Even with that small shift in tempo, the fight still falls back into a familiar shape. Kenta finds himself driven to the ropes again, his back nearing the strands as Dela Cruz steps in with the same forward insistence.
The distance closes quickly, and once it does, the champion resumes his work without hesitation. The punches come in sequence, tight and direct.
Left, right, left, each one snapping straight through the center, forcing Kenta to bring his guard up and keep it there.
Dug. Dug. Dug.
A lead hook follows, short and controlled, then a right hand behind it, heavier, driving into the arms.
Dug. DUGH.
Another set comes immediately after, flowing into the next without any visible pause. Left, right, left again, the rhythm steady, as if it can be sustained indefinitely.
"It's relentless from Dela Cruz. He's not giving Moriyama a second to breathe here."
"And look at the consistency. Same pressure, same forward drive. He just keeps stacking those punches."
