Damon watched as Demaien managed to slip away, scrambling back to his feet. It wasn't clean, but it was enough.
Niklas immediately reset, bouncing lightly on his feet, his eyes locked on Demaien with sharp focus. There was no hesitation in him.
Damon exhaled, his mind already working through what he had just seen.
Demaien was a good wrestler, but this wasn't easy. Niklas wasn't just defending, he was dictating the exchanges.
And that meant one thing, he knew what he was doing.
Damon could see it clearly now. Niklas wasn't just decent in grappling; he was fundamentally sound.
More importantly, he was composed.
That was the difference.
Demaien, for all his wrestling credentials, wasn't fighting with confidence.
He wasn't dictating anything.
Most of this fight had played out on the feet, and Demaien had done nothing with it.
Niklas had landed the better shots. He had controlled the space.
