---
Round One
The bell rang.
Ashan stepped forward, gloves up, chin tucked.
Caleb Monroe wasted no time. tight guard, bouncing on the balls of his feet, cutting angles.
First ten seconds?
Ashan barely touched him.
Caleb's footwork was slick. His head movement subtle. He feinted, jabbed, dipped low, fired a sneaky left hook to the body.
Thud.
Ashan took it. Guard didn't cover low.
He backed up, circling.
"Fast."
Caleb wasn't heavy-handed, but he was experienced.
Knew where to punch. Knew when to throw.
Ashan stayed composed, firing back with jabs, fast ones, but Caleb parried them like clockwork. Nothing landed clean.
The round slipped by, and Ashan landed maybe three solid shots, none of them meaningful.
"He's not stronger. He's not tougher. But he's sharp."
The bell rang.
Ashan walked back to the corner breathing steady.
He wasn't hurt.
But he was behind.
---
Round Two
The second bell hit different.
Ashan stepped out with clearer eyes.
Nerves were gone.
Caleb came in with a step-jab. Ashan slipped it.
POP!
First jab of Ashan's landed clean, right between the gloves.
POP!
Another. Then-
BOOM!
The right cross came behind it like thunder.
Caleb stumbled back, stunned.
"Got him."
Ashan moved forward, not recklessly, but precisely.
Jab. Jab. Cross.
Caleb covered up, circled.
Ashan pivoted smoothly, waited. The opening came again.
Jab to the head.
Cross to the jaw.
CRACK!
Caleb dropped to one knee.
The ref jumped in.
"One! Two! Three..."
Caleb blinked, nodded, stood up at eight. Gloves raised. He was dazed, but not done.
The bell saved him.
Ashan walked to his corner. Breathing controlled. Eyes locked forward.
"It's my fight now."
---
Round Three
Ashan moved like water now.
His jab stung. His cross landed with weight.
Caleb's defense was slipping, timing off, hands dropping just a little late.
Midway through the round, Ashan dipped a jab, slid to the side, and
CRACK!
A right cross landed square on the chin.
Caleb's legs buckled.
THUMP.
Face-first into the canvas.
The ref didn't bother counting. He waved it off.
"Knockout! Winner: Ashan Korr!"
Ashan exhaled once.
No smile.
No raised fists.
He just stared at the mat.
"It's really over."
He walked to the neutral corner and leaned against the ropes. Heart pounding. Adrenaline still high.
That was it.
His first real fight.
And he'd won.
---
Project Dragon, Day 272
"Round one sucked. He was slick." "Round two? I made it mine." "Round three: KO. Not even a lucky one." "Still shaky up close. But my jab and cross carried me."
"Jerry better answer his damn phone."