In the backroom, Damon finished putting on his fight attire, adjusting the waistband of his shorts as he looked into the mirror.
His eyes traced the name on his pants, Whittier Team, stitched proudly above the UFA logo.
But it wasn't the team name that made him pause, it was that logo. UFA.
He stared at it for a long moment, letting it sink in. He was here. Really, really here.
The realization hit him harder than any punch he'd ever taken.
All the years of grinding, the countless sacrifices, and the pain of those early days, it had all led him to this moment.
It wasn't just any fight, it was everything he had worked for was coming together in that one fight.
Two years ago, he had been on the streets with his mother, scraping by, fighting in backyards just to survive.
That day… that fateful day when he got knocked out.
