NOVEL NEXT Chapter 798: Saved by the Bell
The round pressed on, sweat now dripping from both men as their pace refused to slow.
Max shook his shoulders loose, circling, his lead leg already red and tender from Kenji's persistent kicks.
Every step carried a small limp, but he masked it behind aggression, biting down on the mouthpiece and firing punches in flurries.
Kenji stayed calm, his guard tight, his eyes fixed not on Max's face but on his chest and shoulders, reading every twitch for a tell.
He snapped another jab, crisp and sharp, and followed with a low kick that smacked the same battered calf.
Max winced, but his answer came fast, a heavy hook to the body that slammed against Kenji's ribs, forcing a grunt from the Japanese fighter.
They collided again at range, Max pumping a one-two that brushed Kenji's guard, then leapt forward with a left hook.
Kenji rolled under, countering with a slick right straight that cracked Max's nose. Blood sprayed, red across the canvas.
Max shook it off instantly, grinning through it, and surged forward. He faked a jab, dipped his shoulders, then uncorked a vicious right overhand.
The punch landed flush across Kenji's temple, snapping his head sideways. Kenji staggered, his balance faltering for the first time.
Max smelled blood. He charged, unleashing a barrage, jab, cross, hook, uppercut, every punch aimed to break through the shell.
Kenji covered up tight, absorbing what he could, but Max slipped to the side and ripped a hook around the guard, smashing Kenji's jaw.
Kenji's legs wobbled. He shot desperately for a takedown, lowering his level and diving at Max's hips.
But Max sprawled instantly, stuffing it with sheer force. He shoved Kenji's head down, and as Kenji clung to the legs, Max hammered down elbows to the temple, brutal and sharp.
Kenji let go and tried to stand, but Max met him with another right hand. The glove smashed clean across his chin, and Kenji dropped to his knees.
The cage erupted with the sound of teammates pounding on the panels. Damon, arms folded outside, narrowed his eyes. Max had Kenji hurt bad.
Kenji tried again, his instincts pushing him to shoot.
He dove for the single leg, but Max sidestepped, sprawling heavy.
With Kenji's head still low, Max pulled back and drove a knee up the middle.
It cracked into Kenji's forehead, snapping his posture upright before he crumbled back down.
Kenji's hands pawed at the mat, legs shaky, his body trying to recover. Max loomed over him, ready to rain hammerfists, adrenaline coursing.
Max raised his fists, ready to drop bombs on the staggered Kenji, his eyes burning with the scent of the finish.
He sprawled low to stuff another desperate shot, pressed his weight down, and wound up his right hand.
But in that scramble, Kenji surprised him. His arm coiled around Max's extended limb, hooking it tight.
In a blink, Kenji fell back and dragged Max with him, snapping his legs around Max's shoulder.
It wasn't clean at first, his hips weren't tight, his angle wasn't sharp, but it was enough to stop Max's hammerfist from coming down.
Max cursed under his breath, trying to yank free.
He knew what it was: an armbar. Sloppy at first, more of a survival grip than a finishing threat, but Kenji adjusted.
His body twisted, his legs kicked higher across Max's chest, and suddenly the angle sharpened. The hold began to tighten.
Max gritted his teeth. The pain jolted through his arm, white-hot at the elbow joint.
He flexed, trying to stack Kenji, trying to slam him down, but Kenji clung on with everything he had.
His legs squeezed tighter, his hips thrust up, and the pressure bent Max's arm at a sick angle.
For a split second, it looked like the joint might pop.
Max roared, muscles straining, veins bulging in his neck as he fought it. He planted his knees, postured high, trying to rip himself free.
Every tug only made Kenji adjust, cinching it tighter, his eyes squeezed shut in desperation, his jaw clenched.
Seconds felt like minutes. The pain seared down Max's arm, his face twisted but he refused to tap. He wasn't giving this up.
The horn blared.
The referee immediately dived in, waving Kenji off. Max ripped his arm free the second he felt the release, staggering back on one knee, clutching his arm close to his chest.
Kenji rolled to the side, chest heaving, still clinging to his knees like he had drained every last drop of energy just to survive.
Max flexed his arm once, twice, grimacing, but he was still whole. Barely. He had been seconds from disaster.
Damon exhaled outside the cage, his arms still folded. That wasn't just a scare, that was nearly a stolen finish.
The round was over.
Damon wiped his face with both hands, exhaling sharply. That round had been a full rollercoaster.
He had to admit, these two were the most exciting fighters to watch in the house so far.
They were stubborn, resourceful, and fearless.
Every time one of them looked finished, the other found a way to flip it back around.
When Max nearly dropped Kenji and swarmed, Damon thought it was over.
But the moment Kenji latched onto that armbar, Damon couldn't help but feel a flicker of pride.
It was something he drilled into all of them.
If you get dropped, don't freeze. Don't turtle up and wait to get finished. Do something.
Either get up, tie the man up, or stop the first incoming strike, anything that buys you survival. Kenji had listened, and in that chaos, he had executed it.
Sure, the armbar wasn't perfect. It wasn't locked tight enough to finish outright. But it was a weapon, a warning, and a way to stall the storm.
And the fact that he turned near-disaster into survival with seconds left? Damon respected that.
From the outside, he didn't cheer or clap, but he gave a small nod to himself. Both men were showing grit in different ways, and that made him proud as a coach.
The horn had saved Max, but the fight was still alive.