Chapter 841 - 841: Why He's Number One
Of course, Ryoma doesn't reset to give Liam room to breathe. It's a calculated adjustment to herd the Canadian exactly where he wants him.
Liam isn't trapped yet, but he's already standing dangerously close to his own corner, with far less space to maneuver than he'd like.
And it doesn't take him long to realize it.
"This isn't distance…"
"…it's a cage."
He tests it with a cautious step to his left, but Ryoma slides with him.
Liam immediately shifts the other way, and Ryoma mirrors that movement just as effortlessly, taking another small side step to seal off the lane.
Ryoma hasn't thrown another punch. Yet somehow, Liam already finds himself with nowhere comfortable to go.
"…never thought he'd be the one pressuring me like this."
Liam tries another move, flicking a probing right hook, little more than a decoy before trying to buy himself an exit toward his right.
But Ryoma doesn't bite. Using his reach, he simply snaps a quick jab straight down the middle.
Dsh!
It clips Liam's right cheek.
Liam winces and instinctively gives half a step backward, his gloves immediately rising into a tighter guard.
And Ryoma is already there. Dropping back into the crouching stance, he fires a series of compact straights from mid-range.
Dug. Dug. Dug.
All three are blocked, but Liam is completely pinned in the corner now.
Even so, the veteran never panics. He subtly adjusts his guard, leaving only the slightest opening down the center, still too narrow for a clean straight to split, yet just enough to keep both sides of his head protected.
Ryoma adjusts, changing the angle of his attack, alternating between the middle and the outside.
Dug. Dug.
Dug. Dug. Dug.
But still, every punch thuds harmlessly against forearms and gloves.
Then he dips and rips a lead hook to the body.
Bugh!
Liam absorbs it without giving ground, and immediately whips a sharp left hook in return.
Ryoma leans back just enough to dodge before calmly resetting once more. He stays patient, never rushing, making absolutely certain his prey has no room to escape the space he has so carefully built around him.
"Look at that discipline!"
"Ryoma isn't forcing anything. He attacks, resets, and immediately rebuilds the cage."
"Liam has defended beautifully so far, but notice something… he still hasn't found a comfortable place to stand."
This time, Liam doesn't wait for Ryoma to strike again. Planting his feet, he lets compact straights fly one after another; right, left, right, left, fast and relentless.
"He's fighting back!"
"Of course! He has to!"
Ryoma catches the first two on his gloves before taking a short step back to let the next pair slice harmlessly through the air.
The moment Liam tries to use the exchange to work his way out, Ryoma steps right back in, sealing the space once more.
Liam abandons the straights. Short hooks begin flying instead, left and right, every swing kept compact to avoid sacrificing his balance.
Ryoma's head and torso sway through every punch with minimal movement, slipping and ducking each one cleanly.
Swssh! Swssh!
Swssh! Swssh! Swssh!
"This is extraordinary defense."
"Notice how little Ryoma actually moves. No exaggerated slips, no dramatic ducks."
"Every movement is economical. Just enough to take his head off the centerline."
"It's almost impossible to pressure someone who's reading your punches this cleanly."
For the first time, Liam changes levels, and a right hook digs toward the body.
Ryoma straightens at the last possible instant, the glove skimming past his ribs by a hair's breadth.
Before Liam can recover his guard…
Dsh! Dsh!
A sharp one-two snaps across his face.
"What a counter!"
"That was brilliant!"
The veteran is forced back into a tight shell. And Ryoma resumes his calculated barrage.
Dug. Dug. Dug. Dug.
Still, every straight pounds harmlessly into forearms and gloves.
But this time, Ryoma's Vision Grid highlights the gap, a faint holographic outline a left glove, rotated vertically, as if quietly suggesting the only angle that could pass through.
Ryoma follows the suggestion, rotating his left glove vertically and drives a compact shovel punch through the seam.
Even so, Liam still reacts brilliantly. The instant the glove slips inside his guard, he jerks his head away.
Dsh!
The punch still clips his right cheek, but already losing most of the impact.
And instantly, Liam catches Ryoma's extended left between both gloves, locking it in place for a split second.
Then he fires, immediately sends a right hook into the ribs.
Bugh!
Liam steps in, holding Ryoma in place for a split second before pivoting sharply and finally escaping the corner.
"And there's the answer! Liam finally solves the corner!"
"Ryoma found the opening... but Liam found the escape."
"That's the level we're watching today. Every adjustment is immediately met with another adjustment."
"Neither man is giving the other a free answer."
Ryoma calmly turns to face Liam again. Outwardly, his expression remains flat, his breathing steady, and his gloves quietly returns to position.
Inside, however, he clicks his tongue in frustration. He expected at least a knockdown in this opening round.
He had Liam exactly where he wanted him, only for the veteran to find the one escape route available.
"Damn it... He got away."
<< What? >>
<< You were expecting a knockdown already? That's a little greedy, don't you think? >>
"I almost had him."
<< Man… You just cornered the WBO's number-one contender, a veteran who's spent years fighting at the highest level. >>
<< If he were that easy to break, he wouldn't be standing across from you today. >>
Ryoma let out a quiet breath through his nose.
"...Fair enough."
Behind the red corner, Doyle slaps the ring apron, signaling the final ten seconds of the round. Normally, this is the moment to take a few extra risks before the bell, but Liam wants no part of it.
The opening round has already thrown him completely off balance, and Ryoma's unexpected style has denied him any chance to establish his usual rhythm.
"…damn kid actually pushed me this far."
Ryoma continues stalking him with quiet patience while Liam keeps him at bay with compact straights, one after another.
He isn't trying to land. He isn't trying to hurt him. For these remaining few seconds, simply maintaining the distance is enough.
Eventually, the bell rings.
Ding!
"What an opening round! Ryoma surprised everyone with an entirely new style and controlled the geography of the fight."
"But Liam O'Connell showed exactly why he's the WBO's number-one contender. He never panicked, survived the early storm, and gradually found answers."
"If that's how these two are going to trade adjustments... we're in for a spectacular fight."
Ryoma immediately lowers his gloves and heads back to his corner, giving the slightest shake of his head along the way.
Liam catches the gesture from the corner of his eye, and for some reason, it irritates him more than any punch Ryoma has landed.
He drops onto the stool with a quiet grunt, his eyes still fixed on the opposite corner. "The kid spent an entire round walking me into a corner... and still has the audacity to look disappointed."
Doyle silently offers him the water bottle. Liam takes the water, swishes it around his mouth, then spits into the bucket before shaking his head.
"What was he expecting? To finish me in the first round?"
Without answering, Doyle calmly wipes the sweat from Liam's face before applying another thin layer of petroleum jelly around his eyebrows, cheekbones, and nose.
"But I have to admit it," Liam continues. "He caught me off guard out there. I didn't expect him to come at me that aggressively."
"Settle your breathing," Doyle finally says. "Calm yourself. If that kid wants to finish this fight in the opening rounds, let him chase it. Let him burn his own gas tank. That's what young fighters do. They get excited when things go their way."
Liam takes a long, steady breath, then another, gradually settling back into his own rhythm. After a few seconds, he gives a small nod.
"Right," he says quietly. "We'll see how long he can keep fighting like that."
***
On the other side of the ring, the blue corner is noticeably calmer. No one rushes to fuss over Ryoma. His team gives him water to rinse the mouth, wipes away the sweat, and then simply leaves him enough space to recover in peace.
"That was an excellent first round," Nakahara says. "You kept him trapped in the corner far longer than I expected. But don't rush it. We both know how tough he is. Don't burn through your own stamina trying to force the finish before he's ready to fall."
Ryoma is still mildly irritated that Liam managed to escape, but the frustration has already settled. His eyes remain fixed on the opposite corner while his Vision Grid quietly reassesses Liam O'Connell's condition.
"So that's the face of someone who's spent years getting punched," he murmurs. "I wonder if Wolff's Law applies to facial bones too."
"Yes, to a certain extent," Hiroshi replies. "Repeated impact does make bone remodel over time. But what you're seeing isn't just denser bone. The skin, connective tissue, even the muscles around the face all get tougher after years of taking punches. Look at Okabe, for example. That's one of the reasons he's so hard to put away."
"Hey, Hiroshi..." Okabe raises an eyebrow. "Are you complimenting me or calling me thick-headed?"
Hiroshi shrugs. "I'm just explaining the science."
Hiroshi glances toward the opposite corner before speaking again. "And don't forget what we noticed at yesterday's weigh-in. His neck."
Ryoma doesn't look away from Liam. "It's unusually thick."
"Exactly," Hiroshi says. "A strong neck won't make him impossible to knock out, but it helps. The stronger the muscles around the neck, the better they can resist the head snapping around after impact. Less violent head movement means less rotational force on the brain, better balance, and a better chance of staying composed after taking a clean shot."
Nakahara nods in agreement. "That's one of the reasons experienced pressure fighters spend so much time strengthening their necks. They know they're going to get hit."
Ryoma continues studying Liam across the ring. Truthfully, he had reached the same conclusion the moment they stood face-to-face at yesterday's weigh-in.
"Yeah," he says quietly. "This is going to take a while. He's not just good at taking punches. Even under pressure, he makes the right defensive choice almost every time."