CHAPTER 60: CHAPTER 60: SEMIFINAL - JAVIER RESTREPO VS CHRIS MARTINEZ II

Chris stepped out from the blue corner and tilted his head toward Javier, a cold smile settling behind his mouthguard.

"I hope you’re ready, orphan."

The words carried just loud enough for red to hear. Miguel’s jaw tightened. Danny edged forward a half step. Javier’s expression did not change.

His eyes hardened like steel. His breathing stayed slow and controlled. He gave no answer and no reaction. Nothing for Chris to feed on.

The bell rang sharp and clear.

Javier took center ring at once and showed the jab high to bait the reach. Chris twitched but did not commit. He had learned from Round 1 and kept a compact guard.

Javier had learned too.

He touched a jab to the chest to test reactions. Chris parried with the left but kept the right high. Smart adjustment. Javier sent a straight right toward the headgear; Chris slipped cleanly and snapped a counter jab into Javier’s forehead.

The shot popped Javier’s head back slightly. Chris was still dangerous and still skilled. This would not be easy.

[ JAB SKILL +0.1 ] [ CROSS SKILL +0.1 ]

[ TECHNIQUE +0.1 ] [ RING IQ +0.1 ]

"Good. Stay patient," Miguel called from the corner.

Chris pressed forward, double jab and then a right hand. The first jab caught glove, the second grazed headgear; Javier slipped the right completely and answered with a left hook to the ribs.

The body shot thudded through the protector. Chris grunted behind the mouthguard and tied up at once, wrapping Javier’s shoulders to smother the follow‑up.

"Break! Box!" The referee’s command split them.

They separated cleanly. Chris’s breathing sounded heavier now as the body work began to show.

[ HOOK SKILL +0.1 ] [ FOOTWORK +0.1 ] [ AGILITY +0.1 ]

Javier feinted high and stepped around the lead foot. As Chris turned, Javier dug a shovel hook deeper into the ribs. Chris winced and lifted his elbows, guard rising.

As Javier left the pocket, Chris popped a quick uppercut inside, punching up between the arms and into the chest protector. The jolt ran through Javier’s frame.

"There you go!" came from blue. "More of that."

Javier reset and fired a jab–cross. The jab split the guard; the cross followed and snapped Chris’s head back.

[ UPPERCUT SKILL +0.1 ] [ DEFENSE +0.1 ]

[ TECHNIQUE +0.1 ]

"Feet first. Make him reach," Miguel said, voice steady.

From blue, the trainer barked, "Double up. Don’t let him set."

Chris threw a hard jab–cross with bad intentions. Javier slipped the jab but the cross caught the side of his headgear and rattled his skull inside the padding. Vision blurred for a heartbeat.

He answered at once with a right uppercut under the chin through the headgear and lifted Chris onto his toes. The legs wobbled, then found the floor.

Both men were marking each other now. This was a real fight between skilled opponents.

The referee edged closer and watched. "Box."

Javier showed the high jab again, the same picture from Round 1. Chris had been burned by it before, but instinct won the moment. His left reached across his body to parry and extended too far.

There it was: the gap in his defense.

Javier drew the jab back and drove a straight right through the lane Chris opened. The punch travelled down the center line and met the headgear flush. Sweat snapped into the lights.

[ RING IQ +0.1 ]

Chris stumbled backward on unsteady legs and flung a wild left hook that cut past Javier’s ducking head.

"Stay on him," Danny called from ringside.

Javier stepped with control. He touched a jab to the forehead, shifted left, and placed a right hand to the solar plexus. Air rushed from Chris’s lungs in a gasp.

Chris shelled high to protect the head. He was hurt and slower now.

Javier saw the tell again: the left hand twitching, ready to reach across. Muscle memory overrode thought.

[ CROSS SKILL +0.1 ] [ TECHNIQUE +0.1 ]

In one smooth sequence, Javier fainted high with the jab. Chris’s hand reached on instinct. Javier pulled the feint and sent the right straight through the gap with full commitment.

The cross landed perfectly on the headgear. Chris’s legs buckled. He stumbled back and dropped to one knee near the ropes, gloves braced on the canvas.

The referee stepped in with a protective sweep of the arm and marched him a count.

"One... two... three... four... five... six... seven... eight."

Chris rose on unsteady feet and swayed. The referee wiped the gloves and searched his eyes.

"You okay to continue?"

Chris nodded, balance still thin. Blue shouted encouragement and worry at the same time.

"Box."

Javier advanced without rushing. He touched a jab high to raise the guard, shifted, and drove a right hand deep to the body. The shot thudded just below the chest protector.

Chris folded at the waist and reached for a clinch. Javier was already circling to his right.

Chris turned to follow, movements sluggish. The left hand started to reach again, the same habit that had cost him all night.

Javier saw it in slow motion. He showed the high jab one last time. Chris’s hand crossed his body on pure instinct and opened the lane.

The finishing right travelled straight and true and met the headgear with precise force. Training, technique, and controlled anger focused into one clean punch.

Chris’s eyes rolled back behind the bars. His legs gave out and folded as if the strings had been cut. He fell forward and hit the canvas.

The referee did not count. He dove toward the fallen fighter and waved it off at once.

"No count. Fight’s over. Doctor."

[ MISSION COMPLETE ]

Objective 1: Land 10 clean jabs in Round 1 — Achieved

Objective 2: Win by knockout — Achieved

Reward Granted: +50 Stat Points

The referee pointed Javier to a neutral corner. Javier went at once, breath steady despite the surge. His eyes stayed on blue until the doctor reached Chris.

This was what knockout power looked like in amateur boxing: clean technique amplifying natural ability.

Silence settled while the doctor checked pupils and reflexes. Blue crowded close, concern replacing earlier confidence.

After seconds that felt longer, Chris’s eyes fluttered. He sat up with help, confused but alert.

"What happened?" His voice came thick but clear.

"You got caught clean. Fight’s over," his trainer said.

A collective breath eased out of the room. The doctor helped him to the stool and kept checking.

Miguel slipped through the ropes with a towel over his shoulder, pride and relief in his face. Danny came next with a grin he could not hide. Tommy climbed in last, careful with his ribs.

Miguel cupped Javier’s headgear and held his eyes. "Perfect setup. You read him and executed. Championship work." He tapped the right glove once.

Danny bumped gloves and shook his head. "That right was beautiful. Straight down the pipe. Perfect timing."

Tommy hooked an arm around Javier’s shoulders. "Surgical. You broke him down and finished clean. Textbook." He squeezed and let go. "We fix mine Monday. I know what I did wrong."

Vicente stood at Javier’s shoulder, seen by no one else. "That was the difference between fighting angry and fighting with purpose. You channelled it into technique. That is what champions do."

Javier gave a small nod.

A soft pulse touched the edge of his vision.

[ REWARD BANK ]

+50 Stat Points available

[ NEW ACHIEVEMENT UNLOCKED ]

First Knockout Victory

When the doctor cleared him, Chris stood under his own power and walked to center. Respect sat in his eyes when they met.

They touched gloves once. Chris nodded, acknowledgment without words.

The announcer stepped forward with the card.

"Ladies and gentlemen, this was a Novice Welterweight semifinal. At one minute and nineteen seconds of Round Two, the referee stops the contest. The winner, by RSC, out of the red corner... Javier Restrepo."

Gleason’s answered with a wave of cheers. Even parts of blue applauded the clean boxing.

The referee raised Javier’s hand. He kept the celebration small and professional. He looked to blue again and gave a short nod. Chris returned it.

Miguel guided them toward red, mind already on the next step. "Medical check, then paperwork. Ten minutes to cool down."

Danny shouldered the bag, grin fixed. "Finals. One more fight."

Tommy walked alongside. "Golden Gloves final. From the group home to the championship."

By the apron, small clusters called congratulations. Javier tapped a few hands and dropped to the floor.

The glow faded at the edge of his sight as they headed for the inspector’s table. He drew a long breath and let it go slow.

The work sat where it should, not too high and not too heavy. Honest effort answered by honest results.