The roar of the crowd still lingered in the air as Jason sat in his private room, hands loosely wrapped, breathing steady. His first fight had been almost… underwhelming. Brandon had power, sure — but his technique? Child's play.
Now, it was time for the second fight of the day — the qualifier. Whoever won this would officially enter the 32-man bracket for the California State Youth Boxing Tournament. Five real fights. Five brutal matchups. One winner.
And fifty grand.
Jason stood up, his muscles still loose, adrenaline coursing through his veins. His coach, Ron, walked over, a proud grin on his face.
"Still no damage, huh?" Ron smirked.
Jason grinned. "Not even close."
"Good. But listen up — next kid's different. Name's Marcus 'Ironheart' Diaz. Nasty counterpuncher, insane gas tank, and he's never been dropped. This is a step up."
Jason rolled his neck, popping it. "Doesn't matter."
Ron chuckled. "Damn, I love that attitude. Alright, let's go."
---
The arena was still buzzing when Jason stepped out of the tunnel. The crowd's reaction was deafening — they had just witnessed his flawless destruction of Brandon Keller, and now they were eager to see if he could do it again.
Jason's eyes locked onto his opponent already in the ring — Marcus Diaz. 5'11, lean muscle, razor-sharp stare. Marcus looked like he was chiseled out of stone, his body language screaming confidence.
Jason grinned. Good. I like a challenge.
"Fighting out of the blue corner, weighing in at 168 pounds… Jason 'The Ghost' Carter!"
The arena exploded.
"In the red corner, weighing in at 165 pounds… Marcus 'Ironheart' Diaz!"
The crowd cheered again, though noticeably quieter for Marcus. His reputation was strong, but after seeing what Jason did in his first fight, people were beginning to sense something… different about him.
The ref brought them to the center. "You know the rules. Protect yourselves at all times. Touch gloves if you want to."
Marcus stepped forward, his voice low. "I watched your first fight. That was cute. Try that on me and see how fast you hit the canvas."
Jason didn't blink. "You talk too much."
Marcus scoffed and bumped gloves hard.
Jason just smiled. Time to dominate.
DING DING!
---
Marcus came out fast — blindingly fast. His jab snapped forward like a whip, aimed directly for Jason's nose.
Slip.
Jason's head tilted an inch to the right, the jab brushing his ear. Marcus immediately fired a right cross, aiming to catch Jason off guard.
Lean.
Jason stepped back effortlessly, the punch missing by millimeters.
The crowd gasped. He's doing it again.
Marcus didn't slow down — he surged forward with a brutal combination. Left hook. Right hook. Uppercut. Every punch came with knockout power, but Jason was untouchable. His upper body moved like liquid, weaving under and around each shot like he was dancing with death.
Miss. Miss. Miss.
"STAY STILL, DAMMIT!" Marcus roared, throwing a thunderous overhand right.
Jason tilted his head an inch — and the punch whiffed past his temple, missing completely.
Jason's turn.
His right fist launched into Marcus's liver — CRACK! — a sound that made the audience flinch.
"GUHHH!" Marcus buckled, his legs almost giving out.
But Jason didn't stop. He exploded forward — jab to the nose, right hook to the temple, left uppercut to the solar plexus.
Marcus staggered back, gasping for air. What the hell is this guy?!
Jason's eyes were cold. He's too slow.
Marcus forced himself to recover, desperation flashing in his eyes. He lunged, throwing a wild combination fueled by panic. Right hook, left hook, uppercut, overhand right.
Jason didn't even blink.
Weave. Slip. Lean. Step-back.
Not. A. Single. Hit.
The crowd lost their minds.
"WHAT THE HELL IS HE?!" one of the commentators shouted.
Phil in the crowd was jumping like a madman. "HE DIDN'T GET TOUCHED AGAIN!"
Jay leaned forward, disbelief in his eyes. "…Holy crap. He's not normal."
Marcus screamed in frustration and charged, throwing everything he had. Jason sidestepped and countered instantly — a vicious straight to the jaw.
CRACK!
Marcus's head snapped back violently. His mouthpiece flew out. Blood splattered the canvas.
Jason didn't stop. Left hook to the temple. Right uppercut. Liver shot.
Marcus staggered, his body refusing to fall. Desperation took over. He swung blindly — and Jason ducked, his chin untouched.
My turn.
Jason exploded. A five-hit combination so fast it blurred — jab to the nose, cross to the jaw, left hook to the body, right uppercut, and a bone-crushing right overhand.
CRACK!
Marcus's body folded. His eyes rolled back. He hit the canvas like a ragdoll.
The ref didn't even count. "IT'S OVER!"
DING DING DING!
The arena erupted.
Jason didn't celebrate. He didn't even raise his hands. He just turned and walked to his corner, his heart barely elevated. No damage. No fatigue. Just pure domination.
Marcus's team rushed into the ring, panicking. The kid was still unconscious.
Jason's family and the Dunphys were losing their minds. Phil grabbed Jay, screaming, "DO YOU SEE THAT?! HE'S A MONSTER!"
Jay could only nod, stunned silent.
Alex just stared. Heart pounding. Sweat on her palms. What the hell did I get myself into?
Jason stepped out of the ring, completely unfazed. His coach was waiting, mouth open. "Jesus Christ, kid. That was the second-best guy here."
Jason just smiled. "Then it's gonna be a long week for everyone else."
---
The tournament official approached, wide-eyed. "Mr. Carter… you're officially in the state bracket. You'll be seeded first."
Jason nodded, not surprised. "Thanks."
The official hesitated. "…Some UFC scouts were watching."
Jason's eyebrow twitched. "Yeah?"
"Yeah. And they're already talking about fast-tracking you."
Jason smirked. "They can wait."
As he walked toward his family, his mother raced to him, practically in tears. "Oh my god, you didn't even get hit! That poor boy—"
"He'll be fine, Mom," Jason said gently. "I promise."
David was grinning ear-to-ear. "Son… that was a perfect fight. You're gonna win the whole thing."
Jason just smiled. "…Yeah. I am."
And as he glanced toward Alex — who was still speechless, face slightly flushed — he grinned wider.
I'm gonna win everything.