NOVPUBAs the fight ended and the post-fight interview echoed through every stream, broadcast, and replay page online, the world responded exactly how it always had when Damon Cross fought.
It flooded.
Social media platforms couldn't catch their breath. Streams of hashtags climbed to the top of global trends.
Damon's name was everywhere, from clips of the finish to rewatches of the takedown defense to the exact moment he screamed into the mic.
"Are you not entertained?!"
Yes. They were.
And they showed it.
#RoninRulesAgain #StillUndisputed #UFAxTournamentKing #DamonCrossEra #MonsterInTheCage
One platform alone registered over five million posts within the first hour.
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@FightsAndFaith: "That was a damn performance. Damon Cross is HIM."
@MMAFlashReport: "Joren didn't even fight bad. Damon is just that GOOD. #CrossEra"
@IrishSteelNation: "That was for Ireland! OUR CHAMP. OUR RONIN."
@FightNerd1998: "Damon Cross might be the greatest middleweight I've ever seen."
@HardcoreCombatFan: "He beat Balim, Desayen, Joren, and still hasn't bled. What's in this guy?"
@DeathByClinch: "I study footwork. That man made the canvas his. Joren had no air. That's footwork art."
@UFAInsider: "Damon Cross now has more finishes than some champs have fights. And he's STILL only 23."
@TokovFan69: "Okay, I give in. Damon is different. I need a docuseries or something."
@MartialBrain247: "Joren just got introduced to a new tier of fighting."
@UndergroundMMA: "Next time y'all doubt Damon, just remember, this is my GOAT."
@RuthlessRoninEdits: [Clip of Damon rolling off the cage mid-fight with caption:] "How do you stop this??"
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And that was only the beginning.
Replays trended in the millions. Old opponents were tagged in highlight compilations.
Even celebrities, athletes, and analysts outside of MMA started posting reactions.
The night continued, and the post-fight press conference followed shortly after.
Unlike the typical UFA setup where multiple fighters gathered at a long table, each speaking when called, this one was quieter.
With only two names on the card, Damon and Joren, there wasn't much room for chaos.
Damon walked in first, still wearing his fight gear with a clean hoodie thrown over his shoulders.
The belt sat on the table in front of him, gleaming under the lights.
His team sat behind the cameras, watching silently as reporters lifted their hands one by one.
Joren would come in after, but for now, the spotlight was on the champion.
Despite the massive win and electric crowd hours earlier, Damon looked calm, even relaxed, like someone who had done what they said they would.
This wasn't new to him.
The conference rolled on, filled with the usual cycle of questions—about strategy, preparation, mindset, and his future plans.
Damon answered them with his usual mix of confidence and brevity. He wasn't rude, just efficient. He'd said most of it in the cage already.
But then, as expected, someone brought up the name again.
A reporter toward the back asked, "Damon, I don't know if you've seen it, but Shane Brickland made another post after your fight—"
Damon blinked once and looked away, reaching for the water bottle in front of him.
He didn't even let the sentence finish.
He uncapped the bottle, took a sip, and didn't respond.
Another reporter tried to steer things back on track, and Damon allowed the silence to do its job.
He had kept his word and he had moved on.
And Shane Brickland, as far as he was concerned, no longer existed in the same conversation.
The name had been popping up way too often. Every few weeks, a new post. A new jab. A new claim. Even after being beaten and after Damon had moved on.
Fans had begun to make memes out of it, and some jokingly demanded a rematch, calling it "Brickland's Final Beating" or "Closure Fight." Others said it was like a side quest Damon never bothered to complete.
Damon had been tempted once. Just once. But now It felt like a waste of energy.
Not beneath him, but beneath the moment. He wasn't against it, not entirely. But he wasn't chasing it either. Not now. Maybe not ever.
So, with that, the conference wrapped.
Later on, the organizers asked Damon to meet with fans, photos, autographs, and a few words.
He agreed without hesitation.
This part? He loved. These people made it matter. Many had flown from Ireland, some from all over Asia.
There were families, kids, and teenagers shaking as they held up their phones.
Damon shook hands, took pictures, signed shirts and gloves, and posters.
Even after all the belts, all the fights, he never forgot who paid to see him walk into the cage.
This was always time well spent.
Damon stood in the quiet hallway of the hotel, dressed sharp in a black button-down, sleeves rolled to the elbows, slacks clean and pressed.
Beside him, Joey adjusted his collar, checking himself in the reflection on the polished elevator door across from them.
They stood outside a room, and Damon knocked twice.
Inside, footsteps approached.
The door creaked open, revealing Victor with sleep-heavy eyes and a half-scowl on his face.
He was shirtless, wearing loose gym shorts, and clearly hadn't expected company.
His gaze shifted between the two sharply dressed men standing outside his door.
"Going out?" Victor asked, his voice gravelly from sleep. "I hope you don't cause as much trouble as you did last time."
Damon chuckled, already amused. "Don't worry. The crazy ones aren't here this time. Only Joey. I think we can manage that."
Joey turned and shot Damon a flat look. "Wow. That's how we're starting the night?"
Victor raised an eyebrow. "We? Who are you going with?"
Damon and Joey didn't answer right away. They just exchanged a look and slowly turned their heads toward Victor with the same smug smirk.
Victor squinted at them, his hand still on the door handle. His voice came out flat. "No."
Damon grinned, tilting his head. "Come on, old man. It's just one night. Nothing crazy."
"I said no last time too," Victor muttered, stepping back into the room, "and I ended up driving a group bleeding kids... and didn't you get banned too?."
Joey raised both hands. "Hey, that was not us. That was Ash. May he be forever banned."
Victor rubbed his face and exhaled. "So why do I have to come?"
"Because," Damon said, stepping in, "you've been tense all week. You need this. Come hang out. Have a few drinks. Laugh a little."
Joey nodded. "And if anything goes sideways, we got you. Swear."
Victor looked between the two, both dressed in sharp black shirts and fitted pants, clearly not taking no for an answer. He sighed again and turned around.
"Give me ten minutes."
Damon looked at Joey. Joey smirked.
