Chapter 332
The arena was quiet as the opening bell rang, letting everyone know that the much-anticipated main event had begun.
While circling the octagon, Damon hopped lightly on his toes and kept his eyes on Jake Armansson.
His arms were relaxed and his body was still.
Damon knew the plan. Jake wasn’t here to strike with him, not long-term.
Grappling was Jake’s bread and butter, and Damon anticipated the moment he would shoot for a takedown.
But first, he wanted to test the waters, to play around and see what Jake would bring to the table standing up.
Jake advanced methodically, his hands high in a tight guard, chin tucked.
He feinted a few jabs, not committing to anything substantial yet.
His movements were calculated, almost robotic, with small steps forward and deliberate positioning.
He was clearly waiting for an opportunity to close the distance.
Damon smirked faintly, throwing a light jab to gauge the range. It wasn’t meant to land, just to tease out a reaction.
Jake responded with a quick inside leg kick, snapping it low and hard against Damon’s lead leg.
Damon stepped back, unfazed, rolling his shoulders as if inviting more.
“Damon Cross looking calm here in the opening moments,” the play-by-play commentator observed.
“He’s testing Jake, seeing how he reacts, but you can tell Jake’s already planning his first takedown.”
Jake threw another leg kick, but Damon checked it smoothly, countering with a sharp straight right to the body that landed cleanly.
Jake grunted and stepped back, reassessing. Damon didn’t pursue, content to let Jake come to him.
“Beautiful counter by Cross,” the color commentator added. “He’s showing great awareness early, staying at range and picking his shots.”
Jake pressed forward again, this time throwing a crisp one-two combination.
It wasn’t meant to hurt, it was meant to close the distance.
Damon saw it coming a mile away, slipping the punches with ease and circling out to his left.
Damon pivoted back into range, snapping a quick jab that found its mark on Jake’s forehead.
He followed with a blistering low kick, cracking against Jake’s calf.
Jake winced but didn’t falter, immediately returning fire with a high kick that Damon blocked with his forearm.
Damon smiled now, loosening up.
He fainted a left hook, watching Jake flinch slightly, before whipping a brutal teep kick straight into Jake’s stomach.
The sound of the impact echoed in the small venue as Jake stumbled back, briefly losing his balance.
“Damon Cross is outclassing Jake Armansson on the feet right now,” the commentator said, his voice rising with excitement.
“This is what we expected, striking dominance from the young prospect.”
Jake adjusted his stance, his face unreadable but clearly more cautious now.
He threw another low kick, harder this time, but Damon leaned back, letting it miss by inches.
He countered instantly with a lightning-quick one-two combination that snapped Jake’s head back.
Damon pressed forward, his confidence building.
He landed a sharp hook to the body, then a step-in elbow that grazed Jake’s temple as the grappler tried to clinch.
Damon shoved him off, creating space, and fired another kick to the ribs.
Jake was visibly slowing down, his footwork less crisp as he absorbed the punishment.
“Cross is putting on a striking clinic!” the commentator exclaimed.
“He’s staying calm, picking his shots, and completely outclassing Jake on the feet.”
But Jake wasn’t out of it yet. He adjusted again, feinting a takedown for the first time in the fight.
Damon didn’t bite, his hands staying high as he circled away.
Jake followed with a quick left hook, which Damon slipped effortlessly, countering with a brutal uppercut that snapped Jake’s head back.
The arena buzzed with anticipation.
“That uppercut could’ve ended it!” the color commentator said. “Damon Cross is absolutely dialed in.”
Damon stepped back now, resetting as Jake pressed a hand to his face, shaking off the impact.
He could see it clearly, Jake was rattled.
The strikes were accumulating, and the gap in skill was obvious.
But Damon knew better than to get careless. He kept his distance, waiting for Jake’s next move.
Jake’s movements became sharper, more purposeful. It was clear the grappler had enough of the striking exchanges.
His punches were merely a distraction now, probing Damon’s defense to find an opening for his real game plan.
Damon watched him carefully, his stance slightly lowered, ready for anything.
He could feel it, the change in Jake’s rhythm.
The way his shoulders tensed just a little more, the subtle shift in his footwork.
“He’s going for it,” Damon muttered to himself.
Jake stepped forward suddenly, feinting another jab, then dipped low, shooting for a double-leg takedown with explosive speed.
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But Damon was ready.
As Jake’s hands reached for Damon’s hips, Damon sprawled hard, his legs shooting back to deny the takedown.
At the same time, he looped his arm under Jake’s right shoulder, securing a tight overhook.
Jake tried to drive forward, but Damon pivoted on his left foot, using Jake’s own momentum against him.
In one fluid motion, Damon twisted his hips and swept Jake’s legs out from under him with a perfectly timed whizzer throw.
The crowd erupted as Jake hit the canvas, Damon landing directly on top in side control.
“Oh my god!” Rick shouted, his voice almost cracking. “Did Damon Cross just counter a takedown with a takedown of his own?!”
“That was insane!” Michael chimed in, nearly standing from his seat. “Not only does he defend the takedown, but he flips the script entirely and takes Jake down instead! What a move!”
Damon maintained his composure, pinning Jake’s shoulders to the mat while keeping his weight heavy.
Jake, clearly stunned, tried to scramble, but Damon was relentless.
He transitioned to north-south position, controlling Jake’s head and arms, preventing any escape.
“Damon Cross is making a statement right now!” Rick continued. “This is Jake Armansson’s world, and Damon just walked in and flipped it upside down!”
Jake bucked his hips, trying to create space, but Damon floated effortlessly, sliding back into side control and locking in a tight underhook to keep Jake pinned.
“That’s pure fight IQ,” Michael added. “Damon isn’t just surviving on the ground, he’s thriving. This is next-level stuff from the young prospect.”