Marcus emerged wearing a black robe with a silver Crownline emblem across the back. The crowd recognized him immediately. Some spectators stood. Others raised signs bearing his name. A group near the lower section began chanting.
“MAR-CUS! MAR-CUS! MAR-CUS!”
Marcus walked steadily toward the ring.
He did not raise his arms every few steps.
He did not stop to perform for the cameras.
He acknowledged the crowd with a small nod and continued forward.
Althea noticed the difference.
Raymond leaned toward her.
“He looks different.”
“He does.”
“Less interested in being admired.”
“More interested in what he's doing.”
Marcus reached the ring and climbed through the ropes.
He removed his robe and handed it to a member of his team.
Then he turned toward the audience.
His eyes moved across the lower rows.
He found Ben first.
The young fighter stood beside Elena's assistant, both hands clasped in front of him.
Marcus gave him a quick nod.
Ben returned it.
Then Marcus found Raymond.
Raymond lifted a hand.
Marcus smiled.
Finally, he saw Althea.
For a second, his expression changed.
Not dramatically.
He did not wave or point.
He simply looked at her, then nodded once.
Althea returned the gesture.
It was enough.
The referee called both fighters to the center.
The arena quieted.
Daniel Reyes stood opposite Marcus, his shoulders loose, his breathing controlled.
The referee reviewed the rules.
He reminded them to obey his commands, protect themselves at all times, and maintain sportsmanship.
Then he asked whether they had any questions.
Neither fighter did.
They touched gloves.
Reyes said something too quiet for the crowd to hear.
Marcus nodded.
Then both men stepped backward.
The referee looked toward the timekeeper.
The bell rang.
The Distance Between Two Men
Daniel Reyes began cautiously.
He moved along the edge of the center circle, keeping his shoulders relaxed and his hands high. His lead foot shifted lightly, testing the space between them.
Marcus stayed near the center.
He did not rush.
He did not attempt to establish dominance with a dramatic opening combination.
He watched Reyes's shoulders and feet.
Reyes threw a jab.
Marcus blocked it with his right glove.
Reyes stepped to his left.
Marcus adjusted.
A second jab came toward Marcus's forehead.
He moved his head slightly and let it pass.
The crowd responded when Marcus landed a clean counter to the body.
It was not a spectacular shot, but it connected.
Reyes stepped away.
Marcus did not chase him.
From the corner, Elena called out.
“Good. Stay there.”
Marcus kept his eyes on his opponent.
Reyes tried again.
This time he threw a jab followed by a right hand.
Marcus slipped the first punch and caught the second on his guard.
He returned a short body shot.
Then he moved away at an angle.
Reyes followed, but Marcus had already changed position.
The exchange lasted only a few seconds.
Still, it revealed something important.
Marcus was not trying to make the fight happen according to his preferred rhythm.
He was observing.
He was allowing Reyes to show him what kind of fight he wanted.
That was different from the old Marcus.
The old Marcus would have treated every retreat as an insult. He would have chased the opponent, thrown harder, and tried to force a reaction.
Tonight, he allowed the distance to remain.
The audience began calling his name.
Marcus did not look toward them.
Reyes moved in again.
A quick jab touched Marcus's guard.
Marcus responded with a right hand that narrowly missed.
Reyes stepped back.
The bell sounded.
Both men returned to their corners.
Marcus sat on the stool.
Elena removed his mouthguard briefly so he could drink water.
“How do you feel?”
“Good.”
“What did you see?”
“He wants me to follow him.”
“Why?”
“He's trying to make me reach.”
Elena nodded.
“Good. Don't give him that.”
Marcus looked across the ring.
Reyes was listening to his coach, who was speaking calmly and pointing toward the center of the canvas.
Elena leaned closer.
“Don't confuse a quiet round with an easy round. He's collecting information too.”
“I know.”
“Keep watching his feet.”
Marcus nodded.
Across the ring, Reyes's coach gave him a towel.
The challenger looked composed.
The first round had revealed little.
But Marcus had not wasted energy.
And against a fighter like Daniel Reyes, that mattered.
The First Mistake
Reyes increased the pace.
He began cutting off the ring instead of following Marcus in straight lines. His steps became shorter and more deliberate.
He moved Marcus toward the ropes.
Marcus shifted left.
Reyes followed.
Marcus changed direction.
Reyes adjusted again.
For several exchanges, Marcus managed to keep the distance comfortable.
Then he made a small mistake.
He planted too heavily on his front foot.
It was only a fraction of a second.
But Reyes saw it.
He threw a straight right hand.
The punch landed cleanly.
Marcus's head moved sharply to the side.
The crowd roared.
Marcus stepped backward.
The old instinct arrived immediately.
It was familiar.
Anger first.