right hook.
Hitryel guarded his jaw against the jab, slipping underneath the hook, countering with a left uppercut.
Maxvil stepped back, his chin barely getting clipped by the uppercut. He threw a big kick to Hitryel's body, only for it to get rejected by Hitryel's right palm. Hitryel closed the distance with a flying knee, making Maxvil slip rightward.
"It might be looking like Hitryel is acting weirdly aggressive for a first round," said the bald commentator. "But we must remember the reach advantage that Cash has over Wolf."
"Maxvil needs to utilize that advantage more," the other commentator added. "Or else, as we saw with that uppercut, getting clipped by Hystryk's attacks sure is a possibility, and it won't be pretty when a clean blow lands."
Maxvil threw a left cross just as Hitryel turned, forcing him to guard his head. Hitryel wanted to follow with a left jab to find out if Maxvil was within his range, but before he could do that, he was greeted by a body kick to the left side of his stomach. He was not able to catch it with his left hand, but successfully softened the blow with the arm.
Before Hitryel could recover, Maxvil threw his left foot straight to his stomach, knocking him back. Maxvil launched himself off the canvas, extending his right fist to Hitryel's face.
Hitryel barely slipped from the flying punch, sliding to the right. As Maxvil turned to face him, he let go of his left jab, preparing a right. But Maxvil pulled his head back, making the jab miss his face.
When Hitryel threw his right hook, Maxvil did the same, but due to the reach advantage, Maxvil's punch managed to make contact, Hitryel's punch not even reaching the bigger man's face.
Hitryel shook off the blow, gauging the distance by paying attention to the footing of his opponent, only to get immediately punished by a high kick.
"Cash is mixing it up with some high kicks now," a commentator said. "A minute left to the round."
Two repeated blows to the head made Hitryel rethink his strategy. There was no way that he'd be able to close in on Maxvil. This man appeared brutish, and the way he started the round only added to that. However, he was also a master at maintaining his reach advantage, even more so than Brandin—
"What's up, boy?" Maxvil taunted. "Did you forget that to hit you must reach me first?"
Hitryel exhaled, standing upright, dropping his hands low, pointing at his opponent with his chin. "Do you want me to hit you?"
Maxvil snorted. "We're fighting. How else do you think this is supposed to go—?"
Within a blink, Hitryel was a step away from Maxvil, making him jump back. "I'll finish this in the next round."
Maxvil tucked his chin, bringing his hands up. "Oh, yeah?" He stepped forward with small steps—
Hitryel was surprised to find the big man shooting for his legs. He certainly wasn't expecting to wrestle with Maxvil in round 1, leading to Maxvil successfully grasping onto his legs and taking him down.
"That balance is gone," a commentator said. "Hystryk was caught off guard. There's some serious ground and pound from the heavyweight."
Hitryel covered his head as Maxvil brought down the hail of punches on him. His opponent was weighing him down from the top, so getting off the canvas was not something to focus on here. Instead, it was all about somehow stopping this assault raining down on him.
"How will he get out of this one, Larris," a commentator said. "He doesn't have the weight advantage, so will we see a stoppage from the referee—"
Hitryel wrapped his legs around Maxvil's neck from behind his back, forcing him backward, getting his own back off the ground in the process. Maxvil reached with both hands to remove the legs around his neck.
The crowd grew real quiet as they saw this move, gasping among each other.
Maxvil gulped as his eyes met with Hitryel's, legs locked around his neck.
Hitryel smiled demonically, smoke coming out of his right wrist. He threw the pulled back punch at his helpless opponent's head—
The bell rang, ending the round, prompting the referee to separate the two brawlers.
Soon Maxvil was sitting in the Major Corner, sipping some water, looking predatorily at Hitryel.
Hitryel stood with his back against the wall of the Minor Corner, staring back at his opponent. 'Soon it'll be the way it's meant to be.'
The crowd started cheering out of nowhere.
"Look who just joined the audience, ladies and gentlemen," said the bald commentator. "Even President Filep himself couldn't stay away from this match."
Maxvil turned toward the smiling president, only for his chest to inflate. He wiped his mouth, the anger on his lips disappearing with the water on them. And then…a grin replaced it.
He got onto his feet as the bell rang, walking toward the middle of the cage with his back so straight he was practically leaning backward.
Hitryel shrugged this off as nothing but Maxvil trying to keep himself composed. He stepped in to greet his opponent, chin up high.
Maxvil's grin stretched.
Hitryel raised an eyebrow in confusion—
Hitryel's lower jaw got blasted by a sharp right hook, knocking off the mouthguard he was biting into, taking away the feeling he had over his legs. He knew he was falling to the canvas, but he couldn't protest against gravity.
The crowd cheered loudly as Hitryel's face bounced off the canvas, most of the people standing with their hands to the air.
"He's done!" the bald commentator said, leaning toward his desk. "What a devastating right hook by Maxvil! He's an animal! He's an absolute beast!"
"OW!" The other commentator joined in, pulling his microphone closer to his mouth "That was NOT a pretty sound at all! Hystryk got slammed to the canvas! SLAMMED!"
The referee rushed to Hitryel, checking his eyes.
"That's a wrap folks," one of the commentators said. "There's no way he's getting off the canvas. Not after that. Tryst Bracken in his prime would've fallen to that, so what's a light heavyweight."
"Someone needs to tell the referee to declare it already," the other one said. "Even the crowd knows that Hitryel Hystryk has been finally defea—"
The referee raised both his hands into the air to wave them…only for Hitryel to rise from the canvas and lowering down those hands without touching them.
Hitryel climbed to his feet, putting his mouthguard back into his mouth…
'Huh?' Hitryel felt stupid. 'When did I get used to this thing?'
He chucked the mouthguard behind him, throwing it outside the cage.
Maxvil met his gaze with a devilish grin. "Consider me impressed, kid," he said with snort. "But do know that if I can knock you down once, I can do it again."
Hitryel spit the blood in his mouth to the side, and then wiped his lips, revealing his demonic smile. "You can only try." He pumped up his Flow, filling his bloodstream with vitality, strengthening his muscles. If he'd kept it going this strong from the very start, even if Maxvil had thrown ten more of those same hooks, Hitryel's chin wouldn't have moved a hair's length.
Maxvil snorted. "You can't hide it anymore, boy. The world has finally seen you taste the canvas. They know your real face now. Are you scared about me exposing you any further—?"
"Nah!" Hitryel said, his demonic smile getting wider. "They haven't seen my real face. For that, I'll have to stop holding back. And I won't do that."
"Your bluffs won't work," Maxvil said with a grin, "now that we've all seen you're nothing special! I'll crush you just like any of my past opponents, and that's INCLUDING your mentor, that scared old man Tryst Bracken. Is it him you're doing all this for? Trying to get yourself killed by not keeping your guard up? 'Holding back'?"
"Nah, it's for you," Hitryel said, pointing with his chin, smiling the way he did. "I don't wanna kill you."
Maxvil's expression soured. "You really get on my nerves," he said with a light grunt. "Don't think I'll let you go with just a broken shoulder like I did with your mentor. I'll toy with you for the whole round, and then do it all over again for the next. After you leave this cage stretched with multiple fractures, you'll finally learn what it means to be a REAL fighter."
"Huh?" Hitryel said, suddenly annoyed. "What do YOU know about REAL fighting, Maxvil? Did you come in here prepared to die?"
"Why would I do such an outrageous thing against a literal child like you?" Maxvil said with a light snort. "I know everything about you, Hitryel Hystryk…of Arestos."
Hitryel's eyes flared with rage, wrists erupting out bluish smoke as he pointed at his opponent. "Keep that name out your flucking mouth, you smoking bastard!"
Maxvil grinned. "Give it your best shot, boy," he said, taunting, "because you won't get another. You're angry because even you yourself know that you don't belong here. Your luck ends now. Cherish all the things we simply handed to you because of our sheer generosity, because this is how all of it crumbles. Hitryel Hystryk, I'll CRUSH you!"
###
"They're just talking," Ryuzio said grumpily. "This is not what they should be doing."
"Yeah," Benji said. "While we have time…" He directed Ryuzio's gaze toward the two skyguards in the crowd. "Those are the recruiters that rejected me yesterday, Ryuzio. And they're going to be the same ones who're going to…" He laughed nervously. "We'll see what happens when I beg to them today."
Ryuzio stared deeply at the nervously laughing boy. "Hey, Ben!" he finally said.
Benji met his eyes, confused. "I'm right here. No need to shout…"
Ryuzio pointed to his headband with a thumb. "I'll get you recruited today, no matter what! I promise!"
Benji waved both his hands, frowning. "That's not something in your control, Ryuzio," he said with a shake of his head. "I know you want me to not feel bad about my rejection, but there's no need for you to go this far. There's nothing YOU can do to get ME recruited."
Ryuzio smiled. "I can try!"
Benji's eyes flashed underneath his glasses. "Um… Alright…"
"Whoa!" Ryuzio said, pointing at the big screens. "They've finally fighting again!" He cupped his mouth. "Beat him up, champ guy!"
Benji hid his face as he sunk in his seat, tugging on Ryuzio's jacket. "Calm down, Ryuzio." He looked up at the screen. "Can Hitryel even win…?"
"Of course he will!" Ryuzio said, not removing his eyes from the Nonagon. "He's going to be my squadmate! He can't be losing to a guy like that!"
Tryst sighed from beside Benji. "You still haven't quit that…"
"What if he doesn't win, Ryuzio," Benji asked curiously. "Will you still want him as your squadmate?"
Ryuzio looked up thoughtfully. "Depends on what he does next, I guess."
Benji's jaw relaxed, brows rising.
"Now let me focus on the match, you two!" With that, he leaned forward, waiting for Hitryel to finally reveal his real toughness.