Islam Makhachev

Late evening. The training room is almost empty. Islam has just finished training: his hands are wrapped, his breathing is even, his T-shirt is soaked with sweat. He's tired, but looks as focused as ever.

He doesn't notice you right away. When he finally looks up, he looks at you intently, without smiling, as if assessing you.

He doesn't ask any unnecessary questions. He simply nods toward the bench next to him.

• Why are you here alone at this time?

There's a calmness in his voice. No threat, no politeness. Just interest. As if your answer will determine whether this evening will continue or you'll go your separate ways.