Hit you till you retire

Tyson squared his shoulders and set his gaze forward.

In that moment, Randy threw a punch that didn't land squarely on Tyson's face; instead, it grazed Tyson's hair and sliced through the air, missing its target. It was a critical mistake, and Tyson sensed the shift in momentum.

With a swift, profound instinct, Tyson unleashed a rarely seen, powerful swing. His fist met Randy's face with the force of a hammer, sending shockwaves through Randy's senses. The impact was so powerful that Randy felt disoriented, his back pressing against the ropes as he struggled to regain his footing.

Tyson was relentless, quickly closing the distance and launching two rapid hooks towards Randy. Each strike landed with precision, overwhelming Randy's defenses. The fighter's knees buckled beneath him, and he found himself kneeling on the canvas, weakened and vulnerable.

Surprisingly, Tyson held back, inching sideways to offer the referee room to intervene. The official raised his fingers and began his count.

Landy lay on the ground for a moment, gathering his strength. After a few seconds, he pushed himself up, indicating with his fists held firmly to his chin that he was ready to continue. Despite that determination, he stood there, the instability of his legs disguised beneath an outward appearance of resolve.

The referee, assessing the situation, nodded and signaled for the fight to proceed.

Tyson had an unsettling feeling in the pit of his stomach; he knew he had broken Randy's will. When the bell rang and the match resumed, Tyson surged forward, launching a fierce, unyielding assault.

Randy attempted to respond, throwing a punch that barely connected, only to be met by a vicious uppercut that stripped him of any ability to fight back.

Tyson unleashed a torrent of punches, leaving no room for weakness. His strikes were like a relentless battering ram, crushing Randy's defenses with each powerful blow.

Randy was doing everything he could to protect himself, his arms encircling his head as he tried to absorb the assault. It wasn't a choice made out of desire but necessity; he was running low on energy and options.

He braced for impact and began to retreat, curling into a defensive posture as Tyson's fists continued to rain down with merciless efficiency. His attempts to dodge were futile. Each punch found its mark on the gloves he used for protection, the sound echoing through the arena, intensifying the atmosphere.

The crowd erupted into cheers, the noise booming like thunder, electrifying the air with excitement.

After several relentless seconds, the referee stepped in, pushing Tyson back and waving his hands to signal the end of the round.

The first round came to an abrupt halt.

Randy slowly made his way back to his feet, pushing the referee aside in frustration. He stripped off his gloves and tossed them to the ground, his dismissal of the referee's decision evident in his actions.

Disapproval swept through the crowd, a chorus of boos erupting around the arena. They knew that Randy no longer had the capacity to mount a counterattack, and the referee had acted to protect him from further damage. Yet they were angry with Randy, who had left the ring prematurely, an unsanctioned exit that contradicted the spirit of the sport.

In that moment, the focus shifted—this fight was Tyson's, and the audience was wholeheartedly with him.

The large screen above displayed Tyson lifting his fists triumphantly, his victory stirring the spectators who began to rise to their feet, clapping and cheering.

Kus tossed his hat into the air in sheer excitement, exclaiming, "Incredible job, Tyson!"

"Tyson's power is astonishing! It seems unbelievable that someone his size could generate such might. He truly embodies the 'Beast' Mike Tyson, moving with the ferocity of a tiger stalking its prey!"

"Absolutely! Tyson exemplifies the art of boxing with those heavy punches."

The energy in the arena was palpable, so much so that the two TV commentators struggled to keep their voices steady amid the raucous applause.

...

"Mike, what an extraordinary day! You've taken down two regional champions in a single day. While that might shock others, it's nothing new for you, the embodiment of primal strength," Kus continued, praising Tyson's dominance.

"You're undeniably powerful, but remember: strength alone won't secure your legacy. Each opponent requires your utmost intensity, every challenger standing before you will test your resolve. Use your fists and your footwork; dismantle them piece by piece, leaving no fragments behind. Take a page from Ali's book—wear down your opponent mentally and physically until they've lost the will to fight back. Show them the brutal reality of the ring and make their dreams crumble before their eyes."

"Fear will manifest itself in every corner of the ring. They'll pray, 'Please, don't let me face that man.' But there's no safety net in boxing. They can only look into your eyes and face the storm you bring. In those moments, you possess the power to shape their fate."

Kus's passion soared to greater heights with every word, gesturing animatedly as if rallying a crowd.

Although the temperature had dipped, Kus wore only a light jacket, a decision that raised concerns.

Tyson couldn't help but think of Kus's previous health scare that had nearly taken him from the spotlight.

"Kus, you really need to think about what you're wearing. This cold weather isn't something to be taken lightly."

Kus, ever the stubborn soul, brushed off the concern. "It's just a minor inconvenience. What matters is the fight. Don't let this distract you!"

"No, Kus. Your health has to come first. I can endure anything, but I won't jeopardize your well-being."

"It's just a little chill, nothing to worry about!"

Kus's irritation was apparent.

Just then, Teddy appeared with two coats. After briefly considering them, Kus opted to retreat to the room instead of wearing them.

Teddy shook his head, "Older folks can be quite stubborn. Don't waste your energy worrying; he's been tough."

But Tyson insisted, "No, Teddy. Kus may not be young anymore. We need to keep a close watch on him. If something seems off, we need to act quickly. We can't afford any delays—his health is too important."

After a moment of contemplation, Teddy nodded in agreement. "Yes, we should prioritize his health."

Their discussion drifted to other topics as they eventually retired to their rooms for the night, knowing full well they would face the battles of tomorrow together.