The thud echoes like a gunshot. Gasps ripple through Korakuen Hall. Thousands of voices rise at once.
On the red-corner apron, Nakahara reels back, eyes wide. His shock mixes with fury, baffled by the sheer recklessness.
Hiroshi stares beside him, frozen in equal confusion, mouth half open but no words coming.
"What's going on here?" Nakahara mutters under his breath, voice sharp with disbelief. "Why would he charge in like that?"
Only Kenta watches without surprise, his expression dark, as if he'd seen this moment coming all along.
"He's lost it. I knew there was something off with him lately."
Right now, Ryoma still lies sprawled on the canvas, vision blurred, staring up into the blinding lights above the ring. The world spins, sound rushing in waves, then narrowing to a dull roar.
"He's down already?!"
"It's over!"
"No way… It's too early."
The commentators leap in, voices cutting through the storm:
