Chapter 53: Chapter 53: Arrogance



The small hall was packed, every seat taken, and people standing in the aisles.

Unlike last time, when the first match had a sparse audience, today's event had drawn a much larger crowd.

Whether it was due to Damon's match or the growing popularity of Battle Xtreme, the result was the same - a buzzing, electric atmosphere that seemed to vibrate through every molecule of air.

On the table, Michael Bosley spoke through the broadcast, his voice clear and confident, carrying to wherever the show was being streamed. "Good afternoon, everyone," he said, his words accompanied by the sounf of equipment and the murmur of the crowd.

"After weeks of waiting, we're finally here - another show of Battle Xtreme. Last show, we had a spectacular card, and today isn't any different."

Michael's partner, Daniel Greene, smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "Indeed, as Michael said, today's card is good," he echoed, his voice smooth and rich. "And just like before, we're going to be opening this event with an interesting matchup."

Before entering the cage, Damon was thoroughly checked and patted down by the officials, ensuring a fair and safe fight.

As the music reached a crescendo, the announcer's voice boomed through the speakers, "Introducing Damon Cross!" The crowd erupted in cheers and applause, their voices echoing off the walls of the packed hall.

Damon stepped into the cage, his eyes scanning the sea of faces as he made his way to the center.

He took a deep breath, feeling the cool air fill his lungs, and tried to calm his nerves.

He knew that this fight was crucial, that losing would mean closing the door on the opportunity that had just opened for him.

As he bounced around the canvas, his feet making soft thudding sounds on the mat, Damon focused on his breathing.

He tried to clear his mind, to push aside the pressure and the doubts that crept in. He was ready for this, he had trained for this.

Damon, his eyes fixed on Mark, stretched out his hand, his fist clenched, offering a traditional glove touch.

But Mark, his expression unyielding, simply smirked and backed away, his eyes never leaving Damon's face.

The crowd, sensing a hint of animosity, let out a collective "ohhh", their anticipation growing.

The camera zoomed in on Mark's face, his smirk still plastered on his lips, his eyes gleaming with a hint of arrogance.

Damon, on the other hand, simply shrugged his shoulders, his expression neutral, and backed away to his corner, his eyes never leaving Mark's face.

The bell rang, its loud, metallic sound echoing through the hall, signaling the start of the fight. Damon, his eyes fixed intently on Mark, moved closer, his feet light on the canvas.

He adopted his Muay Thai stance, his left foot forward, his right foot back, his weight evenly distributed between both legs.

Damon glared at Mark, his eyes narrowing, his jaw clenched in concentration.

He moved closer, his hands up, his fists clenched, his elbows close to his body. The two fighters met in the center of the cage, circling each other, sizing each other up.

Damon scanned Mark's body, his eyes darting up and down, looking for an opening. He noticed Mark's leg foot was open, his weight shifted onto his back leg.

Damon saw his chance, he threw a low kick, aiming for the inside of Mark's leg.

The kick was swift, its impact loud, as Damon's foot connected with Mark's leg.

Mark grunted, his face contorting in pain, as he hopped away, his leg buckling slightly.

Damon quickly retreated, his hands still up, his eyes fixed on Mark, ready for his opponent's response.