Damon stood up from his chair and clapped his hands, the sound sharp against the quiet of the gym.
Both men had gone through fire. They had shown heart, grit, and the kind of stubbornness that only came out when everything was on the line.
Kenji had been relentless, pushing forward even when rocked, trying to rip victory out of nothing with that desperate armbar. He'd refused to give in, even as Max's fists crashed down on him.
And Max, fighting with one arm that was clearly compromised, still found a way to adapt, create, and finish.
The way he evaded the second armbar, then immediately switched into a vicious ground-and-pound assault, was spectacular. It was the kind of improvisation Damon respected most.
He clapped again, louder, nodding toward the cage. "Good work, boys," he muttered under his breath.
Both fighters had given more than technique; they had given themselves.
