Damon watched the screen as Joren Edlen raised his arm, calm and composed in the middle of the cage.
The celebration was simple, since it wasn't a crowning moment, there weren't any grand celebrations.
Damon sat back on the couch, resting his elbow on the armrest.
He preferred this.
If he had to face someone from this tournament, he would've picked Joren ten times out of ten. Tolkov was a killer, no question, but Damon had already visualized that fight.
He knew how it would've played out. Tolkov was slow-footed, static, and patient. And Damon thrived against that.
But Joren was very different.
He moved fast. He wrestled very well. He fought to win moments, not rounds. And he hadn't lost yet.
That's what made this more interesting.
"He's undefeated," Damon muttered, mostly to himself.
He'd done it before—he handed Balim Chemasov his first loss. And there was something different about taking an opponent's zero. It was more than a win. It was a rewrite of their identity.
