NOVEL NEXT Chapter 791: A Shift in Control
The horn echoed, breaking apart the clash, and the fighters retreated to their corners.
Damon had seen enough to know who carried the edge.
Chase Dunham had shown flashes of danger, those quick bursts of unpredictable offense that forced Zulu to adjust, but it was Zulu's pressure and awkward, grinding rhythm that had dictated the majority of the round.
His looping punches, ugly but effective, and the way he crowded space with constant level changes and clinch pressure had steadily worn on Chase.
Zulu sat down heavy on his stool, his chest rising and falling in steady rhythm.
His coach worked on a cut near his brow, dabbing Vaseline, while another offered water.
He looked restless, nodding at everything but eager to get back out. He thrived in chaos, and his style didn't require polish, just persistence.
Across the cage, Chase leaned against the fence, his chest heaving harder.
The flashy entries, the spin, the sudden shifts, had all drained him quicker than he intended.
He took deep sips of water while his corner worked on his shoulders, rubbing life back into them.
His eyes flicked to Zulu across the cage, focused but carrying a hint of frustration.
Damon, seated quietly, crossed his arms and studied.
He'd seen both fighters up close in sparring and warmups before, but the fight stripped away pretense.
Chase was talented, fast, and dangerous when fresh. But Zulu was proving the harder man to push back.
Damon noted it the same way he studied any opponent, mentally circling the detail, Zulu's awkward rhythm was shutting down Chase's creativity.
On the outside of the cage, Ivan leaned into his coaching role.
Unlike Damon, who let his assistant coaches handle details in the corners, Ivan's voice cut through every second.
He knelt close, speaking directly into his fighters' ears, giving both men commands between breaths.
To a casual eye, it looked strange, he had two fighters in one match, and yet he poured himself equally into each side, working the stool, the towel, the talk.
The seconds cleared the cage, and Damon leaned back slightly, his expression unreadable.
Round two was about to begin, and he knew the next five minutes would either expose Chase's deception for what it was or prove whether Zulu could be dragged into deep waters without losing himself in the storm.
The second round began with neither man showing hesitation.
Zulu marched forward in his usual reckless, lunging style, his hands low but his feet darting in unpredictable angles, almost like a wild man chasing prey.
He threw a wide, looping right hand that whistled past Chase's head.
Instead of resetting, Zulu barreled forward with a flying knee, his chest colliding into Chase's guard.
Chase stumbled back a step, caught off guard by the sheer chaos of it, but immediately spun off the fence and snapped a stiff jab into Zulu's cheek.
Zulu grinned, as if the sting only pushed him harder.
He hurled himself into another combination, an awkward right followed by a left hook that landed partly on Chase's ear.
Chase absorbed it but slipped low, wrapping Zulu's hips and shooting for a takedown.
Zulu sprawled hard, planting his legs wide and hammering down elbows to Chase's shoulders.
Chase held on, adjusted, and instead of forcing the shot, rolled into a sit-out and came back up with a sneaky uppercut that cracked Zulu's chin on the break.
Zulu's head snapped back, but he didn't retreat. He pressed forward again, relentless.
He swung his arms wide, hammering down punches from strange angles.
Chase covered high, then exploded with a spinning back fist, but Zulu ducked under it and clattered into him with a body lock.
With raw strength, Zulu drove him across the cage and slammed him against the fence, lifting for a takedown of his own.
Chase dug his underhooks, leaning wide to stay upright, but Zulu surprised him by releasing and throwing a wild elbow over the top that clipped the temple.
Chase's knees buckled for an instant, but his composure saved him.
He shot low again, wrapped the waist, and this time completed the double-leg, driving Zulu into the mat.
The thud echoed, and Chase quickly climbed into half guard.
He dropped a sharp elbow, then another, slicing through Zulu's defenses. Zulu squirmed, rolled to his side, and threw hammerfists off his back.
They weren't clean, but they forced Chase to adjust.
Chase transitioned beautifully, sliding into side control.
He isolated an arm, threatening a kimura, but Zulu refused to give it.
Instead, Zulu bucked wildly, exploding with sheer energy, rolling Chase off-balance and scrambling back to his feet.
His chest heaved, but his eyes burned with that same unhinged determination.
Back on their feet, the pace didn't slow.
Zulu came forward with another storm of punches, one right hand smashing into Chase's jaw, forcing him to stumble back.
Chase recovered instantly, feinting high and digging a vicious kick to the body that folded Zulu for a second.
He followed with a sharp right cross that landed flush, but Zulu still swung back, snarling as he pressed in close and forced another clinch.
Inside the clinch, Chase kneed the body, sharp and deliberate.
Zulu answered with dirty boxing, shoving his forehead into Chase's chin and landing short uppercuts to the ribs.
The fight became a grinding battle of wills, both men refusing to concede position.
Chase tried to disengage with a trip, but Zulu widened his stance and shoved back, breaking free with a wild right hook that grazed Chase across the cheek.
As the seconds ticked away, the round escalated again.
Chase switched gears, darting in with a sharp three-punch combination, jab, cross, left hook, that snapped Zulu's head side to side.
Chase felt the snap of his right hand connecting clean on Zulu's chin, the kind of shot that sent shock through his knuckles.
Zulu's legs buckled for a split second, and Chase's eyes lit up.
He didn't hesitate. He surged forward, swarming the South African with a barrage of shots.
Hooks from both sides, uppercuts slipping between Zulu's desperate guard, each punch thudded against bone and muscle, driving him backward.