Na continued staring at the ground, at the opponent who still wasn't getting back up. Saliva spilled from the man's mouth in thin streaks that glistened under the cage lights. Na felt a weight settle in the pit of his stomach, an uncomfortable tightness as he replayed the moment again and again in his mind.
Where had it gone wrong?
His opponent had been performing perfectly. The pattern was clear, the dodges were consistent, and Na had purposely telegraphed every strike so the man could continue selling the fight. And yet, somehow, at the critical moment, the opponent had taken the hit directly instead of dodging. Na clenched his jaw.
He ducked every other time. Why did he step into that one? Why take the punch on purpose?
He was mentally kicking himself, frustrated not only with the situation but with himself for not predicting this strange shift.
And he wasn't the only one feeling that way.
