Amateur Cup

Chapter 24 - Round 1

Match day arrived beneath bright lights and a constant roar of voices.

Mike sat on a bench in the waiting room, his gloves resting beside him. Music and announcements drifted in from the arena, mixed with the occasional burst of cheering whenever another fighter entered the ring. He rolled his shoulders and took a slow breath, letting the noise fade into the background.

His body felt good. The soreness from the past week was gone, leaving only a steady strength in his muscles. His hand is also healed due to the potion.

Mia knelt in front of him and began wrapping his wrists with clean tape. Her fingers moved quickly, tightening each layer with practiced precision.

"Stay behind the jab," she said. "Don't rush him. Make him reach for you, then punish the opening."

Mike nodded.

"Clark likes to start fast, so let him."

Mia finished his left hand and moved to the right, keeping her voice calm despite the noise around them.

"Once he slows down, that's when you take over. Don't give him the fight he wants."

Mike looked toward the entrance leading to the arena. Somewhere beyond it, Clark was waiting for his turn.

He clenched his taped hand once Mia finished.

"I won't."

A staff member appeared in the doorway and called Mike's name.

"Mike Carter. You're up."

For a moment, Mike stayed seated.

The noise from the arena seemed louder now. The crowd was already cheering for someone, and the sound rolled through the hallway like a wave. Mike picked up his gloves and stood, rolling his shoulders one last time.

Mia rose with him. She checked the tape around his wrists, then looked him in the eyes.

"Stay calm. First minute, read him. Don't get dragged into a brawl."

Mike nodded.

"I've got it."

Mia stepped aside, and Mike followed the staff member through the doorway.

The moment he entered the arena, the sound hit him.

Hundreds of voices filled the air. Some people shouted his name while others were already calling for Clark. Bright lights hung above the ring, turning the canvas almost white from where Mike stood.

He started down the aisle.

With every step, the waiting area seemed farther away. His heartbeat picked up, but his breathing remained steady. He could feel the weight of the gloves in his hands and the familiar tension building in his shoulders.

Then he saw his opponent.

Clark stood in the opposite corner of the ring, already wearing his gloves. He bounced lightly on his feet while Sam leaned close to his ear, saying something Mike couldn't hear.

Clark looked completely relaxed.

Mike's eyes moved past him toward the crowd.

Claire sat a few rows away from Clark's corner, her arms crossed as she watched the ring. Her attention never left him.

Mike continued forward.

He was almost at the ring when someone brushed his arm.

He turned.

Eve stood among the spectators.

She didn't call his name or try to get his attention. She simply gave him a small nod, her expression calm and unreadable.

Mike held her gaze for a second before nodding back.

Then he turned toward the ring.

The staff member held the ropes open, and Mike stepped through. He climbed onto the canvas and moved toward his corner, the crowd growing louder around him.

Across the ring, Clark stopped bouncing.

Their eyes met.

Neither man looked away.

A moment later, the referee called them to the center.

They walked toward each other as the crowd slowly settled.

"Listen carefully," the referee said. "Protect yourself at all times. Obey my commands. Break when I tell you to break. No hitting after the bell. Three-minute rounds."

Mike listened without taking his eyes off Clark.

The referee looked between them.

"Any questions?"

Both fighters shook their heads.

"Touch gloves."

Mike extended his glove.

Clark tapped it once.

They turned and walked back to their corners.

Mike raised his guard as the referee stepped between them.

The arena fell into a tense silence.

Then the bell rang.

Clark came forward the instant the bell rang, his gloves high and that ugly grin already on his face. He snapped a jab toward Mike's head.

Mike slipped outside.

"Whoosh!"

Clark's right hand followed, but Mike leaned back just enough for the glove to skim past his nose. He stepped in immediately and drove his own jab into Clark's forehead.

"Thud!"

Clark's head rocked back.

He planted his feet and swung a left hook. Mike raised his elbow and caught it on his guard with a sharp smack. Before Clark could bring his hand back, Mike fired a straight right down the middle.

"Bang!"

The glove smashed into Clark's nose.

Clark stumbled back, blinking.

The crowd roared, but Mike didn't chase him. He kept moving, circling just outside Clark's reach and flicking the jab whenever Clark tried to step in.

**Jab. **

**Step back. **

Jab again.

Clark's gloves kept rising to protect his face, and every time he tried to rush through them, Mike was already gone.

"Stop running!" Clark's corner shouted.

Clark snarled and charged.

His left hook came wide and fast. Mike brought both gloves up, but the punch still clipped the side of his head. Clark immediately followed with a right hand.

Mike slipped under it.

He stepped inside and drove a short uppercut straight through the middle.

"Crack!"

Clark's head snapped back, and the arena erupted again.

Mike took a step away and raised his guard, watching Clark carefully. Blood had started to run from Clark's nose, and the grin he had walked into the fight with was nowhere to be seen.

Clark wiped beneath his nose with his glove and looked at the blood on it. His expression tightened, but he kept his guard up and stepped forward again.

Mike noticed the referee watching the blood.

"Keep fighting," the referee warned. "If it gets worse, I'll have the doctor take a look."

Clark nodded and came forward.

He had stopped smiling now. The shots to his nose were clearly bothering him, and Mike could see him breathing harder through his mouth. Clark tried to hide it by pressing forward, throwing a hard jab followed by a right hand.

Mike slipped the jab and stepped away from the right, forcing Clark to turn with him.

"Come on!" Sam shouted from Clark's corner.

Clark's eyes narrowed.

He rushed in again, trying to trap Mike against the ropes. Mike gave ground for two steps, then planted his feet and drove a hook into Clark's body. The punch landed with a heavy thud and made Clark grunt.

They collided a moment later and ended up locked in a clinch near the ropes.

"Break!" the referee shouted as he moved toward them.

Mike released his grip and stepped back. Clark stayed close for another second, his mouthguard showing as he leaned toward Mike.

"Your dead mother was a slut," Clark muttered, his eyes gleaming behind his mouthguard.

Something inside Mike snapped.

He shoved Clark hard in the chest, sending him stumbling backward. The referee immediately stepped between them and grabbed Mike's shoulder.

"Back! Get back!"

Mike's fists were tight at his sides. His breathing had turned heavy, and for a moment, all he could see was Clark's face.

Then a familiar chime rang inside his head.

[Skill: Absolute Focus activated.]

The heat in Mike's chest vanished.

His breathing slowed. His fists loosened.

The noise of the crowd returned, along with the referee's voice and the movement of Clark across the ring. Mike stared at his opponent for another second, but the anger was gone.

In its place came clarity.

He's trying to make me fight emotionally.

Mike's eyes narrowed.

He wants me to chase him, trade recklessly, and forget the game plan.

The referee finally stepped away.

Mike raised his gloves and settled back into his stance.

Clark smiled, thinking he'd gotten under his skin.

Mike smiled back.

Fine. I'll give you the fight you want.

Just not the way you expect.

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