In the VIP section, the world-level fighters lean forward in their seats, each reading the ring differently.
Celeb Mercer, WBC champion, cocky as ever, lets a low, almost growling murmur escape. His eyes narrow, a mixture of respect and threat.
"This kid… he's something else."
Hatred and admiration twist together in his gaze, like a predator sizing up another predator.
On the other section, WBA champion Aleksandr Volkov sits composed, Markovic at his side. Their eyes flick between Ryoma and Thanid with cold calculation.
"Too sharp… too precise. Not a fight you want to improvise," Volkov murmurs, eyes narrowing.
"Sorry to say it, but he's a risky target for you right now," Markovic adds, his tone calm but edged with caution, every word carrying the weight of careful calculation.
Miguel Cabello swallows hard, chest tight. His fingers grip the railing as he watches. A flicker of fear crosses his expression, tempered by awe.
