Sarugian staggered, his eyes glassy and unfocused. Just watching him brought a wave of dizziness over me, and I struggled to keep my own footing.
Ye Chen was poised to unleash a spectacular superman punch off the cage just as the bell rang to signal the end of the round. He envisioned that punch as the grand finale, a dramatic close to their fierce battle. But, unfortunately, reality had other plans for him.
Disappointment washed over me as I witnessed the referee's error. The very moment Ye Chen soared towards the cage, the referee intercepted him mid-air, wrapping his arms around Ye Chen and pulling him back. The bell had rung, and the round was officially over.
This was standard practice for referees, ready to intervene when a moment of stagnation or a bell indication occurred. They maintain a vigilant watch over the fighters, standing at the ready, knowing full well how easily competitors can lose track of time amidst the adrenaline-fueled chaos. If a strike lands just as the bell tolls, and the player didn't intend it, the onus falls on the referee for missing the moment.
"Stop, stop, stop!" the referee shouted, his eyes darting between the fighters.
Dazed from the fight, Sarugian instinctively ducked, clutching his head in an effort to shield himself from Ye Chen's dramatic punch.
Soon enough, the Octagon door swung open, and Sarugian's coaching staff surged forward with stools in hand. Meanwhile, Ye Chen could do little more than retreat to his corner, swallowing his frustration. With no stool to ease his exhaustion, he found himself standing tall while his own team rushed to treat Sarugian.
He watched from a distance as Sarugian's team sprang into action, applying ice packs, working on his muscles, and pinching him to revive his focus. A pang of loneliness washed over Ye Chen. It was a stark reminder of the absence of his own support team. Previous matches had ended early, making it easy to overlook the significance of camaraderie in this brutal sport.
The arena held its breath, an air of melancholy settling as onlookers and commentators alike noted Ye Chen's solitude in the corner.
Outside the cage, Catwoman's gaze pierced through the tension, her large eyes sparkling with concern. For a moment, she stood, ready to yell some encouragement, but her voice fell silent, lost among the clamor of the crowd.
Coach Salugian's shouts echoed in the tension-filled air. "Don't engage on your feet! Avoid a stand-up battle!" His voice was strained, drowning in anxiety. He cupped Sarugian's face and urged him to remember, "You're the best! Don't get into a striking contest. He's dangerous! Ground control is your advantage - remember that!"
Sipping water, Sarugian glimpsed Ye Chen and offered a faint nod of acknowledgment.
Meanwhile, Ye Chen remained introspective, running through scenarios of the match in his mind. In the simulation space, he could already see the outcome of their previous encounter; he had been pinned beneath Sarugian's relentless strikes, blood seeping from cuts inflicted in a flurry of elbows and fists. They had to stop the fight due to the severity of his injuries.
Shaking his head, he pushed aside the memory and restarted the simulation, focusing as the crowd's excitement swelled.
"Woooo!" The arena erupted in cheers, drawing his attention to a familiar presence behind him. A towel flung on his head broke his concentration, causing him to turn. And there she was—the woman who had dared to take his shirt, her eyes glinting with mischief.
"I could use this towel," he muttered, swiping it away as he wiped his brow. Lightly tapping the cage net in mock aggression, he aimed a grin toward her, teasingly engaging.
Startled, Catwoman recoiled but quickly regained her composure. "What do you think you're doing?"
"I appreciate the towel, but could you return my shirt?" he replied, noticing her playful demeanor. "Or are you trying to collect memorabilia?"
A flicker of recognition crossed his mind, as if he should remember her from somewhere—but he couldn't quite grasp it. Laughter bubbled beneath her mask, and though the cage separated them, he could sense her smirk.
"Sounds like you're the one with a collection obsession," she shot back, her eyes narrowing playfully. Even hidden behind the mask, her expression was undeniable.
"I'll give you some water, if you give me your shirt back," she said, handing him a water bottle, half-consumed. Ye Chen hesitated only for a moment; thirst outweighed suspicion.
"Thanks for the drink," he said, taking a couple of grateful sips. Glancing at her, he probed, "Why don't you have a coach? Need me to recommend one for you?"
"Poison? Is that what you think of me?" Ye Chen chuckled lightly, deflecting her question with a smirk.
As the second round commenced, he turned to the cage, determination coursing through his veins. With a final slap against the mesh, he expressed gratitude toward Catwoman, who watched him with an intense gaze, feelings swirling in her eyes.
The second round began, and both fighters stepped into the battle more cautiously. Ye Chen felt the weight of fatigue and knew that the dwindling energy reserves were pressing against him like an iron shackle.
Through the flurry of strikes and evasions, he would need to navigate this brutal dance carefully. Every movement counted, every breath measured, as he faced Sarugian—a grappling master whose prowess threatened to overpower Ye Chen's stamina.
With every interaction, with every round, this fight was not merely a test of skills; it was a trial of spirit, and Ye Chen was determined to forge his path, back against the wall and heart ablaze with fight.