Arrival at the Arena

As they made their way to the registration area, Tyson received his number plate.

Once confirmed by the staff, he headed to the athlete's rest area.

At 16, Tyson was among the youngest in the youth division, which capped at 20. Most boxers here were 18 or 19, with few as young as he was.

The atmosphere buzzed with excitement as the competition commenced. Cheers echoed from the audience outside, signaling that the matches were underway.

Soon, Tyson heard his name called. He walked to the dressing area and donned his athletic shorts, then accepted the gloves and mouthguard from the staff. With Teddy's assistance, he secured his gear.

For this fight, they used 10-ounce gloves.

Under staff guidance, he approached the center of the arena. After a thorough inspection by the referee, he stepped into the ring.

His opponent—a tall, 18-year-old weighing around 90 kilograms—stood before him, exuding strength. Yet, when their eyes locked, the boy appeared unnerved.

"His gaze is primal," the opponent thought, shaken by Tyson's fierce demeanor. Tyson's eyes bore intense ferocity, reminiscent of a predator ready to strike.

With a blank expression, he fixed his unwavering stare on his opponent—like a tiger waiting for prey.

Tyson noticed the moment the other boy's gaze faltered, realizing he was already psychologically defeated.

A referee in a white shirt and black pants called for both fighters, urging them to respect the rules and one another.

During the pre-fight address, Tyson's fearsome eyes remained locked on the opponent, who averted his gaze, lowering his head before glancing up, only to quickly look down again.

As soon as the formalities ended and the command to "touch gloves" was given, Tyson extended his hand, meeting his opponent's with a firm tap.

With the referee calling for distance, the bell rang, and the match began.

Tyson's eyes remained intensely focused. He shuffled his feet, circling the ring as he approached.

With lightning speed, he unleashed a straight punch that landed cleanly before his opponent could raise his guard.

The impact sent the white boy reeling backward, hitting the canvas with a thud.

The referee had just created space to observe, but Tyson's quick victory left him rushing to ascertain if the fighter could continue.

The opponent lay motionless, unconscious.

The referee swiftly signaled to end the bout while medical personnel rushed to the ring to attend to him.

Tyson stood, tossed his gloves aside, and twirled in place, inviting the crowd to appreciate this quick showcase of power.

Excitement erupted among the audience.

"This match was over before I could even grab a drink!"

"I was just getting my snack, and it's done?"

"Did I just miss the whole thing?"

"What just happened?"

In mere seconds—5.5 or maybe 6 seconds—the match concluded, setting a new record for the fastest finish in the Golden Glove Championship.

The arena's large screen replayed the match, freezing the moment of victory, displaying the time: **6.16 seconds**.

This new record surpassed Rich Marcus's 1974 time of 7.37 seconds, generating cheers from the crowd as they celebrated witnessing history.

Teddy, ecstatic, embraced Tyson on stage. "Mike, you broke the record! You hold the title for the fastest win!"

Tyson shrugged, remaining modest.

Returning to the lounge, the gaze of the other boxers shifted toward him, a mixture of awe and respect.

He was undoubtedly a force to be recognized.

With another match scheduled for the evening, Tyson settled in the lounge as anticipation built.

"Hey, man, great job out there!" a young boxer in his twenties approached.

Tyson locked eyes with him for a moment, registering the apprehension there.

He reached out. "Just doing my job. I'm Mike," he introduced himself.

"Rich," the other replied, shaking Tyson's hand.

Rich, stocky and slightly shorter than Tyson, mentioned, "Your speed and aggression intimidate everyone. A lot of guys are hesitant to come talk to you."

"Is that so? I simply did what I had to do," Tyson responded with a smile.

Rich was chatty, and after some brief conversation, he moved on to prepare for his fight.

Around 8:30, Tyson was called again as the second bout approached.

This time he donned red gloves.

His new opponent, Jensen, was a mix of Latino and white, possessing healthy, tanned skin, curly hair, and a prominent nose.

Despite the intimidating aura Tyson projected, Jensen met it with unexpected calmness, though Tyson could sense an underlying nervousness.

As the match began, Jensen fell into an immediate disadvantage. Faced with Tyson's relentless strikes, he struggled to keep up.

Midway through the first round, after absorbing a combination of uppercuts, Jensen couldn't recover and collapsed to the canvas, unable to rise.

"Wow, this guy's a powerhouse!" someone in the audience exclaimed, awed by Tyson's dominance.

"I've never witnessed a fighter with such relentless ferocity; he devours his opponents like prey," another noted, captivated by Tyson's skill.

The crowd was entranced, eager to learn more about this exceptional talent.

As Tyson left the ring victorious, Teddy was all excitement. "Mike, you were phenomenal! The crowd was in disbelief!"

Tyson chuckled. "Seems the competition just isn't on my level."

After the bout, praise poured in from Kus, who commended Tyson's performance. "You've begun to unleash the beast within. Your future holds even greater triumphs."

With another match looming three days away, Tyson dove back into training.

As every fighter knows, competing is easy; training is the true test. Sessions often left him spent, pushing through soreness to grow stronger.

Tyson understood that while talent mattered, hard work was paramount.

As Kus mentioned, "Strength is built through consistency, while success demands relentless effort."

Thus, he trained relentlessly, even during travel, driven by a fervent desire to achieve his dreams.

Three days flew by, and Tyson and Teddy set out once more.

This time, rather than fear, the other young boxers averted their eyes. Everyone except Rich, who greeted Tyson, joking, "I've got a bad feeling—I think you'll have me on the mat today!"

"Let's see if your hunch is right," Tyson replied, amused.

When their names were called, Teddy chuckled. "Looks like the universe agrees with you, Rich!"

The mood shifted as they changed into their gear and positioned themselves in the ring.

Tyson's intensity made Rich visibly anxious.

At the start of the match, it became evident that Rich was outmatched.

He was knocked down once in the opening round and struggled to regain his footing.

As anticipated, Rich's coach threw in the towel, ending the fight in the first round.

All three matches concluded before the second round, a rarity even in amateur competitions like the Golden Gloves.

Tyson had once again become the topic of conversation among attendees.

The night continued, and Tyson's next opponent tried to gauge his fierce reputation. Instead of stepping up, he chose to flee the ring.