As the van pulled into the gym lot, Damon stepped out first.
He walked straight to the front entrance, pushing the door open without waiting for the team.
His assistant coaches were already inside, stretching mats, checking gloves, and laying out water bottles.
The cage sat in the center of the floor.
The fighters came in behind him, all eight of them, bags over their shoulders. Damon didn't waste time.
"Drop your stuff, wrap your hands, and line up," he said. "We're going straight to sparring. I need to see what I'm working with."
No one questioned it. They moved quickly, gearing up and standing in front of him as instructed. Damon looked at the lightweights first.
He pointed to Ronny. "You're with Max."
Then to the other two. "Ayo, you're going with Kenji."
He stepped back and looked them all over again.
"Three rounds each. First one light. Second with pressure. Third, full speed but smart. No cheap shots. No proving a point. I want to see your reads, your movement, and your adjustments."
Ronny nodded. Max cracked his neck and bounced a little on his feet. Ayo grinned, already shaking his arms loose. Kenji stayed quiet, pulling his gloves on without blinking.
Damon then turned to the middleweights.
"José, you're going with Elias. Theo, you're with Kaito."
Same rules. Three rounds each. Damon wanted them tired, but controlled. This wasn't a brawl. This was film work, but live.
José stretched his shoulders and gave Elias a respectful nod. Elias responded with a short one of his own. Both were serious.
Both knew how to carry themselves. Theo smirked and shook out his legs, while Kaito slowly tied his gloves, eyes already focused.
Damon watched them all carefully.
He didn't speak again. The sparring would do the talking now.
The rounds began one after the other. Gloves snapped, feet shuffled across the mats, and the rhythm of movement filled the gym. The cage wasn't just for show today, every inch of it would be used.
Damon had the fighters rotate inside while the assistant coaches stood at the edges, each one assigned to watch a specific exchange.
Their job was to observe, not interfere. Damon didn't want interruptions.
He wanted raw footage, unfiltered habits. Mistakes had to show before they could be fixed.
Damon himself didn't stay still. He moved between pairs, crouched beside the cage, and gave short, specific adjustments in real time.
"Ronny, step out after the combo. Don't wait in the pocket."
"Max, stay on your feet. You're giving up ground too easily."
"Ayo, use your jab to control space, not just react."
"Kenji, let the right hand go. Don't overthink it."
Once the first set of three rounds ended, he gave them a short break, two minutes to breathe, reset, and hydrate. Then they switched opponents.
Ronny now sparred with Ayo, and Max moved in with Kenji. Damon did the same with the middleweights, José now went with Theo, and Elias took on Kaito.
This rotation helped him spot which fighters adjusted under different styles and which ones kept repeating the same habits.
After sparring, they moved to standard drills. Nothing fancy, just hard, practical work like you'd see on any fighters camp.
They started with chain wrestling on the mats. Pummeling for underhooks, takedown setups, cage control, and wall-walk drills.
The lightweights focused on movement, scrambling, and quick transitions.
The middleweights drilled pressure-based sequences, staying heavy on top, controlling hips, framing under fire.
Each fighter worked one-on-one with an assistant coach, running through simple combinations. It wasn't about flash.
It was about efficiency. Jabs, low kicks, feints, and resets.
Damon walked between them with a clipboard, making notes, correcting guard placement, adjusting stances, and pointing out open targets.
They ended the session with conditioning, sprints across the mat, sprawls on command, and bodyweight circuits that pushed them into the edge of fatigue.
No one was breaking down, but no one was cruising either.
By the end of the training block, the shirts were soaked. Breathing was heavy, but no one had quit. That mattered.
Damon looked around the gym. His fighters weren't perfect, but they were showing effort. And more importantly, they were listening.
Once training wrapped up and everyone had showered, the team gathered again in the open space near the cage.
Damon stood in front of them, arms folded, while the assistant coaches leaned against the nearby wall.
The fighters looked more relaxed now. Shirts changed, sweat dried, and most of the tension from earlier had worn off.
But they knew something was coming. Damon hadn't said anything all day about fights, until now.
He looked at all eight of them before speaking.
"Good work today. I got what I needed from that session. I saw how you move, how you spar, and how you handle pressure."
He paused, making sure everyone was paying attention.
"Tomorrow, we pick the first fight."
"It won't be a fight tomorrow, but it will be decided tomorrow. That means you've got one more day to show something before I make that call."
He looked at the middleweights.
"The first fight is coming from your group. I'll be choosing who represents us."
No one said anything. A few glanced around, but most stayed locked in.
"I'm not picking based on who hits the hardest or who looks good on pads. I'm picking based on discipline, focus, and what gives us the best shot at winning the opening fight."
He let his eyes move across José, Elias, Theo, and Kaito.
"All four of you need to be ready. Tomorrow's session might be lighter, but that doesn't mean it's casual. Everything matters."
Then he looked at the whole team.
"And the rest of you, pay attention. How this first fight goes sets the tone for the season. Winning early means control."
He stepped back slightly, voice firm.
"Get some rest. You'll need it."
The meeting ended there.
Tomorrow, someone's name would be called. And once that happened, there'd be no turning back.