The Strong One Wins
The strong one wins. Marius touched gloves and backed away. I thought he was retreating, but suddenly he exploded off the ground, head down in a charge, swinging a punch. No idiot takes a blind haymaker like that, so I fired off a backstep. Timing it perfectly as his fist whistled through empty air, I unleashed a check hook.
Crack! As he staggered, I drove a high kick into his head.
Thwack! It felt like there wasn't a single person left who couldn't fight at a basic level. Their strike defense instincts were too sharp for regular folks.
Marius raised his guard and backpedaled. I closed in deep and spun a back kick into his midsection.
Whoosh! He'd anticipated it, leaping back like he was jumping away. I figured he'd keep pressing forward, but he didn't. Was he planning to mix it up with strikes against me? Trying to control the distance? I circled with footwork and flicked out a jab. At the same time, a hook even Young-hoon could've dodged came flying. I ignored it and slammed a straight deep into him.
Smack! The straight nailed him square in the face. As he floundered, dazed, I looped a hook over his guard.
Snap! Marius was a hardcore wrestler. Had Brown somehow crippled his arms and legs to keep him from wrestling? He seemed to despise grapplers, so maybe he wouldn't hold back even against the #3 ranker.
I charged the wobbling Marius, and suddenly he switched levels. Classic wrestler's tackle—head tucked like he was driving it into the mat—as he barreled in. I snapped a knee, but he ate it with his already mangled face and kept coming.
Thud! For a split second, my whole body went limp, but I snapped back and hooked my right leg around his thigh. The tighter he gripped, the more explosive the power clamping my thigh became. Grip strength and muscle way beyond what I'd expected... Was this really just the power of full steroids?
He shoved me back to the fence, then rocked my base. I stomped my left foot into the fence to steady myself, pressed down on his head with my hand, and arched my hips back as far as I could. I wanted my right foot on the ground, but he wouldn't let go, desperate to dump me down. Blood dripped from Marius onto the canvas. I'd let my guard down because of his shitty striking, and now I was paying for it. Balancing on my left leg with just core strength, it was only a matter of time before I fell.
I pressed my hand on his neck and hammered straight-down punches.
Thump! Thump! The spot that swelled from the knee was torn open now—my thigh felt slick and wet. Friction dropping, he rubbed his forehead on my thigh to avoid vitals. "You crazy bastard..."
He didn't care about his face getting shredded; he buried it in my crotch and lifted me again. My legs flew up; I shot my hand to his side for an underhook. I wanted to roll out, but the clamp on my right leg was insane. Fully airborne now, any twist would cost me my balance—precarious as hell.
Tahar yelled from behind. "Use that fancy jiu-jitsu! Use what you showed us!"
Back when we trained with the wrestling partner, Tahar got curious about my jiu-jitsu level. I'd shown a technique from exactly this position. I didn't want to use it. But if I went down like this, I'd eat ground-and-pound... Having gotten complacent to reach this spot, I couldn't afford to get complacent again.
I stopped pressing his head and glued my upper body to his back. I twisted my right thigh— the one he was gripping—around his neck. Then I hooked my left knee into his side and climbed onto his back. Panicking, he tried to shake me off, so I clamped a headlock grip on his left thigh. Body fully sealed to his back, I extended my hips with core power as much as possible.
This perfectly locked technique is called the inverted triangle choke. Marius was already bearing my weight on his head. Now with it shifting to his core, he popped up to shake me loose. This move works best when it triggers that instinct to stand and extend the hips. It doesn't even need to go around the neck—leg locks like this can pop heads like watermelons otherwise.
"Grrrk..." I don't tap for submissions in jiu-jitsu. That lazy mindset won't joint-lock a champion. Fights are life-or-death anyway. I had to snap his neck to survive.
Gravity poured my weight into the locked legs, tightening the hold firmer by the second. He clawed at my legs, but even a strongman couldn't pry them off with arm strength. I squeezed harder, yanking his thigh in tight.
He finally dropped to his knees, flipped over, and went limp—out cold. No tap, so the ref slapped my side hard with his palm. I released, slipped out from under the fully extended Marius, and stood.
"Wooooah!!!" "Leon Becker! Leon Becker!"
I wanted to show striking in Korea. Etch why I'm the Korean Monster into their minds. I'd hidden my jiu-jitsu as much as possible, but better than showing me in trouble.
I spat out my mouthpiece and reached for the gun. Didn't draw it—just pointed at the crowd one by one with my left hand.
"Wooooooah!!!"
Marius woke quick, but orbital fracture and a nasty cut. Bleeding stopped, but the swelling around his eye looked rough. Still, his face seemed relieved. We shook hands and hugged.
"Didn't wanna use jiu-jitsu for real. You gave me no choice."
"You... grappler. You sneaky bastard..."
"Haha. Dad's a jiu-jitsu black belt instructor."
"Tough break. Try taking your own strikes. And you turned my balls to jelly for real."
"Sorry about that. You like girls, right?"
"Damn straight."
Blood still trickling from his nose, he wiped it roughly and bellowed a laugh. Ref declared the win; Marius exited the Octagon. New belt over my shoulder, John Logan hopped up like clockwork.
"You bastard... That inverted triangle was art. When'd you prep that one?!"
"I told you I started taekwondo before I could walk."
"...No way?"
"Dad's a jiu-jitsu black belt owner. He played with me in jiu-jitsu before I could walk. There's even a pic of him armbarring me with his fingers."
I heard Mom beat him senseless when I cried.
"No official belt for me, but Dad rolled with me. When he ran the gym full-time, he'd test new techniques on me—take 'em and give 'em."
"Early education in taekwondo and jiu-jitsu?"
"Only for opponents tough on striking. Never needed to show it till now. Everyone thought takedown defense was my weak spot. Truth is, I'm confident on the ground too."
I slapped the belt toward the crowd, grabbed the mic, and spat in Korean. "I promise you one thing."
"..."
"Until I retire, no one but me can handle this belt."
"Wooooah!!!"
I glanced around. People chanting my name nonstop. Spotted Dad in the guest seats and smiled.
"Oh, kinda kills the vibe. The merch we tossed out? Exchanging 'em for 5,000-won gift certificates on the way. 5,000 each, so if you spot any on the floor, grab 'em."
Repeated in English, handed the mic back to John Logan.
Changed in the locker room, headed to the presser. Marius sat there, simple first aid on what looked like a clean break. No disappointment in defeat.
"Real monster, huh? Monster. Ring name fits perfect—whoever coined it nailed it."
"Hahaha."
Good personality; chatting and laughing with reporters. Spotted me, waved. I bowed hello, hugged, sat.
Marius finished his thought. "Comon's defense was airtight—no way past it. Made me think he was stalling to drain my gas on purpose. With that defense, he'd handle ground easy too."
"..."
"Light Heavyweight? Bullshit. No one in Heavyweight takes him either."
Reporter raised hand for me.
"Seemed like you hid your jiu-jitsu. Why?"
English question, so English answer. "Dmitry might dodge a fight with me if he knew. But everyone went nuts for my striking anyway."
Another reporter. Serious face. "Grappling vs. striking—which is stronger?"
"Same question as for all martial arts."
"..."
"The strong one wins. If I grapple, grappling wins. If I strike standing, striking wins."
Wanted to say 1v1 grappling, groups striking. But don't voice strong opinions on specialties—gives ammo for attacks either way.
"Say wrestlers fight and get pissed. Finish with wrestling? Nah, palms or fists fly first."
"Boxers? Stick to boxing? Kicks or takedowns incoming."
"Strongest is strongest. WFC proves it."
Presser rolled on; Marius and I fielded questions.