CHAPTER 779: CHAPTER 779: THE CHALLENGE BEGINS

A few days had passed since the semifinals wrapped, and the air near the lake carried a different kind of energy.

Fighters from both teams gathered along the grassy bank, some leaning on the wooden fence that ran along the shore, others sitting on rocks or folding chairs set up by the production crew.

Conversations buzzed in low tones until Ronan walked in, clapping his hands loud enough to cut through the noise.

"Alright, everyone, eyes up!" he called, wearing a grin that was already making a few guys suspicious. "We’ve had our share of wars in there, but today is not about fists, elbows, or chokes. Today... is about pride, bragging rights, and embarrassing the other coach on national television."

That got a laugh from both teams, even Damon and Ivan cracking faint smirks.

"That’s right," Ronan continued, pacing in front of them like he was about to drop life-changing news. "It’s time for the one event of the season where the fighters sit back, relax, and watch their fearless leaders suffer—" he paused, holding up a finger "—the Coaches Challenge."

The lakeside erupted in whistles and cheers. Some fighters stomped on the wooden dock, others shouted out Damon’s or Ivan’s name just to hype things up.

Ronan raised his voice over the noise. "Now, I can’t tell you yet exactly what it’s going to be, but I can tell you it’s going to test your balance, endurance, and the ability to keep your cool under pressure. Oh, and before you ask, yes, there’s money on the line. A lot of it."

The crowd of fighters got even louder. Damon leaned back against the fence with a knowing look, while Ivan stood still, arms folded, eyes narrowed like he was already strategizing.

Ronan clapped his hands again. "Both of you, Damon and Ivan, meet me at the starting point in fifteen minutes. Everyone else, grab a good spot to watch. You’re about to see your coaches sweat."

Ronan led Damon and Ivan away from the crowd, walking them down the narrow path along the lake until they reached the starting area.

A small tent had been set up for shade, with coolers of water and two small tables for them to set their things down. The cameras followed closely, catching every expression.

"Alright, gentlemen," Ronan began, glancing between them with that same teasing grin. "Before I tell you exactly how bad this is going to get, let’s talk motivation. The winning coach today? Ten thousand dollars, cash, straight to you. And—" he pointed back toward the group of fighters on the shore "—an extra fifteen hundred for every member of your team."

Both coaches gave a small nod, but Damon’s smirk got a little wider. Ivan’s lips pressed into a thin line, eyes locked on Ronan like he was already mapping the route in his head.

"That’s right," Ronan added, "which means, win this, and you’re buying your guys steak dinners. Lose... and you get to listen to them complain for the rest of the season about how you couldn’t make it across a lake."

When they walked back toward the fighters, the whole group gathered in closer. Ronan held his hands out like he was presenting something grand.

"Alright, listen up! Here’s how today’s Coaches Challenge is going down. We call it... the Lake Pull."

He pointed toward the setup across the water. Floating platforms bobbed in a staggered line, connected loosely by ropes.

Past that was a long rope stretched over the lake, ending at a narrow balance beam suspended a few feet above the water.

Beyond that, a shallow stretch led to a small wooden dock, where two weighted sleds sat with rolled-up flags attached.

"Step one, Platform Dash," Ronan explained. "You’re going to hop from one floating platform to the next until you reach the halfway point. Sounds easy? Well—" he looked at the fighters with a grin "—your lovely teams will be rocking those platforms as much as they can without actually knocking them over. So good luck keeping your feet."

The fighters immediately started laughing and exchanging ideas about how to mess with the other coach.

"Step two is the Rope Tug," Ronan continued, pointing to the long rope line. "You’ve got to pull yourself across while hanging over the water. Of course, the other team will be shaking the rope from their end. Fall in? You’ve got to climb back on and keep going."

Ivan grunted under his breath. Damon just chuckled, shaking his head.

"Step three, the Balance Beam Battle," Ronan said, pointing at the narrow beam. "You’ll both meet in the middle. First one to knock the other off gets a five-second time bonus before they start the final stage."

A ripple of excitement ran through the fighters at that one. They all knew this would turn into a full-on shoving match.

"And finally, step four, the Final Sprint. Waist-deep water, weighted sled, your team’s flag. Drag it all the way to the finish post and plant that flag. First to do it wins."

He spread his hands. "Simple enough, right?"

The fighters roared in approval, already shouting encouragement, or trash talk, at their respective coaches.

Damon cracked his neck and looked at the course like it was a puzzle to be solved. Ivan adjusted his gloves and gave the water a sharp, calculating glance.

Ronan clapped once. "Alright, you’ve got five minutes to warm up and get ready. And remember, don’t make me fish either of you out of there."

Damon was ready for this.

The money didn’t matter to him. It was a nice bonus, sure, but he wasn’t here to pad his pockets.

Across from him, Ivan looked equally locked in, his expression calm but sharp, the kind that told you he was already visualizing every step.

Ronan blew the whistle for them to get into position. Damon stepped onto the first platform, knees slightly bent to adjust to the wobble.

The water lapped at the sides, the smell of lake algae faint in the air. On the opposite side, Ivan mirrored his stance, hands ready to grab the rope to the next platform.

From the shore, fighters from both teams were already yelling at the top of their lungs.

Damon’s team barked out encouragement, telling him to move fast before Ivan could get an edge.

Ivan’s side yelled for their coach to rock the platforms once he got ahead. The whole place had that chaotic, hyped energy that only came from competition mixed with bragging rights.

The whistle was coming next, and Damon shifted his weight forward. Money or not, he was about to give these guys a show.