VISION GRID SYSTEM: THE COMEBACK OF RYOMA TAKEDA

Within moments, both WBO staff members return to the front of the room, each carrying a stack of sealed envelopes collected from the participating camps. They place them neatly on the long table atop the podium before stepping aside.

A low murmur drifts through the conference room as the officials quickly arrange the envelopes into a single pile.

Without unnecessary ceremony, the chairman reaches for the first envelope. He breaks the seal, unfolds the document inside, and scans it for a brief moment before looking up.

”Blackstone Boxing Promotions. The submitted bid is US$8,500,000.”

At Ryoma’s table, Kurogane and Sera instinctively exchange glances. Even the opening bid has already exceeded what most title fights would ever command.

Sergei lets out a quiet whistle beneath his breath. ”That’s a strong opening. Let’s just hope the market doesn’t climb past US$10 million.”

The next few envelopes do little to change the mood inside the room. One after another, the chairman announces bids ranging between US$7 million and US$8 million, differing only by a few hundred thousand dollars. It quickly becomes apparent that this is where most promoters believe the market truly lies.

Then another envelope is opened. ”Crownline Boxing. The submitted bid is US$4,250,000.”

A ripple of surprise spreads through the room. Several promoters glance toward Dominic Bowman, a few unable to hide faint, mocking smiles. For someone of Bowman’s stature, the figure looks almost embarrassingly low.

Sergei, however, sees something else entirely. ”That’s far too low for someone like him,” he murmurs. ”Unless... he never intended to win this from the beginning.”

Sera frowns. ”Then why would he even be here?”

Sergei gives a small shrug. ”Let’s watch a little longer.”

The chairman continues opening envelopes. Again, the bids settle comfortably between US$7 million and US$8 million.

Until then, another name draws the room’s attention. ”NSN Global Promotion. The submitted bid is US$3,500,000.”

This time, the silence feels different, because now, no one laughs.

Everyone in the room knows Jackson Rhodes and the financial strength behind NSN. A bid that low can only mean one of two things: either he has no intention of winning... or he’s simply here to make his presence known.

Jackson offers no explanation. He remains exactly as before, lounging comfortably in his chair with one arm draped across the backrest, wearing the relaxed smile of someone watching the show rather than participating in it.

The chairman reaches for the next envelope. ”Rivera Championship Promotions. The submitted bid is US$3,000,000.”

A few people glance toward Miguel Cabello’s table, though this time their expressions carry more understanding than surprise.

Everyone knows the promotion exists for one purpose alone: to represent Cabello’s side in today’s purse bid while Hugo Ramirez is still in jail.

The chairman opens another envelope. ”Mendes Global Sports Network. The submitted bid is US$4,000,000.”

Kurogane narrows his eyes before slowly leaning toward Ryoma. ”The people we’ve kept seeing together… For some reason, they’re all submitting unusually low bids.”

Ryoma gives a faint nod. ”I noticed. Now let’s see the last one.”

Another envelope is placed before the chairman. He breaks the seal, unfolds the document inside, and pauses for the briefest moment before reading it aloud.

”Orion Boxing Promotions. The submitted bid is US$15,000,000.”

A ripple of disbelief spreads through the conference room. Heads turn almost instinctively toward Alistair Vaughan, several promoters staring at him as though wondering whether they had heard the number correctly.

Even those who had remained composed throughout the proceedings can no longer hide their disbelief.

”Logan was right,” Sera says quietly. ”They’re working together. The others submitted deliberately low bids because their money was pooled into Vaughan’s offer.”

Kurogane slowly nods. ”That explains everything. Now all that’s left is Erzhanov. Let’s hope he didn’t come here with an even bigger number.”

The chairman continues opening envelopes. One bid comes in at US$7,300,000. The next at US$8,100,000. Another settles at US$7,900,000.

The market briefly returns to what everyone had expected before Vaughan shattered it. But then the chairman reaches another envelope, opens it, glances at the document inside, and reads aloud.

”Aurora Crown Boxing Promotions. The submitted bid is US$15,000,000.”

It’s the exact same figure as Vaughan. Promoters glance at one another, quietly wondering what would happen if the highest bid ended in a deadlock.

Several lean toward their colleagues, exchanging hurried whispers as they try to recall the WBO procedure for identical offers.

A few promoters still hold onto the possibility that someone might go even higher, though few truly believe it. Everyone in the room has a fairly good sense of one another’s financial limits.

One by one, the remaining bids are announced. None surpass the mark, until only a single envelope remains on the table.

The chairman picks it up. Around the conference room, conversations die away almost instinctively. Even Vaughan, Bowman, and Mendes find themselves glancing toward Ryoma.

The chairman opens the envelope and unfolds the document. His eyes move across the page. Then, for the first time that morning, he pauses.

He blinks once, lowers the paper slightly, then raises it again as if to make sure he hasn’t misread the figure, attracting a few puzzled glances across the room.

Clearing his throat, he looks back at the page. ”Ronin Fight Management. The submitted bid is US$15,000,001.”

For a moment, the conference room is left in stunned silence. Ronin Fight Management has surpassed both Vaughan and Erzhanov by the smallest possible margin. Just one dollar higher is all it takes to stand alone at the top of the market.

”...The audacity.”

”One dollar?”

”Has anyone ever seen something like this before?”

”It’s absurd.”

”Absurd... but perfectly legal.”

”Whoever came up with that deserves some credit.”

”Or a psychiatrist.”

A wave of animated murmurs quickly spreads through the conference room as conversations break out from table to table. Some promoters shake their heads in disbelief, while others lean toward their colleagues, quietly replaying the logic behind the final bid as though trying to convince themselves they have heard it correctly.

The chairman waits patiently for the room to settle before speaking once more.

”Ladies and gentlemen, with the highest submitted bid of US$15,000,001, the promotional rights for the WBO World Lightweight Championship contest are hereby awarded to Ronin Fight Management. Congratulations.”

Polite applause follows, though it is only comes from the officials. The chairman continues with the customary closing remarks, yet by then, very few people are truly listening.

Around the room, conversations have already resumed in hushed voices. Eyes drift repeatedly toward Ryoma’s table as promoters, managers, and advisers try to make sense of the most peculiar winning bid many of them have ever witnessed.

After all, US$15,000,001 wasn’t merely the highest offer. It was a number that seemed to suggest its owner had known, with impossible certainty, exactly where the market would stop.