Cathy Williams hesitated for just a fraction of a second before raising her hand, meeting Shanazer with firm resolve.
"Good!" He exclaimed, "Let the fight begin!" Alex Graham's voice rang out, brimming with excitement. He wasted no time stepping away, making space for the inevitable clash.
The crowd erupted, their voices weaving into a frenzied hum of anticipation. Eyes shimmered with eagerness, watching closely—waiting to see who would strike first.
"Slava, who do you think will emerge victorious?" Will Verdis took over the commentary, his tone rich with curiosity.
"That's the question on everyone's mind," Slava mused, arms crossed. "But let's not waste time on predictions—let the battle itself give us the answer."
"I hear you, brother," Will Verdis chuckled, leaning into the commentary. "But who is Shanazer anyway?"
Slava Beit burst into laughter, his voice thick with amusement. He leaned closer to the mic. "Very little is known about her. But the fact that she's standing toe-to-toe with Cathy Williams?"
"That alone makes her someone to keep our eyes on." He paused for effect, then continued, "All we do know is that she is attending this very university." "And the man who just walked her into the arena? None other than Tairen Exon—the legend himself." His voice took on a dramatic edge. "Isn't that incredible?"
"I'm absolutely certain these two are related," Will jumped in. "Maybe he's the one who taught her martial arts?"
Slava's tone brimmed with excitement. "What can you expect from a legend? I have a superb feeling about this fight."
Will cast a glance at the fighters. "Then why haven't they engaged yet? The referee called it—it's been a full minute and a half."
"Neither wants to make the first move," Slava observed. "Very strategic, I'd say."
Inside the arena, Cathy Williams couldn't resist trying a new tactic to provoke Shanazer. Her voice dripped with venom as she sneered, "Today, I'll beat you to a pulp and send you to the grave to reunite with your poor, pathetic parents. I can only imagine that absurd little reunion."
What Cathy didn't know was that Shanazer had no memory of her parents. The taunt slid off her like water on stone, leaving her unshaken.
"If you're so confident, then come at me," Shanazer replied coolly, her tone laced with mockery. "From where I'm standing, you look like a scared little rat on a sinking pirate ship."
Cathy's face twisted with fury. Without a second thought, she lunged at Shanazer, her movements a blur of speed. She leaped into the air, aiming a devastating spade kick straight at her opponent.
The crowd collectively held their breath, their eyes glued to the unfolding drama. Some gaped in awe, mouths hanging open.
Just as the kick was about to connect, Shanazer twisted her body into a flawless backflip, her hands grazing the ground before she landed in a low, poised squat. The precision was breathtaking.
Gasps rippled through the audience.
"Wow!" someone exclaimed, breaking the stunned silence.
Owen Denis, now seated at the broadcast desk of Zenith Sports Network, chuckled into his mic. "Very gymnastic, I should say."
Maria Rosa Devlin, the seasoned commentator, leaned forward. "That was not just gymnastics—it was calculated excellence. Shanazer read Cathy's attack like a book and turned it into an opportunity."
Slava Beit nodded enthusiastically. "You have to admit, this fight is shaping up to be something special."
Cathy, breathing heavily, landed from her missed strike and straightened up, her eyes burning with frustration. That was supposed to land. How did Shanazer dodge with such ease?
Her fingers curled into fists. Fine. If precision wouldn't get her the upper hand, then raw power would.
With a sharp breath, she charged forward again—this time with relentless determination.
"Not bad, you filthy loser! Now take this!" Cathy Williams bellowed, her voice dripping with fury as she unleashed a relentless barrage of strikes.
The audience perched on the edge of their seats, breathless. This time, everyone believed Shanazer couldn't possibly go unscathed. The sheer speed, the ferocity—Cathy was a storm of motion, her attacks ceaseless.
Yet, Shanazer remains unshaken.
Blows came fast, precisely—but each one met a firm, calculated defense. No matter how vicious the attack, Shanazer's hands intercepted, redirecting each strike with almost eerie ease.
Cathy's expression darkened. Fine. It was time for her secret technique—the very thing that had secured her dominance on the martial arts circuit.
The realization struck the crowd all at once. That was it.
Seeing that her punches alone failed to break Shanazer's defenses, Cathy escalated. Kicks—sharp and punishing. Elbow strikes—precise and ruthless. Her energy surged, her movements doubled in power and speed. It was as if an ancient force had overtaken her, her attacks possessed by a force beyond rage.
Some spectators gave up trying to follow with their own eyes, switching instead to the massive screens, desperate to catch every movement, every strike in high-definition clarity.
Owen Denis leaned forward, his voice thick with disbelief. "How is this possible, Maria Rosa? Are you seeing what I'm seeing?"
Maria Rosa Devlin, for once, seemed speechless. Then, slowly, she nodded. "I see it, Owen. And I think Ventrander has just witnessed the rise of another martial arts legend."
"This is thrilling!" Owen Denis exclaimed, his voice thick with excitement.
"I initially thought this match wouldn't last this long. I'm left in awe."
Suddenly, the bell rang. The referee rushed onto the arena floor, signaling a pause in the fight.
Up in the VIP stands, Consmart frowned. "Why is Shanazer not hitting back?" His voice carried a mix of curiosity and concern.
Xander shook his head, eyes locked on the arena. "I have no idea."
"She's damn good," Consmart continued, mumbling under his breath. "She hasn't gone down—not even once, despite Cathy Williams unleashing everything on her." He turned slightly. "Aren't you worried about her?"
Xander exhaled slowly, then shook his head. "I guess I shouldn't be. She's taking care of herself." He hesitated, rubbing his chin. "Something in me tells me she's going to win."
Yet, despite his words, his expression betrayed uncertainty.
Meanwhile, in the fighter's corner, Shanazer sat across from Tairen Exon. He watched her carefully, noting the controlled rise and fall of her breath, the unwavering steadiness in her posture.
"Are you alright?" His voice was calm but edged
with quiet concern as he reached out, his fingertips grazing her shoulder.
From a few feet away, Anna observed the interaction, her expression unreadable. Who was this girl?