The crowd cheered so loudly that it was hard to hear, not caring at all about Cellan's situation.
Their attention was on Damon, the fighter who had done something amazing at the end.
Damon walked toward the referee, his steps steady but his mind still partly on Cellan.
The referee gave him a reassuring nod and took hold of his wrist, ready for the announcement.
The announcer stepped forward, microphone in hand, as medics carefully moved Cellan out of the cage.
Damon caught a glimpse of his opponent beginning to stir, a small movement that brought a measure of relief to his chest.
The people who were commenting, who were sitting close to the cage, added to the excitement.
"That's the sport right there," one of them said, leaning toward the microphone. "Cellan Gustalam pushed forward, but Damon Cross proved tonight that he's got the skills, the timing, and the composure to compete with the best."
The second commentator added, "Absolutely. Let's not forget this was short notice. Damon didn't just win; he made a statement to the division. That knee was brutal, but pure precision."
As Damon stood in the center of the cage, his expression calm but focused, the crowd's chants grew louder.
This was his moment.
The announcer walked into the middle of the cage. His loud voice came through the microphone, drowning out the loud cheers.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he began, his words carrying the weight of the moment, "referee Ricky Smalls has called a stop to this contest at 2 minutes and 12 seconds into the second round, declaring the winner by knockout..."
To add drama, he stopped and let the tension build as the crowd erupted again, sending waves of energy through the small arena.
"...Damon Cross!"
The referee raised Damon's hand high into the air, and the crowd exploded with applause and cheers.
Damon stood tall, his face calm, but his chest rose with deep breaths as he took in the magnitude of the moment.
Victor and the rest of the team cheered from the sides. Their smiles and cheers showed how proud they were.
Victor gave him a firm nod, clapping a hand on Damon's shoulder. "Alright, let's head to the back. You've earned some rest."
Damon let out a sigh of relief as he felt the rush of energy slowly subside.
He could still hear the cheers of the crowd, and he couldn't deny how great it felt to be the center of their attention.
He wasn't just excited about the fight; he was also excited about the mood, the energy, and the sheer spectacle of it all.
As they made their way out of the cage, Damon glanced around at the fans still clapping and cheering, some even reaching out for high-fives.
He obliged a few, smiling as he walked toward the tunnel with his team.
'This is it. This is what it feels like to be at the center of attention, to have the crowd roaring your name.'
It was addicting, exhilarating, and everything he'd ever dreamed of. But as the tunnel swallowed them.
As they entered the back, Damon noticed a few fighters lingering near the hallway.
Some nodded at him in acknowledgment of his performance, and he nodded back, his face calm but inwardly savoring the respect.
"Man, I need a shower," Damon said, running a hand through his damp hair, his muscles still buzzing from the fight.
Victor, walking just ahead, glanced back with a faint smirk. "You do."
Damon raised an eyebrow, his lips quirking into a playful grin. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Victor shrugged, his tone casual but teasing. "It means you've got about 20 to 30 minutes before you need to clean up and head to the post-fight press conference. Get ready for a lot of questions."
Damon groaned, rolling his neck as they continued walking. "Can't I skip just this one? You know, first fight and all... maybe I get a pass?"
Victor chuckled, shaking his head. "Not a chance. Not after what you just did. Everyone's gonna want to hear from you."
Damon sighed, but deep down, he didn't mind.
The thought of facing the media was a small price to pay for a performance like that. "Fine," he said, cracking his knuckles with a grin. "Let's get it over with."