"Why aren't you attacking me, Boy? Are you waiting for me to run out of energy?" Owen chuckled mockingly. "Too bad that won't happen, because I've already fought three matches in a row without stopping."
'Shit! Three in a row?! That's insane!'
Vernon was shocked. How did Owen have so much stamina left? Most fighters would be exhausted after their first or two round, not three matches.
There was only one explanation. Owen must have knocked out his opponents with just one punch, so he didn't need much energy to finish the fights.
Thinking about that, Vernon's legs trembled, and his confidence dropped. Was he going to be Owen's next victim?
'No! I can't die here. I have to get revenge on Xander and fulfill Tian's dream!'
Vernon steadied his stance, and a fiery determination lit up his eyes.
"Looks like you're finally getting serious, Boy." Owen mocked, sensing Vernon's change in aura. But it didn't faze him at all. To Owen, Vernon was just a weak bug.
'Tsk! Why isn't Vernon attacking? What's he thinking? Does he have a plan?' Colin was irritated. He was sure Vernon could beat that bastard and get revenge.
Stella glanced at Colin, who was tense. The playful smile disappeared from his handsome face.
She chuckled mockingly. "I told you from the start that your fighter is just a loser."
"Shut up," Colin snapped. "You should be helping me. What's Owen's weakness? You've been a fighter officer here long enough, so you must know."
"I can't tell you."
"You're so annoying!"
Vernon watched Owen's feet and hands, trying to guess his movements. It was easy because Owen moved slower than most fighters.
"Come on, Loser." Owen taunted, trying to provoke Vernon's anger.
Vernon quickly moved his feet, stepping back and forth while keeping his fists raised, trying to disrupt Owen's concentration.
"So, you're just a lowly boxer?" Owen wasn't intimidated and kept trying to break Vernon's spirit. Breaking a fighter's will is the best way to bring them down.
It didn't matter how long a fighter trained—if their mental strength failed, they couldn't fight well.
However, Vernon's expression didn't change, staying cold and full of resolve.
'He's really annoying,' Owen thought to himself.
Swoosh!
Vernon threw a kick aimed at Owen's thigh, but Owen didn't even flinch.
[0+ MP for Low Kick]
'What the hell is this?' A sudden notification appeared in front of Vernon, distracting his view.
[Every Muay Thai technique that lands on an opponent generates MP. The higher your physical stats, the more damage you'll inflict, and the more MP you'll gain!]
Owen grinned, unaffected by Vernon's attack. "That's it?"
Vernon didn't reply. He was too focused on the screen in front of him, looking confused.
"Don't space out when we're fighting, idiot!"
BAM!
Owen threw a jab—a straight punch—that landed on Vernon's face. He staggered and fell. Blood dripped from his cut forehead, staining the ring floor.
"Damn!" Vernon cursed under his breath. His head throbbed, and his vision blurred. Worse, the pain from his forehead was unbearable.
'Could my skull be fractured?'
CRACK!
Vernon was sent flying when Owen kicked him as he tried to stand.
"Argh!" Vernon curled up in pain, clutching his ribs as he felt them crack. The referee approached Vernon and started the countdown.
The roaring cheers of the crowd shook the building as Vernon lay on the floor.
"Damn it!" Colin cursed. "Vernon! Don't give up! Hit him!"
"Vernon goes down after Owen's deadly kick! Can Vernon stand, or is this it?! What do you think, folks?!" Leo, the commentator, hyped up the crowd even more, making their cheers louder.
"It's obvious Vernon's finished!"
"Owen's our king!"
"Fu*k!" Colin punched a can nearby, venting his frustration.
"Four!"
"Three!"
"Two!"
Colin glanced up at the second floor, where the VIP bettors watched the match. His eyes locked with a bearded man who gave him a mocking grin.
'That bastard!'
At the same moment, Owen raised his arms high as the referee neared the end of the count.
The crowd went silent as Vernon slowly stood up, holding his ribs. "This isn't over, fatso."
Owen was shocked that Vernon could still stand. His previous opponents had all passed out or even died.
'Who the hell is this guy?'
Owen had underestimated Vernon. Even though he looked scrawny for a fighter and his muscles weren't well-defined, he was tough. He could still smile confidently.
Owen growled in frustration. His pride was wounded as whispers spread through the crowd.
"This is the first time we've seen someone stand after suffering serious injuries."
"Who is he? I'm sure he's not just an ordinary boxer."
"Is Owen getting weaker, or is that kid just tough?"
'Bastard!' Owen cursed inwardly. How dare Vernon steal all the praise he was supposed to get?
He clenched his fists, making his muscles tighten and veins pop in his neck, showing his anger.
Owen charged at Vernon. Each stomp shook the ring floor, showing his killer intent.
"Die, you bastard!"
Colin held his breath as Vernon didn't move while Owen attacked. Was Owen's kick really that fatal, leaving Vernon paralyzed?
Why was Vernon's fighting style and strength so different from before? When he fought Oliver, he was unstoppable.
'Did he cheat?'
Owen performed a Teep—a straight kick—hitting Vernon in the chest, sending him crashing into the ring ropes. Then he followed up with a series of cross punches.
Vernon was powerless, completely drained. His face was covered in bruises and blood. He couldn't defend himself from the relentless assault.
Owen delivered an uppercut as the final blow, sending Vernon flying before he collapsed, soaked in blood.
Seeing this, the referee rushed to Vernon and started the countdown.
'Get up, damn it!' Colin cursed, panicking.
"Ten!"
"Nine!"
"Eight!"
"Seven!"
Colin bit his lip as Vernon didn't move at all. "Oh, shit!" He approached the ring and shouted, "Get up, you idiot!"
But Vernon didn't respond.
'Vernon can't be dead!'
Colin froze in shock. Just yesterday, he had seen Vernon's toughness in the ring. Now, he lay there like a corpse.
"Let me finish him off." Owen leaped, ready to land on Vernon's body.
Colin didn't respond or protest. He was still trying to process what had just happened, completely outside his expectations.
"Looks like you lost again, Colin."
Colin's daze broke when he heard that all-too-familiar voice behind him. He growled quietly as the voice echoed in his ears.
"That means your money is mine," the man added, his tone mocking.