He thought about it like this:
In a wild exchange, everyone's eyes track the obvious, head shots, big movements, flashy strikes.
But with this?
He could throw a combination upstairs, and while the opponent's guard lifted, one body shot could sneak in like a ghost.
And by the time they realized they'd been hit, their liver would already be shutting down.
They'd fold before they understood why.
Like a phantom punch had stolen their soul.
He rubbed his jaw, the smile turning into something colder.
He'd seen flashes of this in his career, those moments where a fighter gets hit and their body reacts before their brain does.
But now he'd have a tool for it.
Something that could end fights clean, brutal, and sudden.
He flexed his fingers again, imagining it already.
One-two high, slip the third to the body, and before they even feel the sting–
Down they go.
Lights out.
And no one would be sure what happened until they watched it back in slow motion.
