Damon sat on a folding chair in the back room of the ceremonial weigh-in, resting his elbows on his knees and staring at the floor.
He wasn't nervous, more annoyed. There was a buzz in the air, coaches exchanging low whispers, Victor pacing near the wall.
Victor finally broke the silence with a sigh. "Kid, this isn't good. Gustalam showed up too heavy. Are you sure you still want to do this?"
Edward, who was sitting nearby with his arms crossed, agreed. "They are giving you the choice to leave, Damon. No one will think less of you because of it. He didn't meet the terms, plain and simple."
Damon let out a sharp exhale, leaning back in his chair. He crossed his arms and stared at the ceiling for a moment. "I know what you're all thinking," he started, his tone calm but edged with defiance. "But I didn't come here to back out. I don't care if he's overweight; I'm still fighting him."
Victor's pacing stopped, and he turned to face Damon, his expression unreadable. "Look, no one's questioning your heart, but fighting a guy who's coming in heavier? It's not just about pride. You could be putting yourself at a disadvantage."
Damon glanced up, his blue eyes sharp. "I've fought bigger guys than me before. He's overweight, not invincible. Besides, he's the one who's going to look bad when I beat him."
Edward leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "It's not just the weight, man. It's the principle. He's coming in bigger, stronger, and fresher because he didn't make the cut. You sure this is the right call?"
Damon ran a hand through his hair, exhaling slowly. "I get it, but if I walk away, all anyone's going to say is that I dodged the fight. I'm here to prove a point. Short notice, overweight, doesn't matter. I'm ready."
Victor exchanged a glance with Edward, then rubbed the back of his neck. "Alright. Your call, kid. Just know we're with you either way."
The announcer's voice boomed through the speakers, signaling the next fighter's turn on the stage.
He stood up and rolled his neck and shook his arms around. His attention got better, and the irritation in his eyes turned into determination.
As Victor stepped closer, he patted Damon on the shoulder. "Okay, go show them why you're the Supreme Fighter. Just keep your head in the game out there."
Damon smirked. "Always."
When the door opened, Damon walked down the hall with his trainers following behind him.
The muffled cheers of the small crowd grew louder as he neared the stage.
Victor stopped and turned back as Edward stepped in front of him, his expression tense. "You're not seriously letting him fight, are you? The guy came in fifteen pounds over, Victor. With rehydration, he'll probably be pushing twenty or more. This isn't middleweight anymore, it's a damn heavyweight fight!"
Victor let out a heavy sigh and rubbed the back of his neck as he looked into Edward's eyes. "Look, I hear you, and I agree with you. This is dangerous. But what do you suggest I do? Damon's a grown man. I can't make decisions for him."
Edward clenched his fists, clearly frustrated. "He's walking into a stacked deck! This isn't just dangerous; it's reckless. Someone needs to step in, you need to step in!"
Victor's tone softened, though the weight of his words didn't waver. "Believe me, I've thought about it. But Damon… he's not the kind of guy you can stop once he's set on something. You think I haven't tried? He doesn't want to back down, Edward. He wants to prove something."
Edward's jaw tightened, his teeth grinding in frustration. "So what? You just stand back and let him fight a guy who didn't even try to make weight? That's just rewarding scum like Cellan for slacking off. Why the hell isn't the UFA canceling this match?"
Victor stepped closer, his voice low but firm. "Because the UFA doesn't care, Edward. They care about keeping the card intact. They've given Damon the choice, and you know as well as I do he's not walking away. So what do we do? We support him. That's all we can do."
Edward was left behind as Victor walked off, shaking his head in frustration.
His thoughts were a storm, cursing Cellan for disrespecting the sport. Fighters like that, ones who didn't take things seriously, weren't deserving to step on the stage.
He muttered under his breath, his gaze following Victor and Damon. "This fight better be worth it. If Cellan's playing dirty, Damon better make him regret it."
Victor stood at the edge of the stage, his eyes fixed on Cellan Gustalam as the overweight fighter walked up to the scale.
The crowd booed when the speaker said the weight, which was fifteen pounds too heavy for a middleweight. Victor clenched his teeth and crossed his arms over his chest.
Next to him, Damon stood calm, his expression unreadable as he watched the scene unfold.
Victor glanced at him, concern etched into his face.
He wanted to stop this fight. This wasn't just about Cellan being overweight; it was about the principle.
This wasn't a necessary fight.
It was dangerous and unfair, but he also knew Damon.
If he could pull this off, his name would skyrocket. Yet Victor couldn't help but feel it wasn't worth the risk.
The fight had officially been moved to light heavyweight, a decision that had only added fuel to the fire of boos from the crowd.
Victor suspected Cellan had stopped caring the moment his original opponent was pulled for doping.
The result was a careless, unprofessional display, with Cellan clearly showing up heavier than even a light heavyweight limit would suggest once rehydrated.
Victor sighed, his thoughts turning to the UFA. "They're really letting this happen," he muttered under his breath.
Two days ago, at the official weigh-in, the weight discrepancy had been revealed. But by then, it was too late to cancel the fight.
A last-minute cancellation would have disrupted the card entirely, and the UFA right now cared more about maintaining their schedule than ensuring a fair fight.
It's not like they didn't give him a choice.
He looked back at Damon, who stood steady, his eyes locked on Cellan as he walked off the stage.
Victor leaned in slightly, lowering his voice. "You still sure about this, kid? You don't have to prove anything to anyone. Not ."
Damon finally broke his silence, his voice calm but firm. "I'm sure, Vic. I can handle whatever's thrown at me." His eyes narrowed slightly as he looked at Cellan. "Even if they throw a guy who's practically a heavyweight."
Victor sighed again, shaking his head. He wanted to argue, to convince Damon to walk away.
But he knew it was pointless. Damon wasn't the type to back down, no matter the odds.
As boos continued to echo through the arena, Victor could only hope that Damon's confidence wasn't misplaced.