[@King Cosmos]

How was he blocking with such consistency? He definitely didn't have the fight training to make a proper read at this distance...

[color=82ca9d][i]Could it be his Inherent Engine? Can he see the incoming burst?[/i][/color]

What was more, the baseball player was steadily giving ground as he subtly shifted the bat beneath the storm, widening the gap between them as opposed to it wilting beneath Kasemchai's constant advance. He supposed the boy would run out of room eventually, but this arrangement was not ideal. Classes would begin again before they finished if he meant to back him all the way against a wall from the center of the courtyard.

... Then he stopped, bat braced before him in time with the slight change in angle of Kasemchai's jab but receiving no impact. There was none of that minute compression as the impact traveled through the metal and into the baseball player's arms— and then there was.

Then, his opponent retreated once more, and the Thai fighter understood.

[color=82ca9d][i]He has a read on the edge of my range. He knows the maximum distance I can strike from now. For that matter, so do I. I'd never gotten the opportunity before in previous fights— remember this distance between bodies. That is as far as I can strike.

It's obvious now that he's got something to make for his lack training in keeping up with my strikes. Every time I've switched levels ort broken a pattern, he's made the correct move to block with that bat. Some I've managed to slip through, it clearly isn't perfect, but that also rules out prediction— he's reacting to something.[/i][/color]

He needed an opportunity. Something big to burst in on, this measured advance is too easy for him to back out of— there!

His opponent, even in the face of his aching leg, made a great leap backward, readying another swing and taking a singular moment to aim.

The Thai saw the stance, saw the motion, and threw himself to the side as the crack of the bat heralded another incoming projectile— and winced as the edge of the orb, moving at an impossible double speed, grazed his side with the force of a heavyweight's punch. If it were moving at the velocity it had before, he would have been well clear— did that slugger have this much power left up his sleeve even after his leg had been attacked?

[color=82ca9d][i]Grit your teeth, this is your opening.[/i][/color]

Edges of his jaw tightening, the Thai's conditioning and adrenaline bolstered his fortitude twofold, and he surged forward once his feet caught traction after the sidestep. Assume maybe a second to rechamber after that swing. Assume maybe another to readjust position for the new angle Kasemchai had taken— moving towards his opponent's right. Two, maybe three seconds to get into true striking range was a tall ask when running at someone with a bat during the best of times, and Kasemchai was not unmarked himself.

But he could not let himself be killed at range by this man's endless bag of tricks with a baseball bat.

He would cover this damned distance.

Kasemchai ran. Gone was his shuffling, steady, compact footwork, that which was too slow to use without a ring to pen his opponent into. He ran for all he was worth, long strides chewing up the ground before him as he all but sprinted towards the baseball player, bold plan taking shape in mind.

If that unusually high-percentage blocking rate was based off of reactions rather than predictions, then he knew how to tear those apart— feinting. Show one strike to land another. As the opponent reacts to that which does not come, they leave themselves open, confused, and second-guessing their reads. Much more vulnerable to follow-ups from either a different angle, or different timing.

One stride. Two. Three.

He had built up the momentum well now, and had definitely entered maximum range... but the end goal was to cover the entirety of this space. He had an option for that. Low percentage in the extreme normally, but perhaps with his power, some of the unsafe factors became safe.

Four. Five. Closing in.

[color=82ca9d][i]Do it now, and let the force carry you the rest of the distance. Don't let him have the chance to hit you out of the air with that bat![/i][/color]

He launched himself up from the ground, springing off his front leg as the rear swung upward, adding height and an extra boost in vertical momentum.

[color=82ca9d][i]How will his eyes see through a lie?[/i][/color]

That motion had placed his left leg in front, leaving his right chambered and ready to deliver a flying knee of crushing force with all of the energy from his weight, his charge, concentrated onto a single point. It was perhaps the most powerful blow in all of Muay Thai, an art famous for devastating knee strikes from the clinch alone— let alone one with room to build momentum over so much distance into.

All he needed to do was wrench that right leg upwards, and all of that bone-rattling power would be brought to bear right on the level of the baseball player's forehead. A shot that could knock out anyone if it landed clean. A huge attack, that traded a huge windup for huge force.

He reared his back midair, as though committed with all of his being to the knee strike and ready to throw his hip into it for a little extra juice—

[color=82ca9d][i]You should feel proud for making me use such a gambit.[/i][/color]

And wrenched his right elbow downward towards the top of his opponent's hatted skull, as though to split a log with an axe. All of his forward motion could compensate for any power disparity between the two strikes— even if the first would have been overwhelmingly strong, the second simply needed to be strong [i]enough[/i].

And if fate was willing, this would carry him close enough to get his [i]hands[/i] on him.