Oh, how Tre'Yan had learned after their last bout. He wasn't the eager kid, challenging the undefeated champion anymore. Dreams and ambitions of grandeur, of which he ultimately achieved. No, Tre'Yan was taking it slow, waiting for Dyayun to make the first move.

Let him wait.

His hand continued to move back and forth, as if dancing in the air - awaiting the moment to strike. The speed of his hand increased ever so slightly, noticeable to any boxer with eyes that took in the whole picture. 

Dyayun inched ever closer, watching the Orthodox stance of Tre'Yan, a stance used by boxers the world and universe over - the style that could counter the unorthodox style that had come to rival those of tradition. Brawling, as it were, was unorthodox and was made unpredictable because of it. It had no real guard, but because of that his power and reach were extended - allowing for hits to come from unexpected angles.

It was all for naught, however, as he knew Tre'Yan would see through such deceits. 

Let him. 

Let him watch the arm that was steadily looking to land a blow, not to finish the match - no, Tre'Yan would have to feel the full effect of their previous match before Dyayun would allow it to end so fast. 

No, the hit would not only be hard, but aimed to set up the next phase. Sekki. 

Tre'Yan, however, probably thought Dyayun was going to be brash. No, not anymore, his revenge had been years in the making, he could afford to be calculating with his vengeance. He continued to get closer, edging closer to the range of Tre'Yan. 

The dead crowd was silent, eerily so, watching what would surely be cataclysmic storm of blows that rocked each competitor.