Another minute passed.

Theo started to feel the rhythm.

He had blocked Petrov's early jabs, stuffed a fake level change, and stayed calm under pressure.

That quiet doubt from the walk-in had faded. His feet moved faster now. His guard was looser, not lazy, just natural.

He stepped in with a hard jab. It landed.

He followed with a low kick, chopping at Petrov's lead leg. Clean.

Petrov stayed composed, but Theo saw him shift his stance for a second. That was a small win.

Damon, watching from the corner, didn't yell. He watched closely, arms crossed, letting Theo find the pace.

Theo stepped in again, doubling the jab, then throwing a short right hand to the body. It grazed, but it was enough to push Petrov back.

Confidence grew.

He began stepping first, not waiting. He threw a front kick that Petrov blocked, then faked another low kick before shooting a quick jab upstairs. Petrov guarded tight.

Theo wasn't reckless. He was sharp. But he was also the one applying pressure now.

He slipped a jab and countered with a right hook that clipped Petrov's ear. Not hard enough to stun, but it turned his head slightly.

That's when Petrov blinked. Not literally. His expression stayed blank, but his body gave something small, an extra lean back, a little drag in the feet as he reset. Theo saw it.

And he believed it.

He pressed in, throwing a fast one-two and circling right to cut off the cage. He added another body jab. Petrov backed up, touched the fence.

Theo smelled the opening. He fired a jab, then a right hook off an angle.

That was the mistake.

As he stepped in for the hook, Petrov planted and ducked.

In one fast shift, he grabbed Theo's waist with a deep body lock and turned it into a trip.

Theo's balance broke.

He landed hard on his side, and by the time he adjusted, Petrov was already knee-on-belly, pressing down, hand fighting for a crossface.

Theo tried to frame off the hips, but Petrov slid into half guard and smothered him.

The crowd didn't roar, it was mostly staff, but Damon's face tightened. He knew what just happened.

Petrov had baited him.

He played along, gave Theo enough space to build rhythm, then waited for the right overcommitment.

And now he was in control.

Theo stayed calm underneath, hands busy, trying to frame and hip escape. But Petrov's grip was heavy.

He didn't force big shots. He stayed tight, patient, working elbows into the body and head. He postured, dropped one hard shot, then settled again.

The control wasn't flashy, but it was clear. The round was slipping away.

Damon looked across the cage at Ivan. The man didn't smile, didn't nod. He just watched like a man who had seen this outcome many times before.

Inside the cage, Theo held on. He had started strong. But one wrong step had changed the round completely.

Damon smiled from the corner.

He expected this.

Petrov was a dangerous wrestler, well-schooled and clinical. With Ivan coaching him, no one should be surprised he ended up on top.

The man fought like a machine, methodical, suffocating, hard to shake off once he got control.

But Theo wasn't just coached by anyone.

He was trained by Damon Cross, the best fighter in the world.

A man who had built his legacy on balance, versatility, and excellence in every area. Damon's roots were in Muay Thai and Brazilian jiu-jitsu. Standing or grounded, he had mastered both.

On the ground especially, he knew every inch of control, every pressure point, every way to break rhythm and force movement.

And Theo had been learning.

From the bottom, Theo stayed active. He wasn't panicking.

Petrov was heavy, sure, but Theo didn't give him time to settle. His legs stayed moving, shifting for angles. His left knee slid up to frame against the chest.

He tried to push for a butterfly hook, but Petrov flared his hips and flattened him again.

Damon called out once. "Frame! Elbow pressure!"

Theo responded. He got an underhook on the left side and used his right elbow to post against the hip. It wasn't pretty, but it gave him space.

Petrov adjusted, trying to pass. Theo caught the motion and threw his legs up fast, angling for a high guard. It wasn't locked, but it made Petrov pause.

Theo tried for a triangle, loose but annoying. Petrov postured just enough to avoid it, but that gave Theo a shot, he shifted to mission control, pulled the head down, and began tightening the angle.

Petrov didn't let it sit. He stood up fast, yanked back, and broke the grip.

But now he had to work harder.

Theo stayed on him. He shrimped out, reset his guard, and began using his feet to push Petrov's hips.

He wasn't attacking non-stop, but every movement was meant to off-balance.

Petrov tried to settle again, Theo locked up a guillotine in transition. It wasn't deep, but it forced him to adjust.

Now Petrov wasn't sitting comfortably.

He was defending.

Theo used that chance to push his back to the cage. He started wall walking, right foot down, hand posting, hips sliding toward the fence.

Petrov followed but had to switch grips. In the scramble, Theo turned his shoulder and slipped one knee under.

He got halfway up before Petrov locked a body clinch again.

But Damon clapped once from the corner. "That's it, keep making him move!"

Theo was doing just that.

He hadn't reversed yet. But he was forcing Petrov to spend more energy. The Russian had gone from controlling to reacting. And that was a start.

Damon had spent a lot of his downtime as a coach watching MeTube.

Most of what filled his feed was MMA content, highlights, breakdowns, fight philosophies. A line he heard in one of the videos stuck with him.

"If you know you're going to get taken down, make sure it's on your terms. Take them down before they take you down."

It was a confident statement. Tactical. Made for a fighter who didn't want to be forced into a bad spot. But in Damon's mind, it wasn't always smart advice.

It sounded good in a podcast or a video clip, but if your opponent's strength was grappling, and yours wasn't, willingly taking them into their world was reckless.

Damon didn't train his guys to fight with ego.

That's why he never told Theo to shoot on Arman. It wouldn't make sense. Arman was a strong, disciplined wrestler.

Theo was a striker first, still learning to navigate the ground. Taking the fight to Arman's zone by choice would be the kind of move that got a fighter dominated.

But Damon didn't ignore the ground either.

He made sure his fighters knew how to survive there. Defending wasn't enough.

In real fights, staying still meant getting controlled. That's why Damon drilled his team on creating offense even off their backs.

Hooks, frames, underhooks, elbows, submissions, they had to force the opponent to adjust, to shift, to move.

And when a grappler was moving, they weren't controlling.

Theo was doing exactly that.

Every time Arman settled, Theo shifted. He used his feet, fought for wrists, shot for quick submissions even if they didn't land clean.

It wasn't about finishing, it was about forcing Arman to move. And every movement created an opening.

Even small ones.

Theo wasn't trying to win the ground battle.

He was trying to make Arman work harder than he wanted to.

That pressure, subtle and steady, was something Damon had drilled since the start of camp. Don't just survive, make them uncomfortable. Make them burn gas. Make them adjust.

That was how you earned your escape.

That was how you broke their rhythm.

And slowly, Theo was starting to do both.