As Damon held the elixir, he paused, the weight of it feeling oddly familiar in his hand.
The last time he had held one of these, he was back in Stockton, staring at himself in the mirror, trying to make sense of everything.
He turned around now, glancing at the scar running from his shoulder to his lower back, a constant reminder of his past.
He smiled wryly. No one in training had asked him about it.
They didn't need to. Everyone here had their scars, literal or not.
Maybe not all of them had been beaten into their skin by their fathers like his had, but every fighter had a story.
Some of their stories might even be worse than his.
As he looked at his reflection, his thoughts shifted.
As he grew, matured, and stood taller, he noticed his Japanese descent showing through more and more.
It wasn't something people commented on often, but it was there, a part of him he didn't mind.
He shook his head, pulling himself out of the spiral of thoughts.
There was no point in stalling any longer.
Damon uncapped the elixir and, with one swift motion, gulped down the entire thing.
The familiar warmth spread through his body, a subtle but immediate effect.
He could already feel the beginning of the healing process working its way through his muscles and bones.
Damon took a deep breath and opened the system interface, something he hadn't done in a long time.
As the screen appeared before him, he glanced at the information displayed:
[
NAME: Damon Cross
NICKNAME: N/A
AGE: 21
WEIGHT CLASS: Middleweight
TITLE:
STATS
Physical: D+
Mentality: B+
Condition: Exhaustion
]
He frowned, confused. "What the hell?" Damon muttered to himself. The last time he checked, the system gave him a lot more details than this. Now it seemed too basic, like a stripped-down version of the status he was used to.
Then, at the bottom of the screen, he noticed a button: [Show Full Information].
Without hesitation, he pressed it.
Suddenly, the screen expanded, revealing a much more detailed breakdown:
[
Damon's eyes widened as he took in the full scope of his stats. It was a lot more than he had expected.
Looking back at his height, that "+" symbol made him pause. Delayed growth? Was he still growing?
He couldn't help but feel a bit weird about it. At 6'2", he was already towering over most people, and the fact that both his Irish and Japanese heritage weren't known for producing tall people made it stranger.
Maybe he was only going to grow an inch or two more, but even that seemed unusual.
Then again, his bastard of a father had been tall as hell, so maybe that's where the extra height was coming from.
Your story source m_v lem|p-yr
His eyes flicked down to his fighting style stats next.
Seeing the proficiency levels in Muay Thai, Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu, and Wrestling gave him a sense of progress.
He liked this system feature(proficiency), it was showing not just individual moves, but his overall mastery in each martial art.
While there hadn't been any major changes in his fighting abilities, he knew from looking at his physical and mental stats that he had made real progress since he first started.
He let out a breath, about to close the interface, when something made him pause again.
200+ ranked in world ranking.
"Wait, what the hell?" he muttered, staring at it again. 200+? Holy shit.
He'd known he was doing well, but seeing that number made everything real.
He couldn't help but let out a low whistle.
It was surreal. Just two years ago, he was a homeless kid scraping by, and now he was ranked somewhere in the top 200 fighters in the world.
He grinned, feeling the weight of that accomplishment sink in.
Damon stepped out of the bathroom, running a hand over his clean-shaven face. At 21, he still couldn't grow much facial hair, but he shrugged it off. He quickly changed into his clothes and made his way out.
As he entered the locker room, his teammates were gathered, chatting and exchanging congratulations.
They smiled and nodded as Damon approached, clearly still happy from his knockout victory.
Moments later, Whittier entered, his usual calm but commanding presence filling the room.
He clapped his hands together to get everyone's attention.
"A big congratulations to Damon for securing the win," Whittier began, his eyes scanning the group. "Because of that, we now have the power to choose the next matchup."
He motioned toward Damon, using him as an example to encourage the others. "Damon executed the game plan perfectly. He kept his cool, stayed focused, and didn't let Logan get inside his head. That's what we need from all of you in your fights."
Whittier continued, "If you listen, train smart, and fight with precision like Damon did, we'll keep control in this competition. Remember, it's not just about strength or speed, it's about having the right mindset and sticking to the plan. Damon's fight is proof of that."
The team nodded, clearly inspired by both Damon's performance and Whittier's words.
The atmosphere was positive, but everyone knew the pressure was still on. The next fight was just around the corner, and everyone was hungry for their shot.
Damon had set the tone for the team, his dominant victory a clear example of what needed to be done.
All they had to do now was win and keep the momentum going.
Whittier clapped his hands together, his voice carrying through the room. "Alright, now go rest up for the day. Tomorrow, I'll take you all out to wind down. Enjoy yourselves, but remember, after that, it's back to training."
Damon exchanged glances with his teammates, feeling relief and excitement.
A day off was well-earned, but they all knew the real grind was far from over.
The fights would only get tougher, and with each victory, the pressure to maintain their streak would grow.
Still, a break would give them time to recharge before diving back into the chaos.