They arrived at the backstage prep room, the one that led directly to the tunnel and the walkout.
It was a large, bustling space filled with staff mbers and a handful of people important enough to gain access behind the scenes.
His team stood by him, a close-knit group of people who were there for him even though things were under control.
One of the staff approached, clipboard in hand, and gave Damon a nod. "Okay, you're up next. As always, when you hear your music, you're good to go. Good luck."
Damon rolled his shoulders and took a deep breath as he replied, "Yes."
He didn't need to say anything; the ti was over for words. His team mbers quickly looked at each other.
As the seconds went by, the roar of the crowd got closer and louder. Damon could feel it in every part of his body that the ti had co.
The tunnel awaited.
The beat started, Lose Yourself.
It was the sa song Damon walked out to in The Supre Fighter final. But this ti, it felt different.
Back then, he was nervous, the weight of the mont heavy on him. Now, he felt calm and confident.
He believed fully that by the end of the night, his hand would be raised.
Damon and his team didn't wait any longer.
Victor led the way, his steps steady, while the rest of the team followed close behind.
Svetlana walked beside Damon, her eyes filled with quiet support.
The tunnel stretched out in front of them, the lights dim, the crowd's cheers growing louder with each step.
They moved together, the music pounding in the background.
It was ti.
Showti.
He walked through the tube with a little swagger, just enough to show that he was chill but on task.
His expression was calm, but his eyes were sharp, locked in on the mont ahead.
The crowd went wild with cheers as he ca out of the hallway and into the arena. The energy hit him like a wave and made the air spark.
Damon paused for a mont, holding his team back as he stood at the edge of the walkway.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, the sound of the crowd surrounding him.
Then he opened them, steady and sure, and began walking again.
He wasn't sure why he stopped, it just felt right.
He looked around as he walked, taking in the sea of fans.
The arena was packed, wall to wall, with people on their feet.
He'd heard the comntators ntion it earlier, this was a sold-out crowd.
There were cheers and chants from the fans as Damon walked to the cage.
So people held up signs that said his na or things like "Cross KO Coming Up." His team walked behind him, united and focused, as the cara followed his every move.
As Damon walked on stage, Jas Nix and Damien Korvier talked at the comntary table.
"There he is, Damon Cross," Nix said. "He's back in the spotlight after that incredible co-main event performance last ti out. Seven fights, seven finishes. This guy's been nothing short of phenonal."
Korvier nodded, watching Damon on the screen. "What's impressive about Damon is how quickly he's adapted to these big stages. He's not just winning, he's dominating. And now, on his second straight main card appearance, he's looking to prove he's not just a rising star. He's a serious contender."
Nix added, "And let's not forget, he's facing Calvin Oland tonight, a fighter known for dragging people into deep waters."
Damon walked through the tunnel, glancing back at his team as the roar of the crowd echoed around him.
Victor reached out, ruffling Damon's hair with a grin before nodding at him.
Svetlana quickly hugged him, her arms tight for just a mont before letting go.
Damon nodded at each of them, silently taking in their support before turning toward the official.
He approached the official, who would perform the final check.
Damon pulled off his shirt, revealing his refined, athletic fra, and tossed it aside without a second thought.
The official gestured for him to step closer. "Arms out," the man said.
Damon raised his arms wide as the official began patting him down, checking his gloves and gear.
"Mouthguard," the official said.
Damon opened his mouth slightly, revealing the dark mouthguard snugly in place.
"Cup," the official continued.
Damon dropped his arms and gave a quick pat to his crotch.
The official nodded in approval before grabbing the Vaseline and applying it carefully to Damon's face, ensuring his skin wouldn't catch during the fight.
Once finished, the official stepped back and nodded. "Good luck."
Damon returned the nod, his focus sharp, and walked toward the cage.
When he got to the steps, he stopped for a mont before getting down on all fours and carefully climbing them.
His moves were slow and deliberate.
Once inside, he stood up, taking a deep breath as he soaked in the energy of the packed arena.
Damon began strolling around the octagon, his eyes scanning the crowd briefly before settling on his corner.
The fight was monts away, and he was ready.
Damon stood in the center of the octagon, his gaze fixed on the tunnel where his opponent would erge.
The crowd's noise was a constant sound in the background, but his focus was locked.
He kept his eyes on the entrance, waiting.
Glancing back over his shoulder, he saw his team near his corner.
Victor and the others were chatting, pointing at different parts of the cage, likely discussing strategy or adjustnts.
It wasn't long before the music hit. The unmistakable beat signaled Calvin Oland's arrival.
Damon turned his attention back to the tunnel as Calvin stepped into view, his trademark swagger and grin on full display.
The crowd's reaction was full blown cheers, maybe se booes, but they were drowned out, you were even lucky to hear so.
Damon's eyes narrowed, watching every step his opponent took.
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