VISION GRID SYSTEM: THE COMEBACK OF RYOMA TAKEDA - Chapter 588: Threshold of Impact
Chapter 588: Threshold of Impact
The next exchange begins without announcement. Thanid resets in the center and finally follows his corner’s instruction to the letter.
He steps in behind a clean one-two-three, all aimed at the chest, the sternum, the line just below the collarbone. No ambition for the head this time.
“He’s not waiting anymore,” the lead commentator says sharply. “Thanid is taking initiative.”
“That’s veteran composure,” the analyst replies. “He got countered earlier, but he didn’t retreat into caution. He’s adjusting and pressing forward.”
Another combination drives toward Ryoma’s torso, only fully blocked on stiff guard.
“He’s targeting the foundation now,” the analyst continues. “If you can’t catch the head clean, you break the structure underneath it.”
“And look at the intent,” the lead commentator adds. “Those aren’t feeler shots. He’s trying to make the champion uncomfortable early.”
Thanid keeps advancing, gloves snapping out with compact authority, making it clear he did not come to study, making clear that he came to impose.
The punches land on leather. Ryoma deliberately receives them on his gloves, elbows tucked just enough to absorb the impact. He does not retreat. He lets the force travel through his arms, measuring the density behind each strike.
Within a handful of exchanges, the information is already filed away; impact density, torque transfer, recovery speed after extension.
His mind does not linger on impressions. It categorizes, and the internal grid overlays the assessment with mechanical precision.
***
[Impact Analysis Initiated]
[Force Output: High]
[Structure Integrity: Compact | Minimal Energy Leakage]
[Telegraphing: Low]
[Recovery Time After Release: 0.42–0.55 sec]
***
And then a brief recalibration also flickers across his perception.
***
[Comparative Database Cross-Reference Engaged]
[Similarity Index: 81.7% — Jade McConnel (Former OPBF Champion)]
[Primary Commonality: Linear Power Transfer / Short-Arc Hook Efficiency]
***
No emotion accompanies the conclusion, only a silent update:
[Threat Level: Confirmed — World Class Power Variant]
Thanid also watches him closely while keeping the assault. And he knows that the champion is not just defending, but collecting data by staying in the defensive.
“You want to study me?”
“Fine… I’ll teach you the hard way.”
He tries upstairs again. This time the one-two is tighter, more disciplined. The left snaps out and returns immediately to guard. The right follows and retracts just as quickly, no lingering extension to invite a counter.
Ryoma answers with two flicker jabs, both snapping into forearm and glove; still light, and still that head staying on the same position.
“There it is,” the lead commentator cuts in. “The champion fires back.”
Every time Ryoma strikes, his head stays centered, chin faintly exposed, right glove resting low near his chest.
Thanid’s eyes sharpen at the exposed chin. He slides his lead foot a fraction deeper and twitches his left shoulder, eyes drilling into the target.
Ryoma reacts instantly, tilting his head, right glove clenching in preparation.
But nothing comes as Thanid never throws. Still, Ryoma reads it ahead, and halts mid-response. He steps back, refusing the bait.
The analyst exhales softly. “That was a test. Thanid wanted him to overreact and commit first. And you can almost see the calculation on Ryoma’s face. He recognizes the feint halfway through and shuts it down. That’s restraint. A younger fighter might have bitten on that.”
The lead commentator gives a short laugh. “Restraint? He’s twenty-one.”
“Exactly,” the analyst replies. “That’s what makes it unusual. Most fighters that age chase the counter. He pulled himself out mid-action. That’s not just reflex. That’s discipline.”
“Too soon for that kind of composure?” the commentator asks.
“Maybe,” the analyst says. “But he’s showing it anyway.”
Back in the ring, Thanid’s eyes sharpen again, already making a deduction from that exchange.
“So that’s it.”
“The stationary head isn’t a weakness. It’s a trap. He’s waiting for me to commit.”
“He lets it hang there because he trusts his reflexes to escape at the last second.”
Thanid exhales once through his nose.
“Then let’s see how long you can keep that head safe.”
He shifts up a gear, and the rhythm tightens. The punches accelerate; not wild, not reckless, but faster and more frequent.
He stays disciplined, keeps aiming for the head, snapping every hand back to guard before Ryoma can exploit the return path.
Ryoma reads them, almost eerily. He slips without blocking, sidesteps instead of parrying, rolling his shoulders and changing angles with fluid economy. His hands remain low; his feet do the work.
The arena begins to stir. Not because a punch has landed cleanly. Not because someone is hurt. But because the margin is razor-thin.
“The pressure is increasing,” the analyst says, voice rising. “Thanid’s compressing the space now!”
Thanid’s gloves whistle past Ryoma’s face by inches, skimming air where a jaw had been a fraction earlier.
Each near-miss draws a sharp intake of breath from the crowd. Every time Ryoma bends at the waist and lets leather slice over his shoulder, a wave of noise rolls upward through the stands.
It is the kind of tension that does not need impact to ignite it.
“Listen to this place,” the lead commentator says, barely containing the lift in his voice. “Nothing’s landing flush, but every exchange feels dangerous.”
“It’s still under two minutes in the opening round,” the analyst says, voice tightening with excitement, “and the intensity is climbing fast. You can feel it… every second, this place is getting more electric.”
Eventually, Ryoma gives ground under it. He’s not panicked, but forced to move more than before.
Then finally, the pendulum sway appears. His upper body begins to rock subtly back and forth, weight shifting in rhythm from his left foot to the right along with Thanid’s advance.
Some punches he blocks firmly, forearms absorbing the shock. Most he simply lets brush against his guard as the sway carries him just off line.
The effect is subtle, but it disrupts timing.
Thanid feels it, even just a fraction, but enough to force him to recalibrate distance and angle. And in that recalibration, there is hesitation.
His rhythm falls a beat, and Ryoma begins to see gap and enough opening to strike back.
When Thanid lunges in with a sharp left, stepping deep to close the gap, Ryoma steps inside at the same instant and buries a rear hook into the open left ribs.
Thud!
The impact lands clean.
“Oh! He did it again! Right into the ribs!”
But Thanid is prepared this time. He ignores the body shot and whips a tight rear hook toward the head, knuckles slicing through the space Ryoma should occupy.
Except Ryoma is already gone. He ducks and rolls left under the arc of the punch, and drives a measured lead hook into the opposite ribs.
“Seventy percent…”
Thud!
It lands clean on the exposed target, not full power, but calculated.
“Another one!”
Then he steps out sharply to his left, not fully disengaging, just enough to create a narrow lane. And from that lane, he flicks a quick left upstairs.
“Fifty percent…”
Thanid reacts late as the body shot still echoing along his ribs. And the glove skims across his right eye.
Dsh!
“And another one… a sharp flicker jab lands flush on the face!”
It isn’t heavy, but it stings.
Thanid’s posture remains solid, his stance unbroken. Only the faint twitch beneath his right eye betrays the irritation blooming under the surface.
Ryoma’s eyes flick across Thanid’s form, every line, every micro-adjustment cataloged. The Vision Grid hums softly in his mind, projecting its evaluation in crisp, unemotional text.
***
[Target Response: Minimal.]
[Body Impact Absorption: High.]
[Durability Index: Exceeds anticipated range for opponent profile.]
[Observed Reaction: Only micro-twitch at right orbital.]
[Counter-Potential: Moderate. Timing window detected.]
***
Ryoma’s eyes tighten subtly, a flicker of irritation crossing his brow. His jaw tenses for just a fraction, a contained acknowledgment that Thanid’s resilience is starting to test him.
<< Come on… don’t pussy out now. >>
<< You’ve got that power simmering. Time to let it scream. >>
<< Enough holding back already. >>
