Chapter 952 - 952: The Confidence Trap

Malik looks confident now, all his doubt seemingly gone. His footwork has grown smoother, dancing around a small patch of space with rhythmic pendulum steps. He moves with the easy confidence of a man who has just solved the universe's greatest mystery and now believes he can calculate everything.

In the red corner, however, Nakahara and his team remain completely unfazed, watching the fight with genuine conviction in Ryoma's chances. Ryoma himself looks no different, still composed, those observant eyes following every movement in front of him.

When Malik begins his aggression, blending it with random hesitations and feints, Ryoma simply reacts to everything. He flicks his guard, steps back, angles out, or makes the slightest movement of his head.

To everyone watching, Malik's strategy seems to be working. His constant feints and hesitations make Ryoma look increasingly uncertain, as though the champion is finally being forced to second-guess what comes next.

And Malik finally steps in with the same belief in that reality.

"Come on, kid…"

"Let's trade again, shall we?"

He presses Ryoma with a sharp combination of punches. And for some reason, Ryoma chooses to stay on the line this time, catching every punch by adjusting his guard.

He catches the first two with his long guard.

Dp. Dp.

Then he brings his guard tighter, protecting his head…

Dug. Dug. Dug.

Then he adjusts his guard to catch a lead hook to the body.

Dug.

As he balance is a bit compromised by that heavy punch, he simply takes one subtle step back and lightly catches the next cross on his long guard.

Dp.

Never once does he angle out with that Cuban defensive geometry. He doesn't slip or roll, either. He stays on the line, allowing Malik to build his combination.

The pressure eventually drives him to the ropes, and Ryoma swiftly shifts to the bladed-stance, applying the Philly Shell without the slip and rolls.

He catches the punch with his right palm, absorbs the body shot on his right forearm and lead shoulder.

Dp. Dug. Dug.

Dug. Dp. Dug. Dug.

Every punch meets a solid guard; parried, blocked, or deflected, as though Ryoma has suddenly forgotten how to read Malik's punches and evade them.

"Ryoma is in a bit of trouble here!" the first commentator says.

"It looks like Adebayo may have found something we all missed earlier," his partner adds.

"Or perhaps those last few exchanges have made Takeda decide to play it safe."

"He's not giving Malik the angles anymore. He's just covering up and absorbing the pressure."

The excitement from Malik's supporters rises with every punch. Gasps and cheers ripple through their section in quick succession, each heavy impact drawing another burst of noise.

"Come on, Malik!"

"Keep going!"

"Break that guard!"

"Get him, Malik!"

"Don't let him breathe!"

The confidence that had vanished during the first round has returned in full, their voices growing louder with every thudding shot Malik sends into Ryoma's guard.

Their support feeds Malik's confidence in return, swelling with every punch and every cheer, without him realizing that Ryoma is deliberately letting him feast on that confidence.

For once, Malik deliberately gives Ryoma an opening to counter, believing that is exactly what Ryoma has been waiting for.

He sends a lead hook while dropping his right guard, leaving his chin exposed.

Ryoma takes the bait, but only with a flicking jab.

Malik quickly brings his guard back up.

Dug.

Ryoma immediately steps in, cocks his right hand as a feint, then uses the moment to slip off the ropes and return toward the centre of the ring.

Malik turns around, clicking his tongue with an unimpressed look. "What's wrong, kid? Getting a bit scared to trade punches with me?"

Hearing that, Ryoma deliberately twitches his face, feigning an expression as though Malik's words have genuinely bruised his pride.

Inside, however, his mind remains perfectly calm, still following a strategy no one has recognized yet. He knows Malik is deliberately forcing dual exchanges to deal with him. But this isn't the first time Ryoma has faced it.

Ryoma lowers his stance and plants both feet firmly on the canvas, his posture seemingly inviting Malik to trade right there in the centre of the ring.

Malik's grin widens. He nods slowly, almost approvingly, then starts closing the distance toward Ryoma.

"So you finally stop running away, huh?"

The atmosphere tightens as the two fighters settle within punching range. Their feet barely move, with only small feints and subtle head movements passing between them.

A shoulder twitches. A glove shifts. One chin tilts slightly forward, offering an invitation before immediately pulling back.

Neither takes the bait. They simply remain there, waiting for the other to blink first.

"Something's changed."

"Neither one is giving the other the first read."

"This could turn very quickly."

"One mistake here…"

"…and it could be costly."

Malik blinks first, and Ryoma sends a flicking jab at the same time. But of course, Malik still manages to bring his right guard up, his left fist clenching tighter.

Ryoma cancels his jab. And it is actually Malik who launches the real first strike.

A sharp one-two follows a split second later.

Ryoma parries the first, slips the second, then flicks his own jab, clipping Malik on the right cheek.

Dsh!

His right glove is already moving into position for the cross, completing the one-two sequence.

Malik winces, but he sees the cross coming. Instead of retreating, he forces out a swinging lead hook toward the body.

But beneath, Ryoma switches his stance, sliding his right foot forward as he fires the right hand.

Once the punch connects…

Dsh!

Ryoma immediately tilts his body inward, folding himself just enough for Malik's lead hook to sail over his right shoulder and sweep harmlessly across his back.

At the same moment, Ryoma's right glove is already tucked beneath Malik's chin.

He simply snaps it upward in a compact uppercut.

Thuck!

Then follows with a quick left cross.

Dhuack!

Malik's head snaps back. But seeing Ryoma still so close, he still swings a right hook, forcing the exchange.

But the punch comes at a terrible angle, and Ryoma easily slips underneath it before fires a low-to-high hook combination.

Thud!

DSH!

"OH!"

"What was that?!"

"They just traded at lightning speed!"

"Takeda got inside and ripped through him!"

The arena erupts as Malik staggers toward the left, fighting to regain his balance with his legs momentarily out of position.

Still in southpaw, Ryoma makes a quick ghost step and drives a stiff phantom jab with his right toward Malik's head.

Dsh!

He switches stance again and fires another phantom jab with his left.

Dsh!

Another switch, another phantom jab with the right.

Dsh!

"Oh, he's not letting him reset!"

"Malik can't even get his feet back underneath him!"

Malik is given no chance to recover his stance or regain his balance. Each phantom jab forces him another step backward until his back finally touches the ropes.

The arena is completely swept up in the sudden surge of action, the excitement spilling through every section as Ryoma keeps Malik pinned near the ropes.

Dug. Dug. THUD! Dug. BUGH! Dug. THUD!

The scattered cheers merge into a single rhythm. The chant rolls around the arena, growing louder with every beat.

"RYO-MA!"

"RYO-MA!"

"RYO-MA!"

"This is getting hot now!"

"Takeda has him trapped, and the shots are getting heavier!"

"Malik Adebayo is taking punishment here!"

"Can Ryoma finish him?"

"Are we about to see Adebayo dropped?!"

Malik tries to weather the storm, doing everything he can to protect his head behind a compact shell.

Ryoma remains calm, picking his targets with care. Every so often, he punches the guard itself, forcing Malik to keep it high before slipping another shot underneath.

Dug. Dug.

BUGH!

Dug. THUD! THUD!

Unable to endure the punishment much longer, Malik finally opens his guard, reaching forward in an attempt to wrap both arms around Ryoma's head and force a clinch.

Ryoma catches the opening with a lead hook to the head.

Dsh!

Malik's head snaps sideways, but he eventually gets both hands around the back of Ryoma's neck.

Ryoma simply ducks, still driving two short left hooks into Malik's side.

THUD! THUD!

Malik grunts in pain and bears down on the back of Ryoma's neck, forcing his head downward until that head drops below Malik's waist.

From that position, Ryoma can no longer throw. So he simply stops, waiting for the referee to step in.

"Oh, he's got him now!"

"Malik has managed to smother Takeda's attack and drag him right out of his punching position."

"Smart survival there from Adebayo. He was taking too many shots on the ropes, so he's bought himself a moment to breathe."

The referee hesitates for a moment, and Malik moves first, releasing his right hand and snaps a short punch into Ryoma's face.

Dsh!

"Oh! He caught Takeda completely off guard!"

"Wait a second… are we allowing that?"

"Malik was holding the back of his neck down just moments ago. That's not exactly a legal position to be punching from!"

Ryoma straightens and takes several steps backward, his eyes wide as he turns toward the referee.

"What the fuck are you doing? He was fucking holding my head down just now! That was more than three seconds, and you just fucking watched that?"

The referee looks visibly uneasy. He knows the hold went too far, and the decision to penalize Malik has already formed in his mind, but panic gets there first.

At the same time, Malik spots something else; Ryoma is completely open, his left arm hangs low, while his right hand is still extended toward the referee as he protests.

It is the biggest opening Malik has seen all night, and he takes it.

"Stupid, kid!"

"Protect yourself all the time!"

He steps forward, then suddenly launches himself into a huge gazelle punch.

The referee finally reacts.

"Hey, Malik, wait!"

But Ryoma isn't completely careless. There is still enough distance between them, and the punch is telegraphed so violently that there is no way he can miss it.

Instead of retreating, Ryoma steps forward.

"KONOYARO!"

BHUACK!!!

A heavy jolt counter crashes straight into Malik's face, so hard that, for a split second, he seems to stop in mid-air.