The cage door slammed shut with a loud clang, echoing through the room like a final call to battle.
Damon and Logan stood across from each other, separated by only a few feet of canvas, the steel fencing surrounding them in every direction.
Referee Hank Binn, known for his calm demeanor and sharp eye, stood between the fighters.
His presence alone commanded attention, his reputation for controlling even the most chaotic fights preceding him.
He raised his hand, his deep voice cutting through the ambient noise. "Alright, fighters, listen up. You both know the rules. Protect yourself at all times, follow my instructions at all times. If I tell you to stop, you stop. Touch gloves now if you want."
Damon's eyes locked onto Logan's, neither fighter even considering the offer of touching gloves. Their hands remained by their sides, their focus unshakable.
Hank gave a small nod, not surprised in the least. He stepped back, giving them space. "Alright, let's keep this clean. Let's fight."
Outside the cage, the coaches were poised, sitting on the edge of their seats, ready to shout tips and instructions.
Whittier sat with his arms crossed, a sharp look of focus on his face.
His wrestling coach sat beside him, leaning forward, already tense and ready to yell out guidance.
Across the cage, Balim Chemasov and his team sat equally ready, with Balim's usual calm intensity radiating from him.
His striking coach sat next to him, hands on his knees, already leaning into the fight.
The tension inside and outside the cage was electric.
Both coaches knew that as soon as the fight began, it would be a battle not only of skill but of strategy, yelling tips and corrections in the heat of the moment could be the difference between victory and defeat.
Both fighters took their stance, eyes locked. There was no turning back now.
The bell rang, sharp and piercing, signaling the start of the fight.
Damon stepped forward cautiously, his hands up, already thinking of his strategy.
He wanted to take it slow, test the waters first, establish his distance.
His game plan, as Whittier had drilled into him, was to keep Logan at bay with his low kicks, controlling the range and dictating the pace.
Logan growled in frustration, immediately closing the gap once more, firing off a flurry of punches.
Damon slipped most of them, but a sharp left hook clipped him on the side of the jaw, snapping his head back slightly.
Feeling the sting, Damon knew he had to adjust quickly.
Logan wasn't going to let him dictate the pace, so he needed to make Logan pay for his reckless aggression.
Logan came forward again, throwing a wild right hook, but this time Damon stepped back just enough to avoid it.
As Logan overcommitted, Damon snapped out a crisp teep kick, his foot sinking into Logan's midsection, forcing him to pause for a moment.
Damon took advantage of the brief window, firing off another hard low kick, this one landing flush on the same leg he had targeted earlier.
Logan winced but pushed through the pain, still charging forward like a man possessed.
Logan swung another heavy hook, but Damon ducked under it, slipping to the outside.
He countered immediately with a sharp right cross, followed by a left hook that grazed Logan's temple.
Logan staggered for a brief second, but his toughness showed as he quickly regained his footing and lunged forward again.
Damon's legs moved quickly, circling around the cage, keeping his distance.
He peppered Logan with quick jabs, trying to slow the onslaught. Logan, though, was in full attack mode.
He lunged forward, catching Damon with a stiff jab that snapped his head back.
Then, without warning, Logan shot in again, this time faster, wrapping his arms around Damon's waist and driving him into the cage.
Damon's back hit the fence with a dull thud. Logan was relentless, pressing his weight into Damon as he attempted to drag him to the mat.
Damon's hands immediately shot down to control Logan's wrists, fighting the takedown with everything he had.
His feet shuffled along the cage, trying to maintain his balance.