The bell rang for the second round, and Lucas felt a surge of adrenaline course through him. He stood up from his stool, bouncing lightly on his toes, feeling more confident after the first round. **I can do this. I'm faster, I'm smarter.**
Across the ring, Gustavo glared at him, his chest heaving with frustration. The Beast had thrown everything at Lucas in the first round, but it hadn't been enough to corner him. Lucas had landed some clean shots, and that seemed to have thrown Gustavo off his game. Lucas could see the anger building in his opponent's eyes, a boiling frustration that would either make Gustavo reckless or dangerous—or both.
Zeca's voice echoed in his mind. **"Mantenha a calma. Movimenta e espera o momento certo."**
The second round began with Gustavo storming forward, fists swinging wildly again, but this time Lucas was ready. He sidestepped a massive hook, ducked under a powerful cross, and fired off a jab that snapped Gustavo's head back. It wasn't a heavy punch, but it was enough to remind the crowd—and Gustavo—that Lucas wasn't just going to roll over.
The crowd roared in approval.
Gustavo roared in frustration.
— **"Vem pra cima, moleque!"** Gustavo growled, his voice booming over the noise of the crowd.
Lucas didn't respond, choosing instead to dance back out of range. He wasn't about to get baited into a brawl. That was Gustavo's game. Lucas had to fight smart.
Gustavo charged again, swinging wildly, trying to corner Lucas against the ropes. But Lucas kept his cool, weaving through the punches, moving laterally, staying just out of reach. He could hear Zeca yelling from the corner.
— **"Isso, Lucas! Não deixa ele te cercar!"**
Lucas's breathing was steady, his footwork fluid. He had found his rhythm, and as long as he could keep this pace, he knew he could wear Gustavo down. But every time he dodged one of Gustavo's punches, he felt the raw power behind them. One mistake, one slip, and it could all be over in an instant.
Halfway through the second round, Lucas saw it. A brief opening in Gustavo's defense—he had overcommitted to a right hand, leaving his ribs exposed. Lucas reacted instantly, ducking under the punch and driving a hard left hook into Gustavo's side.
The impact was solid. Lucas felt the punch reverberate through his fist as it connected with muscle and bone. Gustavo let out a grunt of pain, stumbling slightly, but didn't fall. Instead, he turned on Lucas with a snarl, swinging an uppercut with terrifying speed.
Lucas barely had time to react. He pulled his head back just in time, feeling the wind of the punch as it whizzed past his chin. **Too close.** That punch could've ended it.
But Lucas wasn't fazed. He was in the zone now, his instincts sharper than ever. He dodged another wild hook and countered with a quick combination—left jab, right cross—snapping Gustavo's head back once again.
The crowd erupted.
Lucas could feel the shift in momentum. **Gustavo's slowing down.**
But even though Lucas was starting to find success, he knew Gustavo wasn't done. The Beast still had power, and Lucas couldn't afford to let his guard down. Not for a second.
Gustavo charged again, this time more recklessly, his punches coming faster but sloppier. Lucas dodged, ducked, and sidestepped each one, countering with quick, precise jabs that peppered Gustavo's face and body.
With every punch, Lucas felt his confidence grow. He could see it now—Gustavo wasn't invincible. The man had weaknesses, and Lucas was starting to exploit them.
But then, it happened.
Gustavo, in a fit of frustration, launched a brutal overhand right, and this time, Lucas miscalculated. He tried to slip the punch, but his foot caught on the canvas, and he was just a fraction of a second too slow.
The punch connected.
It wasn't a clean hit, but it was enough to send a shockwave through Lucas's skull. His vision blurred for a moment, and his legs wobbled beneath him. The crowd gasped as Lucas stumbled back, his head spinning.
**Get your guard up!** Lucas's mind screamed, but his body felt slow, sluggish.
Gustavo saw his chance.
The Beast surged forward, throwing another wild punch—a left hook this time—aimed directly at Lucas's head. Lucas raised his gloves just in time, blocking the punch, but the sheer force of it sent him stumbling back into the ropes.
The crowd was on its feet now, the noise deafening as Gustavo pressed the attack. Lucas was cornered, his back against the ropes, trying to keep his guard up as Gustavo rained down punches.
— **"Sai daí, Lucas!"** Zeca's voice cut through the chaos, but Lucas couldn't move. He was pinned, forced to absorb the punishment.
Gustavo threw punch after punch, each one heavier than the last. Lucas felt his arms growing numb from blocking, each impact sending shockwaves through his body. He knew he couldn't stay there. He had to get out. He had to move.
And then, through the haze of pain and exhaustion, Lucas saw it—a brief moment where Gustavo's punches slowed, just for a second. It wasn't much, but it was enough.
With a surge of adrenaline, Lucas ducked under a wild swing and spun out of the corner, creating just enough distance to escape Gustavo's onslaught.
The crowd roared again, this time in relief.
Lucas backed away, gasping for breath, his vision still blurry. His head pounded from the punch that had rocked him earlier, but he couldn't let that stop him. He couldn't afford to stop.
Gustavo turned to face him, breathing heavily, his face twisted in frustration. The Beast was tiring, but Lucas knew he was still dangerous.
The round was nearing its end, but Lucas needed to send a message before the bell rang. He needed to show Gustavo—and the crowd—that he wasn't done.
With ten seconds left, Lucas exploded forward, launching a rapid-fire combination—jab, jab, right hook. The punches landed clean, snapping Gustavo's head back and sending him stumbling for the first time in the fight.
The crowd erupted in cheers as the bell rang.
Lucas walked back to his corner, his body aching, but a small smile on his face. He had survived the round. He had escaped the Beast's wrath. And now, he knew he could win.
---
Zeca greeted him with a towel and a proud smile. — **"Você fez exatamente o que precisava, garoto. Gustavo está cansando. Ele vai vir com tudo no próximo round, mas você está no controle agora."**
Leandro handed Lucas a bottle of water, grinning. — **"Você deu uma noção pro monstro, hein?"**
Lucas nodded, still catching his breath. The fight was far from over, but for the first time, he felt like he had the upper hand. Gustavo was slowing down, and Lucas was just getting started.
**Round three was coming.**
And Lucas was ready.