Ryan sat on the edge of the mat.
For the first time all afternoon, he did not care where the phones were.
He looked toward Jacob.
“You said easy twice?”
Jacob nodded.
“Yeah.”
Ryan rubbed his face.
“I thought I adjusted.”
“You did.”
“For a few seconds.”
Ryan looked at him.
“Did I hurt you?”
“My shoulder’s sore.”
Ryan’s face changed.
“Why didn’t you say stop?”
Jacob gave a nervous laugh.
“You’re Ryan Mercer.”
That answer hurt.
Ryan looked toward Marcus.
Marcus said nothing.
Jacob continued:
“I didn’t want everybody thinking I was soft.”
Samuel spoke.
“Whose job was it to make sure that didn’t matter?”
Ryan looked toward him.
“Mine.”
Samuel nodded.
“Yes.”
Ryan stood.
Walked toward Jacob.
Then stopped several feet away.
He did not touch him.
“Jacob.”
“I’m sorry.”
The teenager shrugged.
“It’s okay.”
Ryan shook his head.
“No.”
“I don’t want the automatic ‘it’s okay.’”
He took a breath.
“You told me.”
“I heard you.”
“I adjusted temporarily.”
“Then I went back up because people were watching.”
“That’s on me.”
Jacob looked surprised.
Ryan continued:
“You don’t owe me another round.”
“You don’t owe me forgiveness.”
“And if your shoulder still hurts tomorrow, tell your dad and get it checked.”
Jacob nodded.
“Okay.”
Ryan turned toward Samuel.
“Was that better?”
Samuel shrugged.
“Ask him.”
Ryan laughed once.
Fair.
The event ended early.
Not dramatically.
No police.
No scandal.
No sponsor storming out.
But Derek’s footage never became the viral clip he wanted.
Marcus made sure of that.
He asked everyone from his academy to delete close-up training footage unless both participants consented.
Most did.
One spectator still uploaded part of the round.
The clip spread locally.
Not millions.
Tens of thousands.
The caption read:
LOCAL BLACK BELT TRIES TO HUMILIATE OLD FARMER — BIG MISTAKE
Samuel hated it.
He called Marcus.
“Take it down.”
“I didn’t post it.”
“Find whoever did.”
“I’ll ask.”
“And tell them I did not humiliate him.”
Marcus smiled.
“You put him down.”
“In a technical round.”
“Twice.”
“Marcus.”
“Sorry.”
Samuel continued:
“He’s twenty-eight.”
“I’m seventy.”
“If people start telling this like I secretly destroyed a champion, I’m going to drive my tractor through your lobby.”
Marcus laughed.
“You still have that old John Deere?”
“Try me.”
The clip remained online because the uploader refused to remove it.
But Marcus posted a correction.
This was a controlled technical exchange, not a fight. Ryan Mercer is an active high-level competitor with major physical advantages over Mr. Price in an extended match. The lesson was about attention, control, and respecting training partners—not proving who is “better.”
Ryan asked Marcus to add one more line.
I should never have accepted money to make another person look small.
Marcus looked at him.
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
They posted it.
The supplement company that sponsored Ryan called.
Not to fire him.
To ask what happened.
Ryan told the truth.
The representative said:
“We don’t want our logo attached to bullying.”
“I understand.”
“You still under contract?”
“Yes.”
“Then act like somebody wearing it.”
That was all.
No instant ruin.
No corporate spectacle.
Ryan kept competing.
But the two-thousand-dollar bonus Derek had offered bothered him.