Chapter 59 - Chapter 59: Retreat

Yogan stared at the new set of physiological data on the tablet, his expression unchanging but his mind racing. Dr. Phil's voice, steady and professional, carried a gravity that seemed to fill the entire room."I must give you the most serious warning," Dr. Phil said, pointing to the charts showing his heart rate, blood pressure, and organ stress indicators. "With your current muscle mass and bone structure, dropping to 145 pounds—sixty-six kilograms—will require losing over 22 kilograms. This is an extreme and dangerous reduction. The stress on your body will exceed anything you've ever faced. Your heart will be forced to pump highly concentrated blood, putting you at risk for arrhythmia. Your kidneys will be overwhelmed filtering metabolic waste, and you face a high probability of acute renal failure and rhabdomyolysis."The atmosphere in the entire room seemed to freeze. Even the ambient noise of the gym outside—the clatter of weights, the faint thuds of punching bags—felt muffled, swallowed by the weight of Dr. Phil's words.Yogan silently scanned the data, knowing his body better than anyone else. He had felt the subtle shifts, the limitations creeping in over months of rigorous training. He understood the truth that no chart could fully capture: his current form no longer belonged in the Featherweight division.He lifted his head and met the anxious gazes of his teammates—DC, Khabib, Javier, and the others. For the first time, without hesitation, he revealed the depth of his ambition. His voice, low but resolute, cut through the tension like a blade."I know this is dangerous," he said, each word deliberate. "But I must fight this battle. I must win."His teammates leaned in instinctively, sensing the magnitude of what he was about to declare. Yogan stood, his tall frame casting a shadow over the monitors and medical devices. His eyes, sharp and unyielding, seemed to set fire to the room."My goal," he continued, voice unwavering, "was never just to win a golden belt. I want more." He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in."I want to be the first three-weight champion in UFC history: Featherweight, Lightweight, and Welterweight. Then the fourth, Middleweight. And eventually, one day, I aim to move up to Light Heavyweight, to challenge legends like Jon 'Bones' Jones, and create a legacy unlike any fighter before me—a five-weight champion!"The room went silent. His teammates, trained to see strength and resilience every day, were stunned by the audacity of his ambition. This was no longer self-confidence—it was godlike arrogance, an iron will burning through mortal limitations.Yogan took a deep breath, the faint sound echoing in the stark, white hospital room. His eyes were sharp as knives as they swept across everyone present."This unification bout with Aldo," he said, each word like steel, "will be my last fight at Featherweight. I will win this official belt. I will end my Featherweight career with excellence. I will never leave this division as Interim Champion."The words struck like thunder. Every teammate understood. What they were witnessing was no longer just a fighter asserting himself—it was a future legend declaring his destiny."Alright," Javier said, breaking the silence first, his voice filled with both awe and determination. "Since you've made this choice, we at AKA Training Gym will stand by you through every challenge. Every step of this journey, every grueling session, we will endure it with you."---The Middle Stage BeginsThe following weeks marked the brutal commencement of Middle Stage training. Yogan's body was under siege. His diet was strictly restricted: carbohydrates, salt, and excess fats eliminated. Hunger gnawed at him incessantly, a worm burrowing through his bones. Each meal was carefully measured; every calorie accounted for, every nutrient weighed against the demands of extreme weight reduction.Even routine training became a battlefield. During a sparring session with Khabib, his opponent attacked relentlessly, chaining chokeholds and takedowns with surgical precision. Yogan, relying on his unyielding willpower and improving technique, managed to defend against near-perfect takedowns and gain the upper hand, pushing back with explosive power to regain his footing.But then, reality struck. As he rose to his feet, a sudden wave of dizziness overwhelmed him. His vision darkened to black, leaving only a high-pitched ringing in his ears. The world seemed to dissolve around him, replaced by a terrifying void. His legs gave out, and he crumpled to the mat under Khabib's astonished gaze.Shock gripped the room.High-intensity training, combined with severe hypoglycemia and acute dehydration, had forced Yogan's body to shut down. For the first time, the unstoppable fighter had been humbled.The gym erupted into chaos."Doctor! Get a doctor now!" DC's roar pierced the clamor, commanding attention."Ambulance! Quick!" Khabib shouted, his voice sharp with urgency.Teammates scrambled to Yogan's side. Dr. Phil was first, opening a tube of high-concentration glucose gel and checking his vitals with practiced precision. The distant wail of an approaching ambulance sliced through the afternoon, bringing a surreal sense of urgency to the usually controlled environment of San Jose's AKA Training Gym.---AwakeningWhen Yogan finally awoke, he found himself in a stark hospital room. The disinfectant stung his nostrils, forcing him to acknowledge the sharp contrast between the sterile environment and the chaos he had left behind. He blinked, taking in the faces around him: Javier, DC, Khabib, and the core team, their expressions a mixture of relief and concern.Javier exhaled slowly, watching him regain consciousness. Without hesitation, his tone became solemn and commanding:"Yogan, withdraw from the fight. Your body has given us the clearest warning yet. This belt is not worth risking your career—or your life. We all support you, but you must listen to us."The words hung heavy in the air, as though a final judgment had been delivered. DC and Khabib remained silent, their admiration for Yogan's will tempered by the harsh reality of his collapse. Even they, the warriors who had faced him day in and day out, could not argue against the truth.Yogan lay in the bed, staring at the vivid blue sky outside the window. The IV fluid dripped steadily into his veins, restoring a fragment of his vitality, but he felt the gravity of the warning coursing through every fiber of his body.He did not respond immediately. He allowed the dizziness to fade, the sharp reminder of his body's limits passing. Slowly, deliberately, he turned his head to sweep over the anxious faces of his team. His voice, soft yet iron-hard, cut through the tension."No."One simple word, but it carried the weight of a thousand battles, a thousand ambitions."Coach… DC… Khabib… I understand your concern," he said, propping himself up slightly on his elbows. "But you know what it means if I withdraw now."The room leaned in instinctively, sensing the gravity. Yogan's breathing, steady despite the IV, conveyed clarity and focus."If I pull out now," he continued, his voice resolute, "I will never have the chance to return to Featherweight. My body will no longer allow me to cut weight like this again. My Featherweight career will forever remain that of an Interim Champion. An 'interim' title is a disgrace—to me, to you, and to everyone who supports me."His gaze met Javier's, holding steady, unflinching, commanding."This is my last fight in this division. My only chance to end my Featherweight career on my own terms. Please… let me finish."The room fell into a tense silence. The rhythmic beep-beep of the heart monitor was the only sound marking the passage of time. No one moved, no one spoke. Even the trained warriors of AKA Training Gym, accustomed to pain and challenge, felt the gravity of Yogan's words.In that moment, Yogan was no longer just a fighter. He was a man standing at the edge of his limits, demanding to carve his destiny with every ounce of strength he had left.The stage was set. The unification bout with Aldo would be more than a fight—it would be the final chapter of Yogan's Featherweight story, a test of will, body, and soul.And nothing—not fear, not the warnings of science, not even the collapse of his own body—would prevent him from seizing the moment.---