: Leo's vision was swimming, blurring the aggressive crowd into a sea of screaming faces.

As the bell rang for the sixth round, Marcus charged forward, confident and lethal. He threw a massive hook intended to end the match right then and there.

Leo's corner was a frantic mess of ice packs and desperate advice.

The arena fell into a deafening silence. Leo stood over the fallen champion, his chest heaving. He didn't throw another punch. He didn't need to. He had survived the ultimate physical thrashing and delivered a single, perfect counter.

: Leo channeled every ounce of his remaining strength and drove his right fist directly into Marcus's liver.

: Instead of backing away as he had done all night, Leo stepped into the danger, slipping just inside Marcus's massive arm.

The neon sign of the hole-in-the-wall gym buzzed like a trapped hornet, casting a sickly yellow glow over the cracked linoleum floor. Leo stood in the center of the ring, his knuckles raw and his breathing ragged.