Jason’s Path 020

By the second round, Ali began implementing another element of the style: counter-punching. When Haris threw a wild hook, Ali slipped it and responded with a crisp uppercut to the chin. When Haris lunged in with a straight, Ali parried it and landed a punishing shot to the ribs. The crowd gasped as the dynamic shifted. Haris's aggression was his strength, but Ali's calculated responses were turning it into a liability.

By the third round, Haris's frustration was evident. His punches became sloppier, his breathing heavier. Ali, though battered, kept his composure. Coach Rahman's voice echoed in his mind: "Outlast him, Ali. Make him play your game."

Haris, desperate to regain control, unleashed a brutal combination—a right hook followed by a left uppercut. Ali dodged the hook, absorbing the uppercut on his guard. The impact rattled him, but he stayed grounded. He took a step back, drawing Haris in, and then executed a perfect counter: a feint with his left followed by a devastating straight right to Haris's jaw.

Haris staggered, his legs wobbling as the crowd roared. Ali didn't let up. He pressed forward, landing a series of jabs and body shots. The final round approached, and Haris's confidence was cracking.

Meanwhile, Zahra and Farid were creating their own spectacle. Their over-the-top cheering—complete with airhorns and choreographed chants—had drawn the ire of Haris's fan club.

"Hey! Sit down, will you?" shouted a rival supporter, a middle-aged man with a whistle around his neck.

"Sit down? This is a boxing match, not a library!" Zahra shot back, blowing the airhorn directly in his direction.

Farid, ever the instigator, added, "Yeah! Why don't you sit down and take notes? You might learn something about realsupport!"

The argument escalated into a hilarious exchange of popcorn throwing and accidental spills. Security had to intervene, much to the embarrassment of both groups. Crystall glanced over at the commotion, shaking her head with a small smile before returning her focus to Ali.

The final round began, and both fighters were running on fumes. Haris charged forward, his punches wild and powerful. Ali, however, remained poised, his Soviet-style instincts kicking in. He moved like a chess player, always a step ahead.

As the clock ticked down, Ali saw his chance. Haris lunged forward with a telegraphed right cross, leaving his chin exposed. Ali slipped the punch with a smooth pivot and unleashed a thunderous counter-punch—a left hook that connected squarely with Haris's jaw.

The sound echoed through the arena as Haris crumpled to the canvas. The referee began the count: "One… Two… Three…"

The crowd was on their feet, Zahra and Farid leading the cheers. Crystall's pencil froze mid-sketch, her heart pounding as she watched.

"…Eight… Nine… Ten!"

The referee waved his arms, declaring the match over. Ali had won.

The arena erupted in applause as Ali raised his gloves in victory. Haris, though defeated, nodded in acknowledgment before being helped out of the ring.

Ali's friends rushed to his side as he climbed down, Zahra practically tackling him in a hug. "You did it, Ali! You're one step away from the finals!"

Farid, tears streaming down his face, declared, "I always believed in you, man! Not a single doubt!"

"Except when you said he'd get knocked out in the second round," Zahra quipped, earning a glare from Farid.

Crystall approached quietly, holding her sketchbook. "You were amazing out there," she said, handing him a page. It was a stunning sketch of Ali mid-punch, his expression fierce and determined.

Ali stared at it, his chest tightening. "Thanks," he mumbled, his voice barely audible.

As the group celebrated, Ali glanced across the arena. Jason stood by the locker room entrance, his arms crossed. Their eyes met, and the air between them seemed to crackle with tension.

Jason's face was unreadable, but there was something in his gaze—a mix of respect and challenge. Without a word, he turned and walked away.

Ali tightened his fists, feeling the weight of what lay ahead. "One more," he whispered to himself. "One more fight to prove I belong here."

The crowd's cheers echoed around him as the anticipation for the finals reached a fever pitch.

---

The stadium hummed with excitement as the second semifinal match was announced. Jason Tan, the reigning prodigy of the boxing circuit, strode into the ring with his usual quiet confidence. His crimson gloves caught the light, his movements deliberate and methodical. The crowd erupted in cheers and murmurs, but Jason's eyes were fixed on the man across from him: Khalid Mahmood, a wildcard fighter with a reputation for unpredictability.

Khalid grinned, bouncing on his toes as he waved to the crowd. His style was chaotic, blending unconventional angles and flashy footwork that had thrown off many skilled opponents. Jason, however, remained stoic, his mind running through countless scenarios.

The bell rang.

Jason started the match like a machine. His punches were precise, his footwork flawless as he cut off Khalid's angles and forced him into a defensive position. A straight jab to the face followed by a sharp hook to the body rattled Khalid, earning gasps from the audience.

Despite Khalid's erratic movements, Jason's ability to read his opponent was unparalleled. He feinted, baited Khalid into overcommitting, and punished him with brutal counters. It was a masterclass in control and power.

"Wow," Zahra muttered from the stands, her mouth full of popcorn. "It's like he's playing chess while Khalid's playing... I dunno, musical chairs?"

"Yeah, but Khalid's tough," Farid added, squinting at the ring. "Watch. He's got something up his sleeve."

Khalid, realizing he couldn't beat Jason in a conventional exchange, switched tactics. His punches came from wild, unpredictable angles, his footwork becoming erratic to disrupt Jason's rhythm. For the first time, Jason faltered.

A sneaky uppercut grazed Jason's chin, snapping his head back. Khalid followed with a rapid combination, pushing Jason onto the ropes. The crowd gasped as Jason's guard wavered for a brief moment.

Jason's mind raced. Focus. Adapt.

He shifted his stance subtly, taking a half-step back to create distance. Khalid lunged in with a wild haymaker, but Jason had anticipated it. With lightning speed, Jason slipped the punch and countered with a devastating overhand right that sent Khalid sprawling.