Coconut Creek, Florida.
The sun was already high, but inside American Peak Team's training center, the air was thick with heat, sweat, and pressure.
Joren Edlen stood in the center of the mat, shirtless and already drenched. His gloves were taped tight, mouthguard hanging from his jaw as he bounced in place.
His coach, a lean, sharp-eyed man with years of wrestling and fight experience, held the pads. He tapped the left one twice.
"Jab. Cross. Hook. Power hook. Double it up."
Joren nodded and snapped into motion. The first jab cracked, fast and clean. Cross followed, then a hook. Another hook. All with the same clean rhythm that had won him fifteen straight.
"Again!" the coach barked.
He went again. Faster this time. The sweat flew from his skin with each turn of his hips. His footwork stayed tight, circling to the left, cutting back to the right.
The coach dropped one pad low and extended the other.
"Break the angle. Power shot. Then level change."
