Chapter 9: The First Test

The ring was alive with electricity. The crowd's hum, the smell of sweat and anticipation, and the sharp clang of gloves hitting pads filled the atmosphere. Malik stood in the locker room, his father beside him. The tension was palpable, not just from the crowd outside, but within him as well. This was the moment.

His first real fight. Not a sparring match or a training drill. This was the test to prove everything. The viral clips, the analysts, the social media fans—they were all watching. If he failed, it would be all over. If he won, it would prove what he already knew: he was more than just the son of Mike Tyson. He was Malik Tyson, and he was going to make a name for himself.

"Remember what we've worked on, Malik," Mike said, his voice steady, though there was a hint of pride in his eyes. "It's not about how hard you hit. It's about how you think and how you control the ring. The moment you stop thinking, is the moment you get careless. Don't let that happen."

Malik nodded. His father's words echoed in his head as he stepped out of the locker room, the bright lights and the roaring crowd greeting him. The arena was massive, the seats filled with thousands of people. They weren't just watching a fight; they were watching a story unfold. The son of the legend was stepping into the ring, and all eyes were on him.

His opponent was already in the ring, pacing like a caged animal, ready to unleash everything he had. Malik's opponent, a veteran fighter named Tony "The Tank" Davis, was no rookie. He was big, fast, and had a reputation for knocking people out cold. Malik knew that Tony was coming into this fight with one goal: to prove that the young prodigy wasn't ready for the big leagues.

Malik took his position in the corner, feeling the adrenaline pump through his veins. He could hear the crowd chanting, but all of it seemed distant. The only thing that mattered right now was the man standing across from him.

The bell rang.

Tony rushed forward, throwing heavy punches. His strategy was clear: close the distance quickly and overpower the young upstart. Malik was ready for it. He ducked and weaved, his reflexes sharp, his movements fluid. He had been born for this, his body already in sync with the art of boxing. Each move was a dance—a calculation. The punches came fast, but Malik wasn't rushed. He was calm, almost too calm.

A few jabs came his way, and Malik sidestepped, letting them miss. He felt the crowd's energy build with each avoided punch. He could hear them roar, feel the excitement in the air as Tony's fury was met with nothing but the empty sound of missed blows.

Tony threw a wild right hook, trying to catch Malik off guard. But Malik was ready. He stepped inside, pivoting, and with a quick left jab to Tony's jaw, he stunned the veteran. Tony staggered back, surprised by the speed and precision of the young fighter.

The crowd gasped. Malik Tyson was not just a product of his father's legacy—he was his own man in the ring.

"Come on, Tony! Show him what you've got!" the crowd yelled, urging the veteran on.

Tony recovered quickly, shaking off the punch, but Malik could see the hesitation. He could feel the shift in the energy of the fight. The Tank was no longer in control.

Malik's mind clicked into focus, and he remembered his father's advice: Control the ring. Control the pace. With a few quick steps, he closed the distance, landing a combination of jabs and hooks that left Tony reeling. His punches weren't just fast—they were calculated, each one designed to break down his opponent's defense.

Tony backed up, breathing heavy, his fists slow and less coordinated than they had been at the start. Malik saw an opening. He moved in, delivering a perfectly timed uppercut that sent Tony crashing to the canvas. The crowd erupted in a mix of shock and disbelief.

The referee started the count, but Tony didn't make it back up.

Malik Tyson had won his first real fight.

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Backstage, as the adrenaline started to wear off, Malik stood with his father, his chest rising and falling with deep breaths. He was exhausted, but the thrill of victory washed over him. He had done it. The clips, the comments, the expectations—they had all been pushed aside for now.

"You did good, son," Mike said, his voice gruff with pride. "You didn't just fight for the win—you fought smart. That's what makes a champion."

Malik smiled, feeling the weight of his father's words. This wasn't just a victory in the ring. It was the first step towards carving out his own legacy. Malik Tyson wasn't just a flash in the pan. He wasn't just the son of Mike Tyson.

He was Malik Tyson, and this was just the beginning.

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Social Media Explodes:

Twitter:

"Did Malik Tyson just do that? Young kid just knocked out Tony 'The Tank' Davis in the first round! #MalikTyson #TheFutureOfBoxing"

"Wait... did Malik Tyson just show us why he's the real deal? I've never seen someone move like that. Kid's got the skills. #NextBigThing"

"The hype is real, y'all. Malik Tyson is here to stay. Tony got rocked, and it wasn't even close. #KO #BoxingProdigy"

Instagram:

"Malik Tyson's first fight, and he already has the world talking. The kid's got the hands, the skills, and the heart. #Boxing #LegendInTheMaking #MalikTyson"

"The way he handled that fight… next level. The prodigy is real. #MalikTyson #KO #TheFuture"

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Malik's name was no longer just a buzz. It was a force.

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