It was late at night in England. The excitement in the arena never dropped, and the crowd cheered as each fight ended.
But now all eyes were on the next fight, which was Damon's.
He had been warming up for the past few minutes, his body loose, his mind clear.
Each movement felt sharp, each breath steady. This wasn't like fighting in the UFA, where he knew his opponents, had seen their footage, and studied their weaknesses.
This was different. His opponent was from Brazil, from a different promotion.
If Brazil had sent Alex Tereira, that would've been something.
A challenge, even. He could wrestle him, sure, but there would've been real danger in the striking department.
But his opponent tonight? A name he barely recognized, a fighter he hadn't studied extensively.
That could mean one of two things, either this guy wasn't on his level, or he was a dark horse, someone just as dangerous but without the same recognition.
Damon wasn't worried.
