Damon stood still for a moment, just long enough to make Alex second-guess the next beat.
Then he moved again, low step to the outside, heel barely skimming the canvas, before shifting his upper body like he was preparing for a shot.
Alex dropped his hips and drew his arms tight again.
No shot came.
Damon fired a calf kick instead, sharp and inside. The contact snapped against Tereira's lead leg with a pop, forcing a shuffle step back.
Victor shouted, "That's it, Damon! Keep slicing that base!"
Damon adjusted the angle and advanced again, keeping his pressure calculated.
His arms stayed low, relaxed, but his hands flicked every few seconds, a feint, a touch, a frame.
Each one dragged a twitch out of Alex, and Damon noted every response.
Then came a high kick. Fast and tight, aimed for the temple.
Alex barely got his hand up in time. The block absorbed most of it, but it wasn't clean. He staggered a step left, trying to recover his position.
