The bell rang for the third round, and Lucas rose from his stool, shaking off the fatigue that clung to his body. His legs were heavy, his arms ached from absorbing Gustavo's punches, but he was ready. **This is the round. I have to break him now.**
Across the ring, Gustavo's chest heaved with labored breaths, his eyes narrowed in frustration. The Beast had thrown everything he had at Lucas, but he hadn't been able to land the decisive blow. For the first time in the fight, Gustavo looked unsure, as if the relentless aggression he had relied on for so long wasn't enough.
Zeca's voice was calm but firm as he gave Lucas his final instructions before the round began. — **"Ele está cansado, Lucas. Agora é hora de trabalhar o corpo. Cansa ele ainda mais. Faz ele sentir."**
Lucas nodded, his mind laser-focused. He knew Zeca was right. The first two rounds had been about survival, about avoiding the worst of Gustavo's power. But now it was time to go on the offensive. Gustavo's defense was sloppy, and Lucas had seen the signs of fatigue creeping in. The Beast was slowing down, and Lucas needed to capitalize on that.
The referee called them to the center of the ring, and Lucas locked eyes with Gustavo. He could see the frustration burning there, the anger that came from being unable to dominate like he usually did. Lucas wasn't just another fighter that Gustavo could steamroll. He was standing his ground.
**Time to show him I'm here to win.**
The bell rang, and Lucas moved quickly, circling Gustavo, bouncing on the balls of his feet. He wasn't going to let Gustavo dictate the pace this time. He needed to stay light, keep his energy up, and force Gustavo to make mistakes.
Gustavo charged forward, throwing a wild right hook, but Lucas was ready. He ducked under the punch and fired off a quick one-two combination to Gustavo's ribs. The punches landed clean, and Lucas felt a surge of satisfaction as Gustavo grunted in pain.
Lucas didn't stop. He kept moving, kept jabbing, kept working the body. He wasn't going to give Gustavo a moment to breathe. Each time Gustavo tried to swing, Lucas was already gone, slipping out of range and countering with sharp, precise punches.
The crowd roared with every exchange, the noise growing louder with each passing second. They could feel the shift in the fight, the tide turning in Lucas's favor.
Gustavo swung again, this time with more desperation. A wild uppercut that Lucas easily dodged. **He's getting reckless. He's trying too hard to land the knockout punch.**
Lucas saw his opening.
As Gustavo overextended on a punch, Lucas stepped in close and launched a devastating left hook to Gustavo's liver. The punch landed flush, and Lucas felt the impact reverberate through his glove. He could see the pain flash across Gustavo's face, his body crumpling for a split second before he forced himself to stand upright again.
**That hurt him.**
Lucas didn't let up. He knew this was the moment he had been waiting for. Gustavo was vulnerable, and Lucas had to press the advantage before The Beast could recover. He darted in again, firing another hook to the body, followed by a crisp uppercut to Gustavo's chin.
The uppercut snapped Gustavo's head back, and for a moment, the big man staggered, his legs wobbling beneath him.
The crowd erupted, sensing that the fight was on the verge of turning completely.
— **"Vai, Lucas!"** Zeca's voice rang out from the corner. — **"Continua pressionando!"**
Lucas could feel the energy of the crowd, the surge of adrenaline that came with being so close to victory. But he couldn't get reckless. Gustavo was still dangerous, still powerful, even if he was hurt. Lucas needed to stay sharp, keep his focus.
Gustavo, desperate to regain control, lunged forward with a wild, telegraphed right hook. Lucas easily slipped the punch and countered with a brutal left hook to Gustavo's temple. The punch landed with a sickening thud, and Gustavo's legs buckled.
The Beast stumbled back, his arms dropping slightly, his once-imposing frame now looking shaky and vulnerable. Lucas could see it—Gustavo was hurt. He was on the edge of breaking.
But Lucas knew he couldn't rush in. He couldn't let his excitement cloud his judgment. He needed to stay patient, keep picking his shots. The knockout would come if he stayed disciplined.
With a quick shuffle, Lucas closed the distance again, peppering Gustavo with a flurry of jabs, testing his defense. Gustavo's gloves came up, but his movements were sluggish, his reaction time slow. Lucas saw another opening and delivered a thunderous right hook to Gustavo's ribs, the same spot he had targeted earlier.
Gustavo groaned, his body folding slightly as the pain coursed through him.
Lucas stepped back, giving himself space, watching as Gustavo struggled to stay on his feet. The Beast was still standing, but barely. His breathing was labored, his face twisted in agony. He was running on fumes, and Lucas knew it.
The crowd sensed it too. The noise in the arena was deafening now, chants of **"Lucas! Lucas!"** filling the air. They could feel the end was near.
But Gustavo wasn't finished. With a roar, he summoned every last bit of strength he had and charged at Lucas, swinging wildly. It was pure desperation, nothing more than a last-ditch effort to turn the tide.
Lucas ducked, weaved, and dodged every punch with ease. Gustavo's attacks were slow and uncoordinated, his power fading with each miss. Lucas waited for the right moment, and when it came, he didn't hesitate.
With precision and speed, Lucas stepped inside Gustavo's guard and unleashed a devastating uppercut that crashed into Gustavo's jaw.
The impact was brutal.
Gustavo's head snapped back, his body going limp as he fell backward, crashing to the canvas with a thunderous thud. The arena went silent for a split second, the shock of the knockout rippling through the crowd.
Then, chaos.
The crowd erupted into wild cheers, the sound deafening as the referee rushed in to begin the count.
Lucas stood over Gustavo, breathing heavily, his fists still clenched. He could barely hear the count over the roar of the crowd, but he knew what was happening.
— **"Um... dois... três..."**
Gustavo wasn't moving.
— **"Quatro... cinco... seis..."**
Lucas's heart raced as he watched Gustavo's chest rise and fall, the man struggling to even lift his head.
— **"Sete... oito... nove..."**
It was over.
— **"Dez!"**
The referee waved his arms, signaling the end of the fight. Lucas had done it. He had defeated The Beast.
The crowd went wild, chanting Lucas's name as he raised his arms in victory. Zeca and Leandro rushed into the ring, wrapping their arms around Lucas, congratulating him on the victory.
— **"Você fez isso, garoto!"** Zeca shouted, his voice full of pride.
Lucas, drenched in sweat, smiled as the reality of what had just happened began to sink in. He had done it. He had won. He had broken The Beast.
But as he looked out at the roaring crowd, he knew this was just the beginning.