Damon lay flat on the mat, pinned under Chemasov's relentless weight, his mind racing through every technique and counter he knew.
Each time he tried something, Chemasov anticipated it, neutralizing his every move.
The simulated fighter's control was absolute, every grip ironclad, every transition seamless.
The feeling of hopelessness that Damon had was wearing him down.
But he wasn't ready to give up.
Damon refocused and took a deep breath to try to slow down his rushing thoughts.
He recalled something Kru Somchai had drilled into him repeatedly 'Don't fight the opponent's game. Make him play yours'
Forcing himself to relax, Damon waited, allowing Chemasov to apply pressure, feigning exhaustion.
He noticed the slightest opening in Chemasov's stance, just a small, almost imperceptible gap as he shifted his weight to readjust.
It was barely there, but it was enough.
