Damon was locked into camp again.
This ti, the focus wasn't on Enton.
It was on the man taking Enton's place in the middleweight matchup.
Shenil Ardigon.
Another fighter from the Dagestani mountains. The region had produced monster after monster for over a decade, and Shenil was no different. His highlights were short, violent, and efficient. Damon watched each clip twice.
Five professional fights.
Five wins.
Five finishes.
All TKO or KO.
A clean record, and not padded either. Every opponent had been solid. None stood a chance once Shenil got his rhythm. He pressured hard, punched harder, and carried himself like he belonged in championship conversations.
Damon could see the raw talent imdiately.
But he also saw the inexperience.
It wasn't arrogance talking, he knew when he was speaking fact.
Sending soone with only five fights to face a two-division world champion was bold. Shenil might have knockout power, but Damon wasn't just a striker. He was complete. He was seasoned. He had walked through wars that would take years off most fighters' careers.
He watched another clip where Shenil sward an opponent against the cage, overwhelming him with pressure.
Damon paused the video and leaned back.
"He's good," he muttered to himself. "But he's not ready."
That was the honest truth.
Shenil was ant to face Enton next.
Not Damon.
The gap in skill and fight IQ was huge. Damon didn't underestimate the power or the aggression, but he knew what he was looking at. Shenil was a new prospect with a high ceiling… but he wasn't built for this level yet.
Still, Damon trained like Shenil was the biggest threat in the tournant.
Pressure fighters always opened dangerous exchanges. Power always gave surprises. And in MMA, one stupid mont could end a career.
So Damon locked in on every detail, how Shenil stepped in, the timing of his entries, the way he loaded his right hand, the slight delay in his guard whenever he threw a combination.
Now, this wasn't to say Shenil lacked experience. The man was in his mid-thirties. No fighter reached that age undefeated without a long background in combat.
His biography confird it. He had started training when he was a child and had competed through several regional circuits before ever joining UNO.
So Damon approached him with respect.
He tightened up his wrestling sessions, drilling defense and scrambles nonstop.
Shenil's pressure ca from his ability to mix takedowns with heavy hands, so Damon put extra work into reading level changes and punishing entries.
After that, he sharpened his striking, focusing on clean counters and timing. He didn't need new techniques.
While he trained, ti moved quickly.
Before Damon knew it, the event was only weeks away. UNO and UFA were pushing the promotion everywhere.
Ads, trailers, press conferences, fighter interviews, both companies poured everything into building hype. They wanted this event to be a global mont, sothing fans would talk about for years.
If this event failed, it wouldn't just be one bad night. It would hit both companies' reputations. Years of dominance and credibility were on the line.
Fighters from both organizations had staked their pride on this. Fans across Asia and the Aricas were waiting to see who truly had the best champions.
Everywhere Damon looked, online, TV, fight forums, the anticipation was building.
The responsibility wasn't new to him, but it carried weight all the sa.
The countdown had officially begun.
.
.
.
Damon was at ho finishing the last of the packing. There were several bags lined up near the door since they would be staying overseas for more than a week.
The first night of the event would be held in Asia, so he decided it was better to fly early and settle in.
Svetlana was excited. She had never been to Asia before, and neither had Ava.
They wanted to see how Singapore looked, walk around, take photos, and enjoy the trip before everything beca serious for the fights.
Damon felt the sa. His only real experience in Asia had been in Thailand back when he trained Muay Thai under Somchai.
Thinking about the old man made him pause for a mont. It had been years since he last saw him. Somchai was one of the first people to push him physically and ntally.
Damon's style had been shaped heavily by Muay Thai, especially after receiving it as one of the first disciplines from the system. The training in Thailand only reinforced it until it beca part of him.
He wondered if Somchai was still in the sa gym. A visit to Thailand crossed his mind. Even if it was short, he wanted to thank the man in person one day.
For now, he finished checking the zipper on the final suitcase. Svetlana ca over with Ava on her hip, smiling at him.
Ava was on Svetlana's hip, looking around at the bags stacked near the door. Her eyes were wide, curious, and full of energy. She pointed at the biggest suitcase.
"Daddy, we taking that to fight the dragons?" she asked confidently.
Damon blinked. "Dragons?"
Ava nodded hard. "Yes. Big ones. They breathe fire. I will punch them."
Svetlana sighed. "Ava… there are no dragons."
Ava frowned. "You don't know that."
Damon laughed. "Where did you even hear that?"
Ava pointed at the TV that wasn't even on. "They live there. In the screen. They watch ."
Svetlana stared at her. "What?"
Ava continued without hesitation. "When Daddy fights, I fight too. I punch the air. I beat all the monsters."
Damon raised an eyebrow. "All of them?"
"ALL," she repeated, spreading her arms wide. "Even the big chicken."
Svetlana pinched the bridge of her nose. "What chicken, Ava?"
Damon noticed the strain in Svetlana's arms. She was carrying Ava while balancing her belly, and it was clear she was uncomfortable.
"Let take her," he said.
Svetlana smiled and glanced at the bags beside them. "And who's going to carry those?" she joked.
Damon paused, realizing she was right. "Alright, I'll do that." He picked up the bags instead.
Ava leaned forward imdiately. "Daddy, let help!"
She slipped out of Svetlana's hold and ran over to Damon. Her version of helping was grabbing the handles of the bags he was already lifting, her tiny arms straining as if she was doing half the work.
Damon held in a laugh. "You're very strong, Ava."
"I know," she said proudly, still gripping the bags even though he was carrying all the weight.
With her "help," they managed to get everything packed into the car. It took longer than it should have, but Ava was pleased with herself, and Svetlana looked relieved.
A short while later, they were on the road, heading to the airport. Ava sat in her seat humming loudly and kicking her feet, while Damon drove and Svetlana rested a hand on her stomach, easing the small aches from earlier.
The trip had officially begun.
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