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墨書 Inktalez
Mark stood beside the sandbag, his cold gaze fixed on the two opponents in the ring. A quick sweep of his eyes revealed that this match was unfair from the very beginning.
The Hulk loomed like a moving fortress, his massive limbs and bulging muscles exuding an oppressive aura. His broad chest and iron-like arms made him resemble a beast clad in steel skin. Mark estimated that the Hulk clearly belonged to the super heavyweight category, weighing at least 110 kilograms, and each punch he threw could shake the ring.
On the other side stood a young man who, despite his agility, appeared too slender in both stature and presence. Although he wasn't short, he was clearly a light heavyweight at best, perhaps even a middleweight. His muscles were lean and tight, suited for a speed-based fighting style, but compared to the Hulk, he seemed to be worlds apart in terms of strength and durability.
Mark coldly assessed the match in his mind. This wasn't the first time he had witnessed such a lopsided confrontation; the disparity in weight classes meant that these fighters were not even on the same level. The Hulk's punches were heavy enough that any hit could be fatal, while the young man's frame clearly couldn't withstand too many of those blows. His speed might allow him to evade for a short time, but one mistake could lead to a devastating blow from the Hulk.
"Things look grim," Mark thought to himself. He understood what this match signified; it wasn't a fair contest but rather a preordained slaughter.
He frowned slightly, maintaining his calm demeanor while feeling a flicker of impatience within. He had seen this kind of spectacle many times before and could almost predict every move that would follow. The crowd might be hoping for an exciting turnaround, but Mark knew that the young man's chances were nearly zero.
However, his gaze lingered on the young man for a moment longer. He noticed those eyes filled with determination and defiance; even when faced with an almost insurmountable opponent, there was no hint of retreat in his gaze. This stirred something within Mark, a fleeting moment that reminded him of distant memories filled with familiar stubbornness and resolve.
Mark looked away, lowering his head with a faint, cold smile. He had no intention of intervening in this match; to him, this struggle was entirely unrelated to himself. He merely wondered—how long could this kid hold out?
The atmosphere in the ring began to heat up as the young man faced off against the Hulk in a clash of contrasting styles. The Hulk moved like a tank, each advance carrying an unstoppable force with heavy and steady steps. He swung his massive fists, trying to corner the young man; each punch sliced through the air with a sound that seemed capable of tearing it apart.
The young man appeared remarkably agile, moving across the ring with light-footed grace as if dancing. Whenever the Hulk's fists came crashing down, he swiftly sidestepped like a slippery fish evading capture. Using his nimbleness and speed, he maintained distance from the Hulk, denying him any opportunity to close in. His focus was sharp; though beads of sweat began to form on his forehead, his movements remained fluid without any hesitation.
He wasn't just evading; he was using these evasive maneuvers to find opportunities for counterattacks. Each time the Hulk's strike missed its mark, the young man quickly capitalized on his reach advantage to deliver several jabs. While his punches lacked power, they landed precisely on the Hulk's face and upper body. These jabs were like a snake's tongue—constantly probing and teasing; though they didn't hurt the Hulk much, they successfully disrupted his rhythm and tested their distance.
The audience below watched intently but clearly grew dissatisfied with this stalemate. They began to stir restlessly; they didn't appreciate such cautious probing—they craved more intense collisions and bloody confrontations.
"Charge! Hulk, smash him!" someone shouted from the crowd, their voice filled with impatience and anticipation.
"Hurry up! What are you all waiting for?" another spectator chimed in, stamping their feet in frustration. The crowd began to stir, their voices rising in a cacophony, eager for a more direct and intense confrontation.
Hulk heard the shouts, his brow furrowing slightly as a flicker of annoyance crossed his eyes. He was well aware that his relentless attacks were falling short, which only added to his growing irritation. His gaze fixed on the young man before him, who was skillfully dodging his strikes like a provoked beast. Hulk swung his fists again, trying to exert greater force to corner his opponent and leave him with nowhere to escape.
The young man continued to evade with agility, his feet dancing lightly on the ground as he focused intently on finding Hulk's weaknesses. Each jab he threw might not inflict real damage on Hulk, but it allowed him to gradually gauge his opponent's rhythm and reaction speed. He understood that his only chance lay in using speed and technique to wear down Hulk, while avoiding the giant's powerful fists at all costs.
Mark stood off to the side, calmly observing the clash in the ring. The crowd's cheers were incessant, but he remained detached from their frenzy. A glimmer of contemplation crossed his eyes as he watched the young man dodge and seek opportunities; he felt a faint interest in the resilience of this young fighter.
"Maybe... he still has a chance," Mark murmured softly, a faint smile playing at the corners of his mouth. He could see that the young man's skill and agility were making this seemingly one-sided match far more competitive than it appeared. He was waiting for that pivotal moment that could potentially turn the tide.
Hulk stood in the center of the ring, silently observing the constantly moving young man with a cold and focused expression. The shouts and cheers from the audience grew louder, as if urging this confrontation to reach its climax. Hulk felt the pressure from all around; he knew that what these people wanted was not a stalemate but an overwhelming display of dominance.
Taking a deep breath, he relaxed his shoulders slightly before lowering his head to study the young man's movements. The lean figure continued to weave and dodge with nimble footwork, fists poised for counterattacks. Yet Hulk's gaze grew increasingly calm, resembling a predator waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
Suddenly, Hulk moved. His legs bent slightly as he slid forward, his upper body swaying side to side in a pendulum-like breakthrough motion. His movements were surprisingly swift for someone of his massive size, akin to an agile tank barreling toward its target.
The young man's reaction was quick; he swiftly assessed Hulk's direction and attempted to push him back with a jab. However, Hulk's swaying trajectory expertly avoided the young man's attack range, allowing his fist to graze Hulk's shoulder without hindering this beastly man’s advance.
In mere seconds, Hulk closed in on the young man, nearly pinning him against the corner of the ring. A flicker of surprise flashed in the young man's eyes, but he immediately raised his fists to guard his face tightly, adopting a defensive stance. He knew there was no escape; he could only rely on defense to withstand Hulk's onslaught.
A smirk crept onto Hulk's face as he reveled in this moment of dominance. Instead of targeting the young man's head directly, he aimed for his abdomen instead. With knees slightly bent and weight shifting downward, Hulk unleashed a powerful right hook aimed straight at the young man's liver.
A loud "thud!" echoed as the young man's fist struck its target, producing a crisp and resonant sound. His body bent slightly from the impact, his abdominal muscles twitching in response to the intense pain, a grimace of suffering etched on his face. His legs wobbled under the force, but he gritted his teeth, determined to stay on his feet and not fall.
Hulk straightened up, a cold smile playing on his lips as he looked at his opponent, his eyes gleaming with the pride of a hunter who had successfully captured his prey. He didn’t rush into his next attack; instead, he took a half step back, as if waiting for his opponent's reaction or perhaps to give the audience a moment to build up the tension.
The crowd surrounding the ring erupted into a frenzy, their cheers and whistles ringing out like a deafening wave.
"Nice one! Hulk, great job!"
"Come on, take him down!"
The shouts from the crowd surged toward the ring like a tsunami, while the young man inside it clenched his jaw and struggled to straighten up. His gaze was sharp as he fixed it on Hulk, showing no sign of retreat. Despite the searing pain in his abdomen that nearly stole his breath away, his fists remained tightly clenched, ready to face the next wave of brutal attacks.
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