The weeks that followed were focused and precise. Damon made sure of it.
The American had proven himself not just as a finalist, but as a machine.
Damon had seen enough to know that the guy wasn't all talk, and if Damon wanted to stay undefeated, he needed to train like it was his first title shot all over again.
Each day was structured. Striking drills in the morning. Wrestling in the afternoon. Grappling at night. Conditioning in between.
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The mat squeaked under their feet as they circled. Damon lowered his stance, hands up, tracking Ty's movement.
Ty stalked.
They clashed in a collar tie.
Ty dug for inside control and snapped Damon's head down hard, but Damon absorbed it, kept his feet under him, and slid to the side with a shrug to break the grip. They reset without speaking, the rhythm already set.
Ty faked a shot low. Damon didn't bite.
Then Ty shot in for real, a snatch single-leg, fast for his size.
