"Ohhh!!!" Damon, Whittier, and the coaches all reacted in unison as the fighter on the screen landed a devastating head kick.
Damon grinned, shaking his head in amazement. "That's a crazy match, man. The lightweight division is packed."
The door opened and a staff member leaned in, drawing everyone's attention as the excitement in the room persisted. "Mr. Cross, your match is after the next one, so please get ready."
Damon inhaled deeply as he felt his adrenaline start to rise.
It was time to get ready.
.
.
.
Damon finished preparing, slipping into his dark green tight shorts with the "UFA" logo emblazoned on a black strap.
He ran his hand through his hair, the final stretch of calm before the storm.
Standing in the corridor with Whittier and the assistant coaches.
There was no more waiting.
It was time.
Suddenly, music blared through the arena, and Damon glanced up at the screen on the corridor wall.
It wasn't his time yet, Brian was walking out, flanked by his The Supreme Fighter coaches.
The crowd erupted, and Damon could feel the intensity building.
Soon, it would be his turn.
From the screen, Damon could hear the familiar voices of the commentary team: Demien Korvier, James Nix, and Jim Logan.
The first to speak was James Nix, who sounded enthusiastic. "Here comes Brian Walker, ladies and gentlemen, one of the top finalists of The Supreme Fighter. He's been dominant all season long."
Demien Korvier added, "Yeah, he's shown incredible wrestling and striking. I think his cardio is going to be a huge factor tonight."
Jim Logan chimed in with his usual enthusiasm, "No doubt, and let's not forget, he's coming in with a chip on his shoulder after everything that happened with his brother and Damon Cross. This is personal."
"Let me see the mouthguard." Damon opened his mouth, showing the guard in place.
"Good to go," the official nodded, then asked to check the protective cup.
Damon patted and looked at him. "Cup's secure."
Finally, the official grabbed a small dab of Vaseline and applied it to Damon's face, focusing on his cheekbones and eyebrows to help prevent cuts.
"You're all set. Go ahead," the official said, stepping back.
Feeling the pressure of the moment return to his shoulders, Damon nodded and refocused before making his way into the cage and into the lights.
With deliberate steps, he approached the cage, his gaze fixed on Brian's figure inside.
Damon stopped as he got closer to the stairway, absorbing the electric energy surrounding him.
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The lights, the roaring crowd, none of it mattered anymore.
He stood still, at the edge of everything, and drew in the deepest breath he had taken all night.
In that instant, it all vanished, every nerve, every flicker of doubt.
The weight of the crowd's eyes fell away like dead leaves in the wind.
Fear had no place here.
All that remained was ice in his veins, a chilly, calculating serenity that took hold of him.
His mind sharpened, crystal clear.
He wasn't walking into a fight; he was walking into control.
Damon stepped into the cage, his movements smooth, slow, like a predator stepping into his domain.
He met Brian's eyes, and for a brief second, his lips curled into a smirk.
Brian wasn't locked in the cage with him.
Brian was trapped in there with Damon.