bookpower Chapter 406 Camp
Chapter 406 Camp
It didn't take long for the team to dive into training.
As soon as the games were announced, the excitement increased.
The camp was serious business, every part of their planning was carefully organized.
For a country with no deep MMA history or roots, Ireland had gone all-in.
They had brought in specialists, world-class coaches, and an elite support team to maximize their fighters' potential.
To be honest, it was even better than the gym back home.
Damon had the utmost respect for Victor and everything he had built, but here?
The level of preparation was something else entirely.
Each class had a clear goal and was well-organized.
Strength and fitness were taken to the extreme.
Drills were customized to match their personal styles.
All weaknesses were found and fixed.
During these sessions, Damon learned more about his teammate, Demaien Ncguygan.
He was a great grappler and was skilled in both wrestling and judo.
He was very skilled at taking opponents down and keeping control of them, and his hard work was clear.
But his striking? Dog shit.
Damon didn't think it as an insult, it was just the truth.
Demaien came from a pure wrestling background, and it showed.
His punches lacked snap, his footwork was clunky, and his head movement was almost nonexistent.
It wasn't his fault.
He had never needed high-level striking before.
But against a fighter like Natuezs Garmrond, who could wrestle and strike? That was a problem.
Damon made a mental note to help Demaien where he could.
They weren't just individuals here.
They needed to win as a team, and if one of them fell short, it put the whole country's qualification at risk.
So as the days of training continued, Damon sharpened his own weapons while keeping a close eye on his teammates.
The battle ahead wasn't just his own. It belonged to all of them.
Throughout training, Damon impressed nearly everyone on the coaching staff.
Most fighters had limits, visible walls they hit during grueling sessions.
But with Damon, it was different.
It wasn't a massive change, but it made a difference.
The punches weren't just landing; they were cutting through.
"Small adjustment," Damon said, shaking out his arms. "But it changes everything. Instead of punching at the target, you punch through it. Your body stays committed, and your opponent feels the full shot."
Demaien frowned slightly, trying to process it.
"Think about it like this," Damon continued. "If you throw at my chin, I see it coming, and I brace for impact. But if you throw through my chin, I don't get that moment to absorb it. That's why some punches look like they shouldn't knock people out, but they do."
Demaien exhaled, nodding.
He squared up and threw a jab with the adjustment Damon showed him.
"Better," Damon said. "But don't just extend your arm, your whole body has to follow through. Step into it just a bit more."
Demaien threw another.
Damon nodded. "That's it. Keep drilling that in. You're strong, but the way you punch now, guys can brace for it. You clean this up, and it's gonna be harder for them to react."
Demaien exhaled sharply, nodding with determination. "Got it."
Damon gave a small smirk. "Good. You'll need it."
Damon laid back on the mat, exhaling as he took a sip from his water bottle.
The intensity of training had been relentless, but he wasn't worn down, just letting his body reset.
As he stared at the ceiling, he heard footsteps approaching.
Collin dropped down beside him with a smirk, wiping sweat from his face. "Well, feck me. Ye finally looks tired," he said, his voice carrying that unmistakable Irish lilt. "Thought ye were some machine or somethin'."
Damon let out a small chuckle, still staring up. "Nah, just human. Barely."
Collin snorted, stretching his arms out. "Could've fooled me. Watchin' ye train, I was startin' to think ye don't breathe like the rest of us."
Damon smirked but didn't respond immediately.
Damon couldn't help but reflect on how far he'd come.
Years ago, he had watched Collin NcGyver on TV, studying his fights, admiring his rise. Back then, Collin was the Irish MMA star, the first double champ, the face of the sport in their country.
Now, here they were. Training together. Chatting casually.
Sitting side by side after an exhausting session like it was just another day.
It felt surreal.
And then, a thought crept into his mind.
Is there a kid out there right now, watching me the way I used to watch them?
The idea lingered. Somewhere, was there a young fighter, sitting in front of a screen, analyzing his movements, dreaming of the day they'd make it to where he was?
He never thought of himself that way before.
Not as someone people looked up to.
But maybe... that's exactly who he had become.