"This match is going to be way too one-sided, isn't it?"
The spectators were clearly disappointed looking at Aslan. His body didn't suit the arena at all.
"He's the crown prince of a fallen kingdom though. Maybe there'll be something different about how he dies. Who knows? Maybe he'll struggle to avenge his homeland."
"Come on. You see that body? We'll be lucky if he doesn't just beg for his life."
"That could be fun too though. Look at his face. I bet there'd be plenty of women who'd enjoy seeing him cry."
"True, where else would you get to see a crown prince's tears?"
"Now that I think about it, the arena put together a good match for once. Bringing something this interesting to the youth division."
"Right. When else would we see a fallen kingdom's crown prince get beaten to death? That's got its own appeal."
"Bebo's a really cruel bastard though. I wonder if we'll even be able to recognize his face when the match is over."
All sorts of mocking comments burst out from the spectator stands.
The youth division matches were opening act concepts. Matches held to build excitement before the main event.
The arena arranged youth boxing matches for the opening and saved gladiator or fighting matches for the main event.
So opening matches usually didn't draw many spectators.
But today was different.
Word had spread that a fallen kingdom's crown prince was appearing, so quite a crowd had gathered.
***
Aslan scanned his opponent as he walked.
Height: about 172cm.
Weight: around 80kg.
In fighting sports weight classes, somewhere between middleweight and welterweight.
He probably hadn't cut weight or anything, so that would be his natural weight.
172cm and around 80 kilos was pretty ideal. If that was his natural weight, he could compete in featherweight or lightweight in actual fighting sports.
He wasn't at the level of muscle definition that modern fighters had. He had a decent amount of fat on him.
Still, it was a body that could reasonably call itself a gladiator.
In contrast, Aslan was about 179cm tall and weighed only around 60kg. You could see at a glance that he had a scrawny build.
'I could get finished in one shot if I'm not careful.'
A 20kg weight difference was an area that was hard to overcome even with technique. The fortunate thing was that the current match was a 'boxing' match.
If it had been a fighting match instead of boxing, Aslan would've had to be seriously nervous.
In matches where submissions, joint locks, and throws were all allowed, a 20kg weight difference was really hard to overcome.
'I wonder what level their technique is at?'
Boxing in this other world.
It was different from modern boxing in many ways.
First, they didn't wear gloves.
Gloves are protective gear for fists, but they also make the brain shake easily, leading to easier knockdowns.
Originally, shaking an opponent's brain with bare fists wasn't easy.
It was actually easier to hurt your fist hitting the hard skull. Even with gloves, hand bone fractures happen in fighting sports.
Now it went without saying, since they couldn't even wrap the common bandages around their fists. A match fought purely with bare fists.
His opponent Bebo confidently took the center of the arena.
Aslan thought he'd take a proper stance, but he didn't even do that.
It wasn't the modern fighting stance with one foot forward.
'No footwork then.'
A straight-on stance.
It wasn't like there were no martial arts that fought in that stance.
But there were almost no martial arts that utilized footwork in that kind of stance.
A stance with both feet in the same position made it hard to use footwork. Since footwork was difficult, weight shifting was hard too.
Aslan realized that boxing matches in this world might be at the level of close-range slugfests.
But he couldn't jump to conclusions. His opponent might not have learned proper boxing.
Or maybe he thought Aslan wasn't even worth considering as an opponent.
"No hitting below the belly. Keep attacking each other until someone says to stop. Got it?"
After saying that, the referee raised his whip. Then he struck the ground hard and shouted loudly.
"Jacques!"
The word 'Jacques' made him laugh.
In the world he used to live in, 'Jacques' meant supplanter.
But 'Jacques' in this world wasn't that word.
It meant to fight a fair one-on-one duel. Even if you had to stake your life on it.
***
Thunk!
As soon as the match started, Bebo swung his arms randomly. Aslan crouched and raised his guard to block the attack.
He blocked it, but the feeling was strange. It wasn't a punch trajectory.
He'd swung with his palm, not his fist. But the referee didn't intervene at all.
'Don't tell me "boxing" just means you can only hit the upper body?'
They didn't even teach him the rules properly!
Aslan felt slightly irritated. Nobody thought he'd go out there and fight properly, so they probably didn't bother telling him.
Bebo's indiscriminate attacks continued. He swung both hands like he was slapping faces, then drove his fist into the abdomen.
Aslan applied force at exactly the right timing to minimize the impact. He also didn't forget to slip his body back slightly.
Abdominal attacks could have their impact greatly reduced if you timed it right.
The method of reducing impact by increasing abdominal pressure through breathing was exactly that.
It was a method used by martial arts schools that practiced abdominal conditioning. It looked surprisingly simple, but with mastery, you could really reduce impact significantly.
Plus the technique of slightly deflecting attacks backward.
It was subtle enough that even veteran fighters wouldn't easily notice.
The match was one-sided. Bebo was beating on him one-sidedly, and Aslan focused only on defense with his guard raised high.
Then boos started pouring from the spectator stands.
To unknowing eyes, it looked like Aslan was just getting beaten up.
"Fight properly!"
"A guy calling himself crown prince can't even throw one punch!"
"The crown prince title is wasted on you!"
"At least fight properly!"
"Take this and fight properly!"
Boos poured from the spectator stands. Along with that, coins flew into the arena.
1-slan coins.
The lowest currency unit in the Empire.
The only thing spectators could throw into the arena was money. When matches were frustrating, spectators would sometimes deliberately throw money to hit the fighters.
That's what was happening now. Several coins flew and hit Aslan's head and body. Still, the referee paid no attention.
That was mostly how gladiator slaves were treated.
It wasn't just gladiator slaves.
Even gladiators who were free citizens would get hit with coins if they showed frustrating matches.
Aslan didn't waver since he'd fully expected this from what the odd-eyed girl had told him.
What he needed now was to impressively take down his opponent. To leave a strong impression, he still had to hide his claws.
Aslan calmly deflected his opponent's attacks while taking hits.
The important point here was that he was taking hits on purpose.
Not avoiding but taking them.
That way it would look like damage was accumulating.
After finishing these calculations, he very slowly began to break down his opponent.
***
Whoosh!
Bebo was still swinging big. He was full of confidence that one good hit would finish it.
But that one good hit was only if it connected properly.
Since Aslan was reading all the attacks, there was no way they'd connect properly.
No matter how unorthodox the attacks, he could read them all if he just watched properly. Attacks without deceptive movements were that easy to counter.
Aslan was a boy with no conditioning whatsoever, but the consciousness inside him was a reincarnated person who'd been through every kind of battle. That's why he wasn't afraid at all.
Whoosh!
He pretended to take attacks while guarding and deflecting. Each time they clashed, he slyly struck Bebo's stomach with his palm.
Using his palm made it more subtle. If it had been a fist, it could be seen as an attack, but a palm just looked like struggling to break free or pushing away to escape.
The interesting thing about this arena was that it was very spacious. It was wider than modern boxing rings, and wider than mixed martial arts octagons. Actually, it couldn't really be compared to either.
And being spacious was likely to work as a factor for overcoming weight class differences.
In matches with weight class differences, what's devastating for the smaller fighter is getting cornered.
If you get pressured with a wall behind you, the smaller fighter can't properly display their skills.
But if the arena was this wide, you didn't have to worry much about getting cornered.
This arena was spacious enough that you could run around.
The arena was probably this wide because it hosted not just fighting matches, but gladiator matches and team battles too.
But there were also downsides.
Specifically, that grabbing was allowed.
In modern boxing, it's impossible to grab your opponent and hit them.
But here it was possible. You could grab the back of the neck, and if the opponent had hair, you could grab their head. You could also grab an arm, hold it in place, and hit them.
When Aslan wouldn't go down easily, Bebo started using these methods too.
'I'm way stronger.'
He gripped Aslan's left wrist tightly and attacked with his other hand.
Thunk! Thunk! The sounds echoed loudly.
Aslan knew how to deflect attacks even when grabbed.
It was amazing movement, as if showing that technique could surpass physicality.
But unfortunately, nobody watching the match realized the significance of Aslan's movements.
If your arm is grabbed and you can't pull back, deflect sideways.
If that doesn't work, there's also the method of actually moving forward to meet the punch.
Aslan chuckled at Bebo's dirty boxing and immediately used a joint manipulation technique to shake off Bebo's hand.
Bebo, who didn't understand martial arts principles, couldn't figure out why his grip had been broken.
After easily shaking off Bebo, Aslan took his stance again. Still the stance with his guard raised high.
A stance you could call turtle-like.
To Bebo's eyes, it looked like he was saying 'your attacks are still scary.'
That was actually his intention.
Plus he even staggered, so how perfect a target must he look?
'Your attacks are scary and I feel like I'm about to fall.'
He was appealing plenty without saying it in words.
So Bebo had no choice but to go in. He tried attacking again.
Not knowing he was walking into a swamp.