The bell rang, and Elara surged forward with unrestrained fury. His fists hammered like steel, each punch sharper, faster, heavier than before.
Pragyan raised his arms in a cross defense, blocking blow after blow, his body shaking under the relentless barrage.
"Dammit… again I'm moving close to the ropes. I have to dodge… or push him back. If not, I'll be cornered."
Elara's punches intensified, his rhythm unbroken, his stamina seemingly endless. The crowd roared as Pragyan's back touched the ropes, his guard trembling under the champion's brute force.
From outside the ring, Karikalan's voice thundered. "Hey kid! What are you doing? Why are you moving toward the ropes? Do you think you can win by defending yourself? Get out of there! If not, he will certainly defeat you!"
Pragyan gritted his teeth, sweat and blood dripping down his face. "Yeah… I know that. But I can't escape his attacks. He's punching me persistently, without any tiredness. I have to push him… but how?"
Elara's fists crashed again, each strike echoing like thunder. The ropes shook, Pragyan's body pressed against them, his defense barely holding. The champion's dominance was absolute — but the rookie's defiance refused to break.
Elara's fists rained down like thunder, each strike pushing Pragyan closer to defeat. His back nearly touched the ropes when Pragyan's eyes narrowed. "Then… I guess I have no choice. I have to use this move to avoid his punches."
Suddenly, Pragyan lunged forward, wrapping his arms around Elara, locking him in a desperate clinch. The champion's movement froze, his barrage halted.
The crowd erupted in outrage. "Hey! What are you doing, you coward? Stop this nonsense!" Another voice shouted, "You idiot! How dare you clinch Elara like that!" Fan girls booed, their voices sharp with disdain.
But outside the ring, Karikalan and Richard watched with piercing eyes.
Richard frowned. "Can you really believe Pragyan can still defeat Elara?"
Karikalan's gaze didn't waver. "Why are you asking that now?"
Richard gestured toward the ring. "Look at Elara's fury. I appreciate Pragyan's endurance, but Elara is on a whole other level. He's not holding back anymore… and I'm guessing he hasn't even unleashed his full power."
Karikalan's tone grew heavier. "Yes, Pragyan can't defeat Elara at this level. But I'm not certain about the match. Even though Elara is holding back, he's frustrated by Pragyan's endurance. And look at Pragyan — he's thinking. He's finding a way to dodge Elara's furious attacks."
Richard shook his head. "But he's clinching. That's not a formal move for a fighter in the ring."
Karikalan's eyes sharpened. "You're right, Richard. But Pragyan isn't thinking about winning right now. His aim is simple — to land one punch on Elara. That's why he's still standing in the ring."
The crowd booed louder, but Pragyan's grip tightened. His strategy wasn't about glory — it was about survival, patience, and waiting for the one chance to strike.
Pragyan's eyes burned with resolve. "Now… this is my chance."
He shoved Elara back, his left fist shooting forward in a sudden strike. Elara twisted, dodging with ease, his smirk returning. But Pragyan's mind was already two steps ahead.
His body spun, his right leg whipping around like a wheel, aiming for Elara's leg. The champion's eyes widened as he leapt into the air. "What? What is this brat doing? He's changing his rhythm… I have to be careful now."
The arena held its breath. Both fighters squared off, fists raised, eyes locked.
Elara's thoughts sharpened. "I will beat you this time."
Pragyan's spirit roared. "This is my final move. I don't care how people react. I will kill the arrogance of Elara!"
Pragyan's arm coiled, his uppercut rising toward Elara's chin.
Elara sneered. "You think an uppercut will defeat me? That won't work. I'll end you with my fist!"
Their fists surged forward, colliding in a storm of motion. Elara's right hand moved to counter the uppercut — but suddenly, Pragyan stopped. His fist froze mid-rise.
Elara's eyes widened. "What? He stopped? I thought he would commit… Anyway, I'll finish this now!"
But Pragyan's feint had worked. In that instant, his right hand exploded forward, smashing into Elara's temple with devastating force.
The impact echoed like thunder. Elara's body jolted, his eyes flashing in shock. The crowd gasped, their voices caught between disbelief and awe.
Pragyan's roar filled the arena. "AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
The arena froze in disbelief. Elara's body crumpled, his consciousness shattered by the temple smash. The champion — undefeated, arrogant, untouchable — lay on the canvas.
On the other side, Pragyan stood tall, bloodied and trembling, but roaring like a lion. His cry shook the stadium, a primal sound of defiance and triumph.
Karikalan's eyes widened, his voice low but filled with awe. "That kid… is amazing. I never thought he would land such a move against Elara. Despite having no experience, he struck with precision. I have to keep an eye on him."
Richard's face lit with excitement. "You did it, brother! You actually attacked Elara — that's fantastic!"
His tone grew serious, admiration mixing with concern. "That smash punch… it's one of the hardest moves to master. It drains enormous energy to land it. And yet, even after spending everything, he's still standing. These kids… they're truly impressive."
Veera's fists clenched, his eyes shining with pride. "Pragyan… you've shown them all. You're no coward. You're a fighter."
The crowd erupted, half in shock, half in awe. The rookie had toppled the champion's arrogance, and though his body trembled, his spirit blazed brighter than ever.
The referee's voice echoed through the arena. "1… 2… 3… 4…"
Elara lay motionless on the canvas, his chest rising faintly, his eyes closed. The crowd grew restless, their voices trembling with desperation. "Come on, Elara! Wake up and smash him!" "Get up, champion! Don't let this rookie win!"
But across the ring, Pragyan staggered in the corner, his body drained, his legs trembling like fragile pillars. Sweat and blood dripped from his face as his thoughts whispered louder than the crowd.
"That's it… I landed the punch. I can't fight longer if he gets up again. I lost all my energy with that smash. Now it's up to you, Elara… don't get up, please. I have to win this match — not for prize money, but for the promise I made to my family. For everyone who believed in me."
His fists loosened, his breath ragged, but his spirit clung to hope. The arena held its breath, the referee's hand rising again.
"5… 6…"
The tension was unbearable. Would the champion rise again, or had the underdog's roar finally silenced him?