The crowd of fighters stood behind the cage barrier, eyes fixed on the center. Damon stayed beside José, who looked worn but composed.
Ivan stood across the cage, next to Dorian Vega, who bounced lightly on his feet, still catching his breath.
The announcer stepped forward with the official card in hand. His voice rang out clearly through the building.
"Ladies and gentlemen, after three rounds of action, we go to the judges' scorecards for a decision."
The air stayed still. Fighters leaned in. Some folded their arms; others whispered quietly to one another.
"All three judges score the contest… 29–28…"
A pause. No one moved.
"For the winner by unanimous decision…"
He raised his hand slowly toward the red corner.
José's eyes widened. He didn't celebrate loud, just smiled and nodded, relief settling over his face.
Damon clapped a firm hand on his shoulder, giving him a nod of approval. Across the cage, Dorian took the decision well, shaking his head but not throwing a fuss.
Team Damon cheered from behind the cage. It wasn't dominant, but it was a win, and the first one mattered more than most.
José walked over and offered his hand. Dorian accepted it without hesitation, nodding once before turning back to his corner. There was no tension, just mutual respect. Both men had given everything.
Damon remained near the cage wall as his team stepped in. Some clapped José on the back, others raised fists in celebration, but Damon didn't rush in. He watched for a moment, letting the result settle.
It was a win, but it wasn't clean. Coaching, he realized, wasn't just about gameplans and strategies, it was about understanding people.
Every fighter came in with their own history, habits, and mindset. José's hesitation wasn't physical. It was mental. And that hesitation nearly cost them the match.
Damon finally stepped forward and joined the group. He patted José on the shoulder, kept his words short, but purposeful.
"Well done. Let's talk later."
He wasn't disappointed in the win. But he also wasn't satisfied.
In that moment, it became clear. If he wanted to lead this team to victory, he had to treat it like a fight camp of his own.
He couldn't just train them. He had to study them, like future opponents. Look at their mistakes, both big and small. Break them down. Then rebuild them stronger.
Some flaws were like José's, obvious, and in plain sight. Others would be hidden, subtle things that would only surface when it mattered most.
Damon understood now that coaching wasn't a one-size-fits-all job. If he wanted to make an impact, he had to adjust, just like he would in a fight.
This wasn't about his record anymore. This was about theirs.
Damon walked behind the team, watching them joke and nudge each other as they made their way down the hallway toward the locker room.
The energy was light, a buzz of relief and celebration running through everyone.
José had gotten the job done, and even if the fight wasn't flawless, it was a win, and that mattered more right now.
Once inside the locker room, the team settled in. A couple sat on benches, still sweaty and catching their breath from the adrenaline.
José had a towel over his shoulder, sipping water while one of the assistant coaches checked on a bruise on his shin. Damon clapped his hands once to get their attention.
"Alright," he said, "that's how you start."
The guys gave a few claps and cheers, nodding along.
"We're not gonna overanalyze anything right now. I'll go over details with José tomorrow. Tonight, we enjoy the win. That's one on the board for us."
He looked toward José. "You showed grit. That guy wasn't easy, but you stayed in it, and you found a way. You didn't fold. That's what matters. That's what this is about."
José gave a nod, a half-smile breaking through his usual serious expression.
Damon turned back to the rest. "All of you, this is just the start. You see what happens when you stick to what you've trained, listen to your corner, and keep pushing. We've got more fights coming, and I want this energy every time, focused, confident, ready."
The room felt lighter now. There was laughter again. Some of the fighters gave José playful jabs on the arm, teasing him for waiting so long to let his hands go.
Damon let it all happen. He didn't correct anything. He just watched. This was the kind of morale a team needed early in the season.
It was a long road ahead, and wins gave them belief. One by one, the fighters began to file toward the showers or out to the hallway, still chatting.
Damon sat on the bench for a moment and looked around at the empty chairs and discarded wraps. The real work was coming.
Damon stepped into the office, finding Ivan already seated across from Ronan. The energy in the room was relaxed but focused. Ronan stood as Damon entered, gesturing toward the empty chair beside Ivan.
"Great start, guys," Ronan said, nodding at both of them. "That was a hell of a first fight. Competitive, close, just what we needed to get things rolling."
Damon gave a short nod and sat, his body still carrying a bit of the adrenaline from earlier.
Ronan leaned forward, hands on the table. "So, here's the flow. Next up is lightweight. We'll keep alternating, one division at a time. Gives everyone time to reset, and you both get a better look at your teams."
Ivan gave a brief nod in agreement.
"Now," Ronan continued, "before we go back into full grind mode, tomorrow we're doing an activity day. Something to break the ice more, get the fighters relaxed, help them bond outside of the gym. Doesn't have to be complicated. Could be basketball, hiking, beach games, whatever. You've got the van, pick something, get them out of the house."
Damon raised an eyebrow. "Anything competitive?"
Ronan smirked. "I figured you'd ask that. Yeah, sure, keep it light though. This isn't about breaking each other's noses, it's just to shake off the tension. Think of it as a reset before the next war."
Ivan crossed his arms. "You want us to be camp counselors for a day?"
Ronan shrugged. "You're the ones who wanted to coach. This is part of it. Fighters need balance. You push too hard too fast, they burn out before the second pick."
Damon leaned back, processing it. "Fine. I'll come up with something."
Ronan stood again, signaling the meeting was done. "Good. Enjoy the win, don't forget what you saw tonight, and don't let it get to your head. You've got a long road ahead."
As they left the office, Damon gave Ivan a glance, then walked toward the parking lot.