In the back hallway of the arena, away from the noise and lights, Damon Cross sat on a bench with his hands slowly clapping together. A faint nod followed, lips pressed in thought.
"That was an entertaining match," he muttered.
He leaned back against the wall, still watching the screen in front of him. The replay looped, Sharim's kick attempt, the overhand, the final kick.
Ivan had been improving.
Not that he was trash back in The Supreme Fighter, far from it. Ivan was always a workhorse. Gritty. Grappling-heavy.
Built like someone carved from wrestling mats and judo throws. But this? This version of Ivan was different.
More precise. More dangerous.
Damon tilted his head slightly as the screen cut to a slow-motion replay of Ivan's hammer fists.
'Yeah. That's the mindset.'
He understood exactly what Ivan was doing. He knew what that fight meant, not just the win, but how it was won.
