The arena erupted the moment the referee stepped in.
It was over.
Damon Cross had done it, again.
Not just a win. Not just a finish. A complete performance that left no doubt. He walked through a legend, and did it with calculated precision.
The crowd roared as his arm was raised. Fans on their feet, chanting his name. Flashes of camera phones lit up the cage like stars.
He didn't scream. He didn't jump on the cage. He just stood there, calm, composed, his chest rising and falling with steady breaths, as if the victory was something he already expected.
His team entered, clapping, patting his shoulders, proud smiles on all their faces.
Victor was the last to enter. No words. Just a firm nod and a hand on the back of Damon's neck.
In the commentary booth, the analysts were breaking it down.
Jon Goodman: "That second round was the turning point. Damon's invisible body shots changed everything, Desayen never fully recovered from those. You could see it in his posture."
