Chapter 863: The Return

Chapter 863: Chapter 863: The Return

The announcer’s voice boomed through the arena, bouncing off the crowd.

"Introducing, from the red corner. This man is a mixed martial artist with a professional record of seventeen wins and three losses. He stands six feet tall, weighing in at one hundred and eighty-five pounds even. Fighting out of Dagestan, Russia. He is the reigning UNO Middleweight Champion. The reigning UNO Light Heavyweight Champion. Introducing... ANTON MALIKIN!"

The crowd answered with a mix of cheers and boos, the sound crashing around the cage. Anton stood in his corner with his arms crossed, looking straight across at Damon. His expression was calm, the kind of calm that came from long preparation and a clear purpose.

"And his opponent," the announcer continued, "fighting out of the blue corner. A mixed martial artist with a professional record of thirty-three wins and zero losses. He is the reigning UFA Middleweight Champion, the reigning UFA Light Heavyweight Champion, a two-time World Cup MMA Champion, and the most dominant fighter on the planet!"

Fans rose to their feet as the announcer pointed toward Damon.

"Fighting out of Dublin, Ireland. Presenting the two-division world champion... THE RONIN—DAMON CROOOOSSSSS!"

The noise got louder. Damon stood in his corner and bounced on his feet, rolling his neck. He could feel the energy of the crowd pressing in, but he kept his breathing steady.

"Can’t get tired of hearing that," Damon said under his breath.

"No, you can’t," the commentators laughed in the background.

The announcer stepped back, and the referee called both fighters to the center of the cage. He went over the rules in a calm, practiced voice. No strikes to the back of the head. No eye gouging. Obey the ref at all times. Both men nodded.

"You can touch gloves if you want," the referee said.

Damon didn’t hold anything against Anton. He raised his gloves, and Anton touched back, giving a small nod. They held each other’s eyes for a second before stepping away.

"A respectful showcase. That’s what we like to see," Jon said from the commentary table.

Both fighters returned to their corners. The announcer and the referee’s assistant stepped out of the cage, and the door was locked. The lights settled into a clean white wash over the canvas. The crowd seemed to hold its breath.

The referee looked at Anton. "Ready?"

Anton nodded.

The referee looked at Damon. "Ready?"

Damon smiled and nodded.

The referee stepped back and waved his arm down. The bell rang, sharp and final.

Anton came forward immediately, not rushing but closing distance with flat, measured steps. He kept his hands high and his chin low, circling to his left. Damon matched him, staying light on his feet, watching the way Anton’s lead hand moved.

There was no feeling-out. Anton threw the first shot, a quick jab that Damon slipped by an inch. The follow-up hook came behind it, and Damon blocked it on the forearm, feeling the weight behind it. Anton was the same as before, but sharper. There was more intent in every move.

Damon circled off and threw a low kick to Anton’s lead leg. It landed with a clean thud. Anton checked the second one, lifting his shin, and answered with a cross that grazed Damon’s shoulder.

They reset in the center of the cage. Anton moved his head side to side, stepping in and out of range. Damon watched his hips, not his hands. That was the lesson he had carried from the first fight: Anton set up everything with his footwork.

Anton feinted with the left hand and stepped in. Damon saw the angle and answered with a straight right down the middle. It caught Anton on the cheek and snapped his head back. The crowd roared.

Anton blinked, and then he smiled, just for a second, and moved forward again.

Anton stepped in with another jab. Damon slipped it, but the jab had been a feint. Anton dropped low and shot forward, wrapping his arms around Damon’s waist and driving him backward until his back hit the cage.

Demian leaned into the mic. "Oh! Takedown attempt! Anton’s got him against the fence!"

Damon reacted fast. He sprawled his weight down, grabbed the back of Anton’s head, and pulled it down while shifting his hips. Anton dug his feet in and tried to lift Damon’s leg, but Damon turned his body and forced his forearm across Anton’s jaw. Anton let go and stepped back before the pressure could set in.

"What a scramble! Damon reversed that clean," Jon said. "Anton had the position, and Damon just took it away."

Damon didn’t give Anton room to reset. He pushed forward and threw a heavy low kick into Anton’s lead thigh. The sound carried through the arena, and the crowd roared. Anton’s leg buckled slightly, but he stayed up. Damon followed with a straight right that Anton stepped out to avoid, then came back with a left hook to the body that made Anton grunt.

"Look at the aggression!" Demian said. "Damon’s not letting him breathe. He’s pressing forward, throwing everything with bad intentions."

Anton tried to circle along the cage, but Damon cut him off with a front kick to the chest that pushed him back a step. Anton’s shoulders nearly touched the fence. The crowd was on its feet.

"He’s got him in the corner now," Jon said. "This is exactly where Damon wants to be. The question is, can he finish here, or will Anton find a way out?"

But Anton was no amateur. He was a veteran. He had been in this position many times in his career, and he had put plenty of fighters in it himself. He didn’t panic. He worked out a plan.

He raised his lead hand to feint high, forcing Damon to react, then dropped his weight and pivoted hard off the cage. In one sharp motion, he slipped along the fence and spun back to the center of the octagon, creating just enough space to breathe. Damon’s follow-up punch hit air.

"Ahh, clever! Anton uses the cage to escape," Demian said. "He’s been here before. He knows exactly how to find the exit."

Damon didn’t slow down. He saw the pattern, Anton’s feint high, pivot left, exit along the fence. He knew Anton would try it again if pressured. So when Anton started to set his feet and circle along the cage, Damon cut the angle early. He stepped across instead of following, planting himself in Anton’s path and throwing a hard jab that snapped Anton’s head back.

"Ooh! Damon reads it!" Jon said. "He anticipated the escape and cut him off."

Anton’s eyes narrowed. He tried to dig his feet in and push forward with his own pressure, but Damon kept swarming. He threw a body kick that Anton blocked with his shin. Then a left hook that landed on the ear. Then another low kick, low and hard, at the thigh. Anton’s stance tightened, and his hands began to drift a little lower, looking for resistance.

"He’s keeping him on the back foot," Demian said. "Damon isn’t letting him get comfortable. He knows Anton is dangerous when he’s given time to think."

Anton tried to respond with a straight right over the top, but Damon was already moving his head off the line. He answered with a counter left hook that grazed Anton’s chin and forced him to take another step back. The crowd roared.

"Look at this pressure," Jon said. "Anton is being pushed around, and he doesn’t like it one bit....