Chapter 185
Damon’s arms coiled like a vice around Kofi’s neck as he tightened his hold.
As he leaned closer, the thrill of control infused his voice, which was hardly more than a whisper, and the intensity of the moment surged through him.
“What now, huh? Sleeping to chopsticks and Leprechauns…what a failure,” Damon muttered.
He wasn’t exactly a trash talker, and even as the words left his mouth, he felt a bit awkward.
But at this moment, it didn’t matter.
Kofi was still fighting. His arms, though weakening, were still struggling against the choke.
The referee moved in, lifting Kofi’s arm to check if he was still in it, and it stayed firm, refusing to drop.
Damon’s muscles burned, and while he couldn’t see the time on the clock, he estimated the fight had dragged on for longer than expected.
He knew time was running out.
If he didn’t finish Kofi soon, the bell would save him, and that wasn’t an option.
He had to finish this.
With a swift move, Damon did something unconventional, something he’d only learned back at home from Coach José.
Instead of keeping the standard rear-naked choke, he shifted his body slightly, leaning to the side and threading his right leg around Kofi’s midsection, trapping one of his arms between his own leg and Kofi’s body.
It was a strange, almost unorthodox position, a hybrid between a rear-naked choke and a body triangle.
But the way Damon twisted his torso, it increased the pressure on Kofi’s neck and lungs in a way most fighters wouldn’t expect.
Kofi’s free hand desperately clawed at Damon’s forearm, but the awkward angle made it impossible for him to get any leverage.
Damon’s left arm was like steel around his throat, and the leg position made it nearly impossible for Kofi to move or roll out.
This was a technique Coach José had taught him, a position meant to trap not just the neck, but the body, restricting movement entirely.
Kofi’s breathing became more erratic, his body twitching as he tried to fight off the choke.
Damon squeezed tighter, his face close to Kofi’s ear, feeling the desperate gasps of his opponent.
Seconds felt like hours, but Damon knew the end was near.h
Kofi’s grip weakened further, his arm finally dropping as his movements slowed.
The referee moved in, checking Kofi’s response, lifting his hand once more.
This time, it fell limp.
Hank Binn stepped in immediately, pulling Damon off. “That’s it! He’s out!”
Damon released the choke, rolling off Kofi.
Kofi lay still on the mat, unconscious, his chest rising and falling slowly as the referee signaled the end of the fight.
Damon stood up, breathing heavily, his chest heaving with exhaustion.
With every ragged breath, Damon’s chest rose and fell as he stood over Kofi’s unconscious body.
He had done it.
He had come to The Supreme Fighter to make a name for himself, and now, with the semifinals behind him, he was on the verge of finishing the journey.
But his body reminded him of the cost.
The blows Kofi had landed during the match were taking their toll, his ribs ached, his muscles screamed, and each step felt heavier than the last.
Yet the adrenaline coursing through his veins numbed the pain, at least for now.
The medical staff hurried past him, kneeling next to Kofi to see how he was doing, and Damon looked down.
His opponent lay still, the toll of the fight evident in his unconscious form.
Despite everything, Damon felt a pang of respect for the power Kofi had brought into the cage.
Before he could reflect any further, his team flooded the ring, clapping him on the back and shouting congratulations.
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Whittier was right there, giving Damon a proud nod, while the assistant coaches wore wide grins, thrilled with the victory.
But even in the middle of the celebration, Damon’s mind was already shifting ahead.
There was still one more fight.
One final step to the finish line.
And that thought hung heavy, even as the momentary joy of victory filled the cage.
Ivan slapped Damon on the back with a wide grin. “Brother, you have to teach me that move.”
Damon chuckled, still catching his breath. “Trade secret,” he replied, flashing a brief smile despite the exhaustion weighing on him.
As the celebration quieted, Damon glanced at Kofi, who had finally woken up.
Kofi’s chest heaved with fatigue, his eyes no longer filled with the arrogance that had fueled him before the fight.
Instead, they carried a look of respect. He nodded at Damon, acknowledging the battle they’d just endured.
Damon returned the nod, his own expression solemn but respectful.
In that quiet conversation, the tension that had been between them seemed to vanish.
Hank Binn called them forward. Damon and Kofi approached, still reeling from the intensity of the fight.
Hank took hold of their wrists, lifting Damon’s arm high into the air.
“The winner by submission, advancing to The Supreme Fighter Finals… Damon Cross!”
Damon sighed, feeling the weight of the moment.
The move he had used at the end, that unorthodox choke, was something unique.
Even the system hadn’t recognized it as an official technique or move.
It had come naturally, almost instinctively, from his training with Coach José back home.
He reflected on how most of his fights ended in knockouts, with this submission being a rare finish for him.
As they made their way out of the cage, Damon caught sight of Brian standing off to the side.
When their eyes met, you could feel the tension between them.
If anyone thought Damon’s fight with Kofi was personal, this was on another level entirely.
Brian had been waiting for this, itching for a chance to get his hands on Damon ever since Logan had been defeated.
His stare was cold, filled with determination and a touch of bitterness.
Damon, however, experienced an adrenaline rush.
There was something satisfying about the idea of beating both Walker brothers.
He had already taken down Logan, and now Brian was the next target.
He thought to himself, ‘Wouldn’t it be nice to show him the same lesson?’