Samuel Robinson

[Begin!]

With the announcer's signal echoing through the arena, the bout had started. It was his first match within the Celestial Fist, even if it was qualifiers, it was in a league far above anything he'd participated in before.

The shine of lights, focusing on the arena itself, the tens-of-thousands of eyes, potentially millions with the broadcast–it was a spectacle, and he was the one driving it at this moment.

…With these many eyes on me, I can't disappoint, can I? He thought.

As he looked forward, the British MMA legend was closing in on him already without a moment to waste; holding his burly arms up as he closed the distance.

Right to the point? I can do that, he thought.

A fist sailed in his direction, aiming for the bridge of his nose as those massive knuckles blocked his view of anything behind them.

With a clean spin, he sidestepped the blow, weaving his footwork in such a way that he managed to get behind Samuel in a seamless movement.

"Behind you, big fella," he playfully announced.

He didn't throw any sort of counter while having his opponent's back completely exposed to him, which seemed to anger the quiet MMA warrior who spun around with a spinning backfist, though it didn't come close to even grazing Touma.

[What's this?! The rookie–Touma Daigo–is playing in the arena?! Is he just as cocky as can be or does Touma really possess enough skill to treat this like a game! Let's see, folks!]

He smiled from the announcer's words while his golden eyes stayed dutifully on Samuel, continuing to weave through a barrage of haymakers that came his way. Each blow that came in his direction served its own cutting wind pressure.

From the stands, Chimon scratched his chin, "Playing around like that…Did I not get through to Touma?"

"Huh?" Ishikawa looked at the man.

"He'll get put out cold if he treats the Celestial Fist like a game," Chimon said.

–

To his precise eyes, the fists were almost slow as he could almost stand still and move just his head.

I can do this all day, big fella! You've got power, but you don't have the same speed as Chimon! He thought.

–Though those smiling thoughts were dissuaded in a flash as suddenly–the next fist that came his way was withdrawn with surprising finesse.

A feint? He realized.

A fakeout wasn't anything he wasn't prepared to handle, but it wasn't a set-up into his right fist being thrown instead or a kick, but instead, the man ducked down and rushed him low.

…Tackle? He's a wrestler? He realized.

It was as if a rhino was charging him, clad in steel-like hide with a heavy, powerful form to match; there would be no stopping Samuel in his tracks once he began his tackle.

Not good, Chimon thought, If you're taken to the ground by a wrestler like Samuel, it's over.

He tried countering with a swift knee to the tattooed man's nose as he closed in, but it didn't stop Samuel, who continued rushing forward right for his lower half. The precise knee to the nose did manage to cause blood to stream from the man's nostrils, but it wasn't as if it affected him in the least.

Is this guy a freakin' robot or something?! He thought.

Being caught in a takedown from a goliath like Samuel wasn't a path he wanted to take, which led him to his next maneuver–

[Heavenly Daigo Style: Phantom Pass!]

It was a defensive technique made specifically for opponent's who overwhelmed foes in the area of "close-range fighting", allowing him to use his swift footwork and nimble body to use the man's own body as an obstacle, jumping right over his head.

[Talk about slippery! Touma Daigo isn't an easy one to catch!]

"Grgh…!" Samuel let out.

The MMA heavyweight stumbled over to the otherside of the arena as his rhino-like charge was subverted.

"...Phew," he landed behind the man.

As soon as he turned around to face his opponent, he was greeted by the sight of Samuel rushing towards him again, exuding steam from his nostrils like a raging bull.

Finally serious? He thought.

With his hands held forward and his body low with that look of unstoppable focus in his eyes, Samuel went for another tackle, springing forward with explosive strength in his legs that allowed him to close the distance in an instant.

Again? He thought.

This time, properly ready to defend against the wrestling expert's takedown attempt, he launched his own technique.

[Heavenly Daigo Style: Ivory Fang!]

As his knee shot up towards the man's nose once more, surely hitting–it missed.

"--!"

In an unexpected turn, that explosive movement was displayed again as Samuel shot up, standing up straight as he dragged his knuckles through the air, straight upward straight against Touma's chin with a devastating force behind it.

"Pyuh!" Touma spit out.

A takedown fakeout…?! He realized.

The force from the surprise uppercut managed to lift him a good meter into the air as a mixture of blood and saliva spewed from his mouth.

[A nasty fakeout! That's Samuel's legendary "volatile spring" at work! Don't let his large physique fool you–that man can move like a bullet when he needs to!]

It wasn't as though such a maneuver was anything supreme; while it was unexpected for him, it wouldn't normally catch him off-guard like that.

But, there was a simple reason why Samuel Robin's fake out worked:

"He's got superb, explosive power," Chimon commented.

"Explosive power? Like in his fists?" Ishikawa asked.

Chimon nodded, "Yeah, but it's not just in his punches. It's all throughout his body; he can tap into that volatile, instantaneous power for quick bursts. It's the sort of training american football players use to be so fast despite their large builds. It's all in that explosive strength–but Samuel is on another level of that. Still…"

"Yeah," the glasses-wearing young man nodded.

Chimon smiled, "None of that means Touma is losing."